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THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES

OS

ROBINSON CRUSOR
“The author of that book which has imparted to most
of us the greatest delight of any, was also the earliest
teacher of political economy, the first propounder of free
trade. He planted that tree which, stationary and stunted
for nearly two centuries, is now spreading its shadow by
degrees over all the earth. He was the most far-sighted
of our statesmen, and the most worthily trusted by the
wisest of our kingz.”

WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“BE PLEASED TO TAKE A SKETCH OF MY FIGURE.”

Pge 203.
ipl Fee ra Lose oe =

Strange Surprizing Adventures

OF

OB iN SS Ot Crusoe

| Of York, Mariner.

 

CRUSOE IN HIS SMALL BOAT,
Page 196

Thomas Melson and-Sons,

LONDON. EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK.
JE SLID ib 115 19

AND

STRANGE SURPRIZING ADVENTURES

OF

ROBINSON CRUSOe

OF YORK, MARINER.
WRITTEN BY AIMSELF-
Carefully Reprinted from the Original Edition.

WITH AN INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR OF DANIEL DE FOE,
A MEMOIR OF ALEXANDER SELKIRK, AN ACCOUNT OF PETER SERRANO,
AND OTHER INTERESTING ADDITIONS.

ILLUSTRATED WITH UPWARDS OF SEVENTY ENGRAVINGS BY KEELEY HALSWELLE,
A PORTRAIT OF DE FOE, A MAP OF ROBINSON CRUSOE’S ISLAND, DE FOE’S
TOMB, FACSIMILES OF ORIGINAL TITLE-PAGES, ETC., ETC,

LONDON: THOMAS NELSON AND SONS
EDINBURGH AND NEW YORK.
Wreface.

   

O formal introduction is necessary to a book which
\é for nearly two centuries has been the favourite
of young and old, and which is now ranked, by
common consent, among the classic master.
pieces of English literature.

All then that remains for the Editor to do, is to justify
the appearance of this new edition by pointing out in
what respects it differs from its predecessors.

Ist,—It has been carefully printed from the first
edition; though it has not been thought advisable to adopt
the pedantic fashion of reproducing the original ortho-
graphy. We might as well use the old spelling in our
“ Authorized Version of the Bible ;” and we are unable to
see how it can interest any but a very limited class of
students. For the same reason, we have by no means
literally followed the original punctuation, which, perhaps,
was not De Foe’s, but his printers’. In all other respects

the present edition is a faithful transcript of the ‘‘ Robinson
vi PREFACE,

Crusoe” which delighted English boys when first pub
lished.

2nd,—A Memoir of De Foe, carefully based on the
most trustworthy authorities, has been prefixed.

3rd,—In the Appendix will be found a Memoir of
Aleaander Selkirk, who, whether rightly or wrongly, is
inseparably connected with De Foe’s fiction; a Narrative
of his Residence on the Island of Juan Fernandez ;
Cowper's Poem, suggested by Selkirk’s narrative; and a
Brief Account of the Famous Spanish Crusoe, Peter
Serrano.

4th,—The Illustrations have been expressly designed
for this edition by Mr. Keeley Halswelle, with the excep-
tion, of course, of the Fucsimiles occasionally introduced
of the Title-pages and Engravings in the original work.
The Head-pieces are by Clark Stanton, A.R.A. In a
word, no pains have been spared to render the present
edition complete in every detail; and worthy, it is hoped,

of a place in the library of all good English boys.

W. if. D. A.
Gi ontents.

 

 

1. ORIGINAL TITLE-PAGES

2, DANIEL DE FOE: A BIOGRAPHY—
CuaAprer I.—His EARLY YEARS
a II.—A Lire or STRUGGLE
co III.—De For as A WRITER oF FIcTION

eI IV.—Last YEARS AND DEATH

3. ROBINSON CRUSOE—
PART THE FIRST

Part THE SECOND

4. APPENDIX—

I.—ALEXANDER SELKIRK: A MEMOIR

II.—NARRATIVE OF SELKIRKE’S RESIDENCE ON THE ISLAND OF JUAN

FERNANDEZ

IIJ.—VErsEs SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY ALEXANDER SELKIRK

IV.—A Spanisa Ropinson CRUSOE

5. ANALYTICAL INDEX

49
361

629

640
644
645

649
Original Titles of “Robinson Crusoe. ’

“Tue Life and Strange Surprizing Adventures of Robinson Crusve, of
York, Mariner; Who lived eight and twenty Years all alone, on an unin-
habited Island on the Coast of America, near the Mouth of the Great River
of Uroonoque; Having been Cast on Shore by Shipwreck, wherein all the
Men perished but Himself. With an Account how he was at last Strangely
delivered by Pyrates. Written by Himself. London. Printed for W.
Taylor, at the Ship, in Paternoster Row.” (1st Edition, 25 April, 1719.}

“The Further Adventures of Robinson Crusoe. Being the Second and
Last Part of his Life, and of the Strange Surprizing Accounts of his Travels
round Three Parts of the Globe. Written by Himself. To which is added
a Map of the World, in which is Delineated the Voyages of Robinson Crusoe.
London. Printed for W. Taylor, at the Ship, in Paternoster Row.” (lst
Edition, 20 August, 1719.)

“Serious Reflections during the Life and Surprizing Adventures of
Robinson Crusoe. With his Vision of the Angelick World. Written by
Himself. London. Printed for W. Taylor, at the Ship, in Paternoster
Row.” (ist Edition, 6 August, 1720.)
DANIEL DE FOE:
A Biographn.

CHAPTER 1.

HIS EARLY YEARS.

   

There is a man alive, he says, and well known
too, the aenore of whose life are the first subject of these volumes,
and to whom all or most part of the story most directly alludes ;
this, he adds, may be depended upon for truth. In a word,
there’s not a circumstance in the imaginary story but has its just allusion to
a real story, and chimes part for part, and step for step, with the inimitable
“ Life of Robinson Crusoe.”

Notwithstanding this assertion, I am inclined to think that much of the
pretended allegory was an after-thought of De Foe’s, and that between his
active career and that of the solitary in the wave-washed island there exists
no more resemblance than between Macedon and Monmouth in Fluellen’s
famous comparison. We may see, perhaps, some degree of likeness in the
loneliness of De Foe in the-world which he buffeted so stoutly, and the caged
condition of the castaway may remind us of his creator’s imprisonment ; but
we refuse to carry the allegory any further, or to identify every incident in
the romance with every event in the real life. For the rest, De Foe was a
greater, a braver, and a more self-controlled man than “ Robinson Crusoe,”
as the following brief biographical sketch will, I hope, abundantly prove.

Daniel Defoe, or De Foe, was born in the parish of St. Giles, Cripplegate
in 1660; the son of James Foe, citizen and butcher, of London; and the
10 HIS EARLY YEARS AND EDUCATION.

grandson of Daniel Foe, a gentleman of good estate in Northamptonshire,
who kept a pack of hounds. Nothing more than this can be said of Daniel
De Foe’s grandfather ; of his father some particulars are recorded. ‘ That
he was an excellent father,” says Mr. Lee,* ‘“‘may be concluded from the
affectionate reverence with which his son alludes to him; that he was pros-
perous is evident from his ability to give that son the best education then
open to Dissenters. No doubt can be entertained that he was a good man.
and a sincere Christian. He had, in all probability, been a constant attend-
ant at his parish church during the ministry of the pious and reverend
Samuel Annesley, LL.D.; and when that divine was ejected, under the Act
of Uniformity, James Foe accompanied his beloved pastor, and became a
Nonconformist. He died about 1706-7, full of years, and the last act re-
corded of him (though not by his son) is his giving a testimonial to the
character of a female domestic who had formerly lived two years in his ser-
vice. He says he should not have recommended her to Mr. Cave, ‘ that godly
minister, had not her conversation been becoming the gospel.’”

Under such auspices passed the earliest years of the life of De Foe, and
his mind seems to have been carefully imbued with religious sentiments. He
was a bold, generous, vivacious boy, who, as he himself tells us, neve
struck an enemy when he was down. His perseverance was of no ordinary
description, and when the poor Nonconformists had reason to fear that the
Government would deprive them of their printed copies of the Bible, he set
to work on the difficult task of transcribing the Old Testament, and never
abandoned it until he had completed the whole of the Pentateuch.

At the age of fourteen this bright, enthusiastic hoy—whom his parents
designated for the ministry—was sent to the celebrated Dissenting Academy
at Newington Green, kept by a ripe scholar and able man, the Rev. Charles
Morton. Here he made rapid progress in the various departments of learn-
ing; and here, too, as his mind developed and his intellect matured, his
moral sense of responsibility grew stronger, so that he was induced to ask
himself whether he was suited for a clerical career, and whether it was suited
for him, replying to both questions in the negative. Nevertheless, he went
through a course of theology, which, in truth, was incumbent on all Mr.
Morton’s pupils; he also studied the rudiments of political science; he ac-
quired a satisfactory knowledge of mathematics, logic, natural philosophy.
history, geography ; something considerable he knew, too, of Latin, Greek.
Hebrew, French, and Italian; and—not least useful accomplishment—he
learned to write his mother tongue with ease, accuracy, and vigour.

That he profited by his studies at school, and that he afterwards improved
to the uttermost the scanty leisure of a busy life, is abundantly proved by
the variety and erudition of his writings.

Soon after he had completed his education, he was placed in the ware-
house of a wholesale hose-factor, to be instructed, perhaps, in book-keeping

* Lee, ‘’ Daniel De Foe, his Life,” &c., vol £ p. 5.
A CHARACTERISTIC ANECDOTE, 1]

and business management. Such details were little in accordance with his
tastes, and we do not wonder that, with his strong Protestant principles and
enlarged sympathies, he early plunged into the fierce joys of political con-
test. He was no bigot, however—no fanatical exponent of his own views;
and though a sound Protestant, he was little inclined to join in the unreason-
ing persecution of Roman Catholics which characterized the closing years
of Charles the Second’s reign. At a later time he wrote: “I never blame
men who, profegsing principles destructive of the Constitution they live
under, and believing it their just right to supplant it, act in conformity to
the principles they profess. I believe, if I were a Papist, I should do the
same. Believing the merit of it would carry me to heaven, I doubt not I
should go as far as another. But when we ran up that plot to genera:
massacres, fleets of pilgrims, bits and bridles, knives, handcuffs, and a thou-
sand such things, I confess, though a boy, I could not then, nor can now,
come up to them. And my reasons were, as they still are, because I see no
cause to believe the Papists to be fools, whatever else we had occasion to
think them. A general massacre, truly! when the Papists are not five to a
hundred, in some countries not one, and within the city hardly one toa
thousand!”

This liberal and tolerant spirit De Foe preserved throughout his career,
and few of his contemporaries, if any, more thoroughly comprehended the
true principles of civil and religious freedom. For bigotry, whether Protest-
ant or Roman Catholic, he had a great contempt. On one occasion he
sntered a crowd of listeners who, with mouths and ears open, were devour-
ing the latest scandal against “the Papishes.” An itinerant spouter was
retailing an invention in reference to the newly-erected Monument. ‘ Last
night,” said he, unblushingly, “‘six Frenchmen came up and stole it away ;
and but for the watch, who stopped them as they went over the bridge, and
made them carry it back again, they might, for aught we know, have carried
it over into France. These Papishes will never have done.” Some of the
bystanders looked incredulous at this very bold assertion, and Mr. Daniel
Foe stepped forward, with grave satirical air, to clench the monstrous
absurdity. He repeated the story, but added a touch of characteristic
realism ; for, said he, if you do but hasten to the spot, you will see the work-
men employed in making all fast again! *

Seven years later, De Foe, or Foe, as he then called himself, started in
business on his own account. He became a liveryman of London, and
established himself as hose-factor in Freeman’s Court, Cornhill. His interest
in politics, however, was of so deep and absorbing a kind that his commer-
cial speculations must greatly have suffered by it. He could not serve two
masters—he was too earnest a patriot to attain success as a man of business
Now-a-days, it is quite possible for any one of us to combine both capacities
The political questions which demand attention may well be considered in

* Forster, ‘‘ Historical and Biographical Essays,” ii. & *
12 DE FOE AS A POLITICIAN.

the intervals of our leisure, and they are seldom of that order on which the
safety of an empire depends. But in De Foe’s time it was quite otherwise.
He who plunged into the raging strife was compelled to throw aside every
impediment, and to fight, if he fought at all, with arms and hands unen-
cumbered. The seven years of his apprenticeship had been seven most
eventful years, and De Foe, with his far-seeing sagacity, could not but
rightly estimate the importance of the issue. He was too courageous and
too wise to fear that issue. As Mr. Forster eloquently and truly says, hope
would brighten in his sensible, manly heart, when it most deserted weaker
men’s When the King, alarmed at last for the safety of the crown he dis-
honoured, flung off his licentious negligence for crueller enjoyments; when
the street ballads and lampoons against his shameless court grew daily
bitterer and more daring; when a Sidney and a Russell were brought to the
block for advocating such a measure of liberty as would now-a-days be con-
sidered moderate by the most slavish partisan of Cesarism; no alarm was
likely to depress De Foe’s clear, calm. and unshaken intellect. And the end
of that Saturnalia of license and shame, of foul cruelty, of fouller luxurious-
ness, of tyranny at home and disgrace abroad, which we call the reign of
Charles II., came at length—Charles IT. was dead, and caps were thrown in
the air for James II.

This is not the place for an historical summary, and yet in the history of
his time De Foe played so prominent a part that an occasional glance at its
leading events must be permitted us. The intentions of James II. he fully
understood and appreciated. He saw that he aimed at the establishment of
Popery as his end in religion, and the absolutism of the Crown as the goal
of his policy. He heard bishops preach of the divine right and infallibility
of Kings; he heard it publicly asserted, that if the King commanded his
head, and sent his messengers to fetch it, he was bound to submit, and stand
still while it was cut off. We need not wonder that, under such circum-
stances, De Foe gladly hailed the so-called rebellion of the Duke of Mon-
mouth as affording a prospect of deliverance for his country. Its religion and
its freedom seemed to him to be intimately bound up with the success of the
Duke's expedition; and mounting his horse, he rode away to enlist under
his standard. He was with the invaders at Bath and Bristol; but—how or
why I know not—he was absent from the great fight at Sedgemoor, when
the King’s cause was so nearly lost. On learning of Monmouth’s disastrous
defeat, he would seem to have gained the sea-shore and taken ship to the
Continent. With his usual energy he turned his self-banishment to advan-
tage, traversing Spain, and Germany, and France, and gathering a vast fund
of experience and information, which in due time proved to him of the
highest value.

It was probably in the following year that he returned to Freeman's
Court, Cornhill. Thenceforth he wrote himself De Foe. Whether, says
A Forster, the change was @ piece of innocent vanity picked up in his
WHAT'S IN A NAME? 18

travels, or had any more serious motive, it would now be idle to inquire
He was known both as Foe and De Foe to the last; but it is the latter name
which he inscribed on the title-page of almost every one of his books, and it
is the name by which he has become immortal.

Mr. Lee, De Foe’s latest biographer, differs from all preceding authorities
in dating the change of name as late as 1708. “Iam inclined to think,”
he says, “it began accidentally, or was adopted for convenience, to dis-
tinguish him from his father.” But surely such a distinction was unneces-
sary, when the son was called Daniel and the father James! I think the
change far more likely to have been a foreign affectation, adopted during
the exile’s Continental travels, and afterwards persevered in from habit;
but the reader shall have an opportunity of following up the chain of Mr.
Lee’s reasoning, which is ingenious, if unsatisfactory.

“The father,” he says, “from his age and experience, and the son from
his commanding ability, were both influential members of the Dissenting
interest in the city. They would respectively be spoken of and addressed,
orally, as Mr. Foe, and Mr. D, Foe. The name as spoken would in writing
become Mr. De Foe,* and thus what originated in accident might be used for
convenience, and become more or less settled by time. This simple expla-
nation is favoured by the following proofs of De Foe’s indifference in the
matter. His initials and name appear in various forms in his works, sub-
scribed to dedications, prefaces, &c., aud this may be presumed to have beer
done by himself. Before 1703 I find only D. F. In that year Mr. De Foe,
and Daniel De Foe. “In the following year, D. D. F.; De Foe; and Daniel
De Foe. In 1705, D, F.; and three autograph letters, all addressed to the
Earl of Halifax, are successively signed D. Foe; De Foe; Daniel De Foe. In
1706, D. F.; D. Foe; De Foe; Daniel De Foe. And in 1709, D. F.; De Foe
and Daniel De Foe.”

The first printed production from De Foe’s pen was a political pamphlet,
the precursor of a legion of similar writings, entitled “A Letter, containing
some Reflections on His Majesty’s Declaration for Liberty of Conscience,”
dated the 4th of April 1687.

In the following year William of Orange landed at Torbay, and De Foe,
zealous as ever in the noble cause of civil and religious liberty, hastened te
welcome “ The Deliverer,” in whose success lay the only hope of the release
of England from the thraldom of bigotry and absolutism. Armed, and on
horseback, he joined the second line of William’s army a* Henley-on-Thames.
He probably accompanied the Prince on his entry into London. At the
stirring debates of the Convention he was unquestionably present, and his
heart must have leaped with joy when he heard the famous resolution passed,
on the 18th of February, that no King had reigned in England since the day
of James’s flight. Gallantly mounted and accoutred, he was one of “ the

“Surely not! There is a great difference in sound between the English D. and the
French De.
14 DE FOE AND HIS SOVEREIGN.

royal regiment of volunteer horse, made up of the chief citizens,” who at-
tended William and Mary on their first visit to Guildhall. Between William
and the sturdy political Dissenter there was a striking resemblance of char-
acter. Both were self-reserved, self-controlled men, masters of their emo-
tions, able to preserve silence and to “stand alone.” Both had a sincere
respect for the principles of an enlightened toleration. Both shared the
same opinions on the necessity of counter-checking the preponderant power
of France. Even in religious matters the views and thoughts of the Luth-
eran King must have closely approximated to those of his Nonconformist
subject. Certain it is that the sympathy between the two was considerable.
William honoured De Foe with his confidence, and De Foe looked up to his
King with esteem and admiration. To the close of his life he celebrated as
a festival the memorable 4th of November, the day on which William landed
at Torbay,—‘‘a day,” he exultingly wrote, “‘ famous on yarious accounts, and
every one of them dear to Britons who love their country, yalue the Pro-
testant interest, or have an aversion to tyranny and oppression. On this
day he was born; on this day he married the daughter of England; and on
this day he rescued the nation from a bondage worse than that of Egypt—
a bondage of soul as well as bodily servitude—a slavery to the ambition and
raging lust of a generation set on fire by pride, avarice, cruelty, and blood,” *

* Review, vol iv. p. 453.
CHAPTER IL.

A LIFE OF STRUGGLE.

   

» FOE celebrated the first anniversary of the Day of Deliverance
& «at a country house in the pleasant village of Tooting. He
resided here for some time, forming the Dissenters of the neigh-
bourhood into a regular congregation, and supplying them
with a devout and learned man for minister. He afterwards
removed to the neighbourhood of Mickleham, ‘“ the Happy
Valley,” as it has not unjustly been called, in allusion to the
rich and cultivated loveliness of its landscapes.

In 1689 and 1690 we hear but little of De Foe, except that hestill attempted,
and, as we shall see, with but little success, to combine the pursuit of poli-
tics with that of business. In 1691 appeared his first effort in verse, entitled
““A New Discovery of an Old Intrigue: a Satire level’d at Treachery and
Ambition ; calculated tp the Nativity of the Rapparee Plott, and the Modesty
of the Jacobite Clergy.”’ Like all De Foe’s productions in metre, it contains
much solid sense, and many vigorous lines; but it is utterly destitute of
imagination and fancy, and not less destitute of all melody of language and
harmony of rhythm.

In the following year began the series of distressing commercial difficulties
which finally terminated in De Foe’sinsolvency. There can be no reasonable
doubt that they were due to his own want of business habits. A politician
and a wit, he was wholly unsuited for the proper management of commercial
speculations. In his book, “The Compleat Tradesman,” ho shows that he
perfectly understood the causes of his ill-success. ‘A wit turned trades-
man!” he exclaims, “ what an incongruous part of nature is there brought
together, consisting of direct contraries! No apron strings will hold him;
‘tis in vain to lock him in behind the compter—he’s gone in a moment:
instead of journal and ledger, he runs away to his Virgil and Horace ; hia
journal entries are all Pindaricks, and his ledger all Heroicks: he is truly
dramatic from one end to the other, through the whole scene of his trade;
and as the first part is all comedy, so the two last acts are all made up with
tragedy ; a statute of bankrupt is his Ezeunt omnes, and he generally speaks
the epilogue in the Fleet Prison or the Mint.”

An angry creditor took out against De Foe a commission of bankruptcy
16 ‘“AN ESSAY ON PROJECTS.”

which, however, was soon superseded at the request of his other creditors ;
and De Foe’s proposal of composition was accepted on his single bond. It
should be added, to his honour, that this he punctually paid by the most
indefatigable exertion of industry and self-denial. And afterwards, when
misfortune overtook some of these more lenient creditors, De Foe, whom King
William’s favour had meanwhile raised to a position of comparative afilu-
ence, voluntarily paid the whole amount of their claims.

While his proposal was being debated by his creditors, De Foe, to avoid
imprisonment, had taken refuge in Bristol; and here, it is said, he was
known as the ‘“‘ Sunday gentleman,” because, from fear of the bailiffs, he
could not appear in public on any other day. But on these public appear-
ances he was gaily dressed, in a fine flowing wig, lace ruffies, and with a
sword by his side. His enforced leisure he occupied in the composition of
his admirably practical ‘“‘ Essay on Projects;’’ which, however, was not pub-
lished until two years afterwards,

Forster describes it as ‘‘a most shrewd, wise, and memorable piece of
writing.” It suggested various reforms in the English system of banking.
and a plan for central county banks; it demonstrated the immense advan-
tages of an efficient improvement of the public roads, as a source of public
benefit and revenue ; it recommended, for the security of trade, a mitigation
of the severities of the law against the honest bankrupt, and a more effect-
ual system of check against practised knavery; it proposed the general
establishment of offices for insurance “in every case of risk;” it enforced
in impressive language the expediency of friendly societies, and of a kind of
savings’ bank, among the poor; and, with a sagacity far in advance of the
age, urged the solemn necessity of a more humane custody of lunatics, which
was aptly described as ‘a particular rent-charge on the great family of
mankind.”

His banishment at Bristul being terminated by his creditors’ frank accept-
ance of his proposal of composition, De Foe returned to London, where he was
soon afterwards concerned, ‘‘ with some eminent persons at home,” in pro-
posing financial ways and means to the English Government for conducting
the great war with France. This service led to his appointment as account-
ant to the Commissioners of the Glass Duty (1694-1699) ; and this appoint-
ment probably furnished him with resources for the establishment of exten-
sive tile-kiln and brick-kiln works at Tilbury,* on the Thames, where, for
several years, he gave employment to upwards of a hundred poor workmen,
and where, among the rough and daring men who frequented the banks of
the great river, he probably gathered much of that nautical knowledge and
information about strange countries which he afterwards turned to so
excellent an advantage.

* He appears, at first, to have been one of a company, but, after a while, became sole

proprietor.
t Mr. Lee describes an interesting visit which he paid to the rite of these works. ‘‘In

(284)
“THE TRUE-BORN ENGLISHMAN.” nn

He now began to pay off his debts rapidly, and yearly to increase in
worldly prosperity. He supported with indefatigable pen the principal
measures of William III.; advocated the formation of a small standing
army; defended the great principle of religious toleration; and lent his
powerful influence to the creation in England of an enlightened public opin-
ion on these and other important subjects. His second poetical satire,
“The Pacificator,’ appeared in 1700, and is superior to the first in cogency
and point. Early in the following vear he published the best of his poems,
“The True-born Englishman;” which, more than any of his previous works,
tended to attract the attention of the public. It was designed as a reply to |
‘“‘a vile abhorred pamphlet, in very ill verse. written by one Mr. Tutchin, and
called The Foreigners; in which the author fell personally upon the King
himself, and then upon the Dutch nation.” The satire is strong and
trenchant, and commanded such general popularity that it passed through
nine genuine editions in a twelvemonth, and through twelve pirated editions
in less than three years. Its object was to show the composite character of
the English race—

“Saxon, and Norman, and Dane are we ;”

and to prove that its success was owing to its very admixture of blood. ‘I'he
first four lines have become familiar as househo!d words—

“Wherever God erects a house of prayer,
The Devil always builds a chapel there ;
And ‘twill be found, upon examination,
The latter has the largest congregation.”

But the satire itself has now fallen into oblivion, simply because, clever

the year 1860,” he says, “‘when the London, Tilbury, and Southend Railway was com-
pleted, thinking that the excavations might discover some remains of De Foe’s tile-works,
I made a day’s excursion to the locality. Immediately on the west side of the Tilbury
Station a large plot of land was being dug over to form potato-ground for the railway
servants ; and a deep trench had been previously cut through the same to the river to
drain the company’s estate. In this way the whole of De Foe’s brick and pan-tile works
had been laid open, including the clay-pits, drying-floors, foundations of kilns. and other
buildings. Large quantities of bricks and tiles had been excavated, and thrown into
heaps, to clear the land for its intended purpose. The pan-tiles appear to have attracted
very little notice ; but the narrowness of the bricks, and the peculiar forms of certain
tobacco-pipes, found mixed with both, had excited some little wonderment among the
labourers. I asked several how they thought these things came there, and was answered
by an ignorant shake of the head. But when I said, ‘These bricks and tiles were made
a hundred and sixty years since, by the same man that made Robinson Crusoe !’ I touched
a chord that connected these railway ‘navvies’ with the shipwrecked mariner, and that
bounded over the intervening period in a single moment. Every eye brightened, every
tongne was ready to ask or give information, and every fragment became interesting.
Porters, inspector, and station-master soon gathered round me, wondering at what was
deemed an important historical revelation. The pan-tiles made at Tilbury were of
excellent manufacture, and still retain a fine red colour, close texture, and are quite
sonorous. Neither the Dutch nor any other tiles could have driven them out of the
market, and the maker would have been able, from proximity to London and facilities of
conveyance, either to undersell the foreign dealer or to realize a proportionately larger
profit.”—Lee, ‘‘ Daniel De Foe,” i. 32.

aod 2
18 A PLEA FOR CONSTITUTIONAL GOVERNMENT.

and incisive, and shrewd though i!
is, it lacks the elements of genuine
poetry.*
King William deeply felt the value
> of the service which De Foe had ren-
dered him. He sent for him to the
palace; received him with marked
kindness; employed him in con-
fidential commissions; and from
that time accorded him free access
—to his cabinet. In these inter-
SX views the .great questions of the
* day were frankly discussed, and
especially that all-important ques-
‘tion, the union of England and
Scotland. On this point De Foe

 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  

eos . SS pressed the King closely: “ It shall
be done.” said William, ‘“ but not
PORTRAIT OF KING WILLIAM IIL t af
yet.

Cheered and encouraged by the royal confidence, De Foe resumed his pen
with more energy than ever. In the limits to which we are confined it
would be impossible to record even the titles of the numerous forcible and
well-reasoned pamphlets produced by his indefatigable industry. It is a
significant mark of the fulness of his mind and the versatility of his intellect
that not one of them is below mediocrity, while many rise far above it. The
most interesting and the ablest of those which appeared prior to the death
of William is the celebrated pamphlet entitled “ The Original Power of the
Collective Body of the People of England, Examined and Asserted. With
a Double Dedication to the King and to the Parliament.’ Mr. Chalmers
rightly says of it, ‘‘ Every lover of liberty must be pleased with the perusal
of a treatise which vies with Mr. Locke’s famous tract in power of reasoning,
and is superior to it in the graces of style.” Mr. Forster, a still more com-
petent judge, describes it as distinguished for its plain and nervous diction,
The grounds of popular representation, he says, are so happily condensed
and so clearly stated in it, that it became the text-book of political disput-
ants from the days of the expulsion of Walpole and of Wilkes to those ot
the Reform Bill. It may be briefly described, he continues, as a demonstra

* “In this composition the satire was strong, powerful, and manly, upbraiding the
English Tories for their unreasonable prejudice against foreigners ; the rather that there
were so many nations blended in the mass now called Englishmen. The verse was rough
and mistuned, for De Foe never seems to have possessed an ear for the melody of language,
whether in prose or verse. But though wanting ‘the long resounding verse and energy
divine’ of Dryden, he had often masculine expressions and happy turns of thought not
unwoithy of the author of Absalom and Achitophel, though, upon the whole, his style

seems rather to have been formed on that of Hall, Oldham, and the elder satirists.”—
Sir Walter Scott, “‘ Biographies: Danicl De Foe” (edit. 1847) p. 397.
a

DE FOE LOSES A PATRON. 19

tion of the predominance of the ori-
ginal (the People’s) over the dele-
gated authority (that of King and
Parliament) ; and remains still, as it
was when first written, the ablest,
plainest, and most courageous ex
position in our language of the doc-
trine on which our own and all free
political constitutions rest.

On the 8th of March 1702 Eng-
land lost a great ruler, and De Foe
a wise patron, by the death of
William III. It was a signal loss
to the nation and the individual;
but nations outlive such losses; to
De Foe it was irreparable. Had
William reigned a few years longer,
we can hardly doubt that his ad-
herent would have risen to some
high office in the State. But then, we should probably have lost ‘ Robin-
son Crusoe” and “Colonel Jack.” So true it is that the public generally
profit by private sufferings.

The attitude assumed by the Tory faction at the death of the King was in
every sense unbecoming. That they should rejoice at the accession of Anne,
and the restoration of the Stuart line to the throne, was not wonderful; but
to lampoon the memory of the great sovereign who had saved their country
from a mean and narrow tyranny was unworthy of a powerful party. De
Foe poured out the vial of his wrath on these traducers in a poem, entitled
“The Mock Mourners: a Satire, by way of Elegy on King William;” which
is remarkable for its earnestness and dignity of tone. It passed through seven
large editions in atwelvemonth. To the last De Foe preserved his affec-
tionate respect for the memory of William, and spoke of him as “the best
King England ever saw.’ And once, when suffering from unjust persecution,
he pathetically exclaimed, “ I shall never forget his goodness to me. It was
my honour and advantage to call him master as well as sovereign. I never
patiently heard his memory slighted, nor ever can do so. Had he lived, he
would never have suffered me to be treated as I have been in this world.”

With the accession of Queen Anne the political atmosphere changed
mightily. Whig principles went out of fashion; Whig politicians were but
coldly received at the new sovereign’s cabinet; 1 Tory Government was
appointed ; all the old doctrines of divine right and passive obedience were
preached from High Church pulpits; and the necessity of conformity to the
doctrines and liturgy of the English Church was urged with uncompromising
violence. De Foe was no blind antagonist of the Church of England, but he

 

PORTRAIT OF QUEEN ANNE,
20 A SATIRE MISUNDERSTOOD

was honestly and conscientiously a Dissenter, and he could not refrain from
coming forward at the call of duty to awaken the eyes of his brethren to
their dangerous position. He knew that argument or expostulation or en-
treaty in such a crisis would be of little value, and therefore he determined
to resort to the weapon of irony. He wrote and published—without his name,
of course—his ‘‘Shortest Way with the Dissenters,” in which he gravely
recommended, as the only effectual method of dealing with them, their
extermination. ‘“’Tis in vain,’’ he writes. ‘ to trifle in this matter. We
can never enjoy a settled, uninterrupted union in this nation, till the spirit
of Whiggism, faction, and schism, is melted down like the old money. Here
is the opportunity to secure the Church, and destroy her enemies. I do not
prescribe fire and fagot, but Delenda est Carthago. They are to be rooted out
of this nation, if ever we will live in peace or serve God. The light foolish
handling of them by fines is their glory and advantage. If the gallows
instead of the compter, and the galleys instead of the fines, were the reward
of going to a conventicle, there would not be so many sufferers.”

So ably and so seriously was this piece of bitter sarcasm written, that at
first the whole nation was taken in; Dissenters went wild with apprehen-
sion, Jacobites and High Churchmen with delight. Then, all of a sudden,
people awoke to the author’s true intention. It was discovered that that
author was a Dissenter, and that his satire was directed against the advocates
of conformity. A loud ery for vengeance immediately went up to heaven;
and, to the disgrace of the Dissenters, they joined in it. They had been
deceived, and in a fit of cowardly fury they turned upon the man who had
deceived them, though the deception was wholly intended for their advantage.

The House of Commons took up the matter. The tract was declared a
libel, and ordered to be burned by the hands of the common hangman. The
Government was advised to prosecute its author. When he saw what a terrible
storm was rising De Foe fled; but a reward of £50 was offered for his appre-
hension. In the proclamation in the ‘‘ London Gazette,” he was described
as ‘‘a middle-sized, spare man, about forty years old, of a brown complexion,
but wears a wig: a hooked nose, a sharp chin, gray eyes, and a large mole
near his mouth.” At first he escaped detection. The Government then
flung into prison the printer and the bookseller, and De Foe immediately sur-
rendered himself. He would allow no man to suffer the consequences of any
action of his; for this he was too brave, too manly, and too honourable. He
surrendered ; was imprisoned ; was indicted at the Old Bailey in July 1708;
was entangled by a promise of royal mercy into an admission of the libel;
was declared guilty; and sentenced to pay a fine of 500 marks, to stand
three times in the pillory, to be imprisoned during the Queen’s pleasure,
and to find sureties for good behaviour for seven years. Such was the ini-
quitous sentence which power pronounced upon a man for daring to be
wittier than his fellows!

Twenty days were allowed him to prepare for the pillory. He occupied
DE FOE IN THE PILLORY. 21

them characteristically ; first, by composing a pamphlet, “The Shortest
Way to Peace and Union,” in which the heroic man endeavoured to mediate
between Dissenters on the one hand, and High Churchmen on the other; and,
secondly, by writing his celebrated satire, ‘A Hymn to the Pillory,” in which
a just indignation has almost made him a poct.* Addressing the intended
instrument of his shame, he nobly says :—
“Hail! hieroglyphic State-machine,

Contrived to punish Fancy in ;

Men that are men, in thee can feel no pain,

And all thy insignificants disdain.

Contempt, that false new word for shame,

Is, without crime, an empty name;

A shadow to amuse mankind,

But ne’er to fright the wise or well-fixed mind—

Virtue despises human scorn!”

On the 29th of July 1708, the author of this daring hymn was exposed in
the pillory before the Royal Exchange in Cornhill; on the day following,
near the Conduit in Cheapside; and on the 81st, at Temple Bar.f What,
however, was meant for his shame and humiliation proved to be for his great
honour andrenown. The multitude felt that the pilloried hero was a man whe
had fought steadfastly and bravely their own battles, and instead of loading
him with insults, they greeted him with shouts of welcome. They wreathed
garlands of flowers about the “ State-machine,” and passed from hand to
hand the rough but manly and vigorous ode in which he had flung defiance
at his oppressors. “The people were expected to treat me very ill,” he
says, “but it was not so. On the contrary, they were with me, wished
those who had set me there were placed in my room; and expressed their
affections by loud shouts and acclamations when I was taken down.”

His persecutors, nevertheless, though foiled in this particular measure of
persecution, were more successful in others. De Foe retired from the pillory
to Newgate, and his long imprisonment was necessarily the ruin of his busi-
ness. He was obliged, at a loss of upwards of £3500, to abandon his large and
prosperous works at Tilbury, and for the support of a wife and six children,
to fall back upon his pen. With a courage which could not be shaken, and
a perseverance that could not be abated, he plied that pen indefatigably.
He issned a collection of his works, prefixing his portrait to the first volume:
it represents him with a resolute countenance, a massive chin, firm and
well-set mouth, and eyes full of intellect and energy. Meanwhile, a very
Ishmael in politics, he defended himself against the attacks of a cloud of
enemies. Like Harry of the Wynd, in Scott’s romance, he fought for his own
hand, and he fought gallantly. Under his heavy and incessant blows, the
stoutest assailant reeled. But he did not confine himself to political pam-

* “Indignatio facit versus.”-—Horace.

t Every one remembers Pope’s paltry allusion to this incident :—

“‘Earless on high stood unabashed De Foe,
And Tutchin flagrant from the scourge below.”
22 THE FIRST ENGLISH ‘ REVIEW.”

phlets. With a remarkable versatility, he discussed the deepest theological
questions; he wrote against a proposed censorship of the press; he advocated
the claims of authors to a protection of their copyright; he compiled a
wonderfully graphic account of the “ Great Storm ” of 1704; and finally, in
the February of that year he began his famous “ Review.

This was a complete novelty in English literature. and may be regarded
as the true precursor of some celebrated periodicals of the present day. It
was at first a quarto sheet, published weekly, at the price of apenny. After
the fourth number it was reduced to half a sheet, but printed in closer type
and in double columns, and sold for twopence. After the eighth number it was
published twice a week, on Tuesdays and Saturdays. In due time monthly
supplements were issued, and finally it appeared on Tuesdays, Thursdays
and Saturdays. So it continued, written solely by De Foe, for nine years
(February 19, 1704, to June 11, 1718).

Such was its form. lis contents were of the most miscellancous description.
It dealt largely with politics, but scarcely less largely with morals. It com-
bined both public and personal questions; it corrected the vices, it ridiculed
the follies of the age. As a general indication of its character, we may
summarize the contents of the first volume, omitting those of a political
cast.*

 

It condemns the prevalent practice of excessive drinking; it ridicules the
not less prevalent practice of excessive swearing; it censures the laxity
which had crept into the relations of married life; it denounces in no measured
terms the licentiousness of the stage; it discusses the various questions
affecting trade and pauperism; it inveighs against the mania for gambling
speculations; and it boldly reprobates the barbarous custom of duelling.

All these widely different topics are treated by De Foe unaided, and
the sagacity and vigour evident in every article fill the reader with
wonder at the man’s genius, industry, and multifarious information. The
machinery he adopted for the discussion of non-political matters was a so-
called “ Scandal Club,” organized to reccive complaints and to decide upon
them. It acted in the following manner :—*‘ A gentleman appears before the
club, and complains of his wife. She is a bad wife; he cannot exactly tell
why. There is a long examination, proving nothing; when suddenly a

member of the club begs pardon for the question, and asks if his worship

 

was a good husband. His worship, greatly surprised at such a question, is
again at a loss to answer. Whereupon the club pass these resolutions :—
1. That most women that are bad wives are made so by bad husbands.
2. That this society will hear no complaints against a virtuous bad wife,
from a vicious good husband. 8. That he that has a bad wife, and can't
find the reason of it in her, ’tis ten to one that he finds it in himself. And
the decision finally is, that the gentleman is to go home, and be a good
husband for at least three months; after which, if his wife is still uncured,

* John Forster, ‘‘ Biographical Essays,” ii. 55, 56.
AN INDUSTRIOUS MAN OF LETTERS. 28

they will proceed against her as they shall find cause. In this way pleas
and defences are heard on the various points that present themselves in the
subjects named, and not seldom with a lively dramatic interest.”

In August 1704, De Foe, at the instance of the statesman Harley, who
was now in power, received his releaso from Newgate. Hariey, always
anxious to seeure the assistance of able and moderate writers, had sent a
message “by word of mouth” to the author of “The Trve-born Englishman:”
“Pray, ask Mr. De Foe what I can do for him.” De Foe took a piece of
paper and wrote in reply: “ Lord, dost thou see that I am blind, and yet
ask me what thou shalt do forme! My answer is plain in my misery—
‘Lord, that I may receive my sight!’” *

With his health much injured by his long imprisonment, De Foe retired
to a small house at Bury in Suffolk. He did not desist, however, from his
literary labours. Marlborough had commenced his wonderful career with
the great victory of Blenheim, and De Foo celebrated it in a “ Hymn to
Victory.” Then followed replies to High Church and Tory pamphlets; a
wise and earnest invective against indiscriminate alms-giving (“ Giving Alms
in Charity”); The Double Welcome,” a poem to the Duke of Marlborough
(1708), as prosaic as most of his poems; and an admirable prose satire on
the follies of the times, entitled * The Consolidator; or, Memoirs of Sundry
Transactions from the World in the Moon. Translated from the Lunar
Language.”

De Foe by this time had returned to London, and, as an avowed supporter
of the Harley or Whig Government, had again plunged into the thick of the
political fray. For his own happiness he had better have kept out of it, and
only a strong sense of duty could have supported him under the afflictions
he endured. His enemies employed every artifice of annoyance, and the
whole machinery of persecution. He was harassed with false warrants of
wrest; with sham actions; with claims for pretended debts. His life was
threatened in anonymous letters; the foullest slanders assailed his morals;
he was subjected to the grossest misrepresentation of his principles. Yet,
bating not one jot of heart or hope, he pursued the even tenor of his way,
advocating whatever he thought would advance the cause of truth and
liberty, fiercely denouncing the intolerance of bigots and the dishonesty of

faction. In his “ Hymn to Peace” (1706), he forcibly describes his con-
dition —

“Storms of men,
Voracious and unsatisfied as Death,
Spoil in their hands, and poison in their breath,
With rage of devils hunt me down.”

But De Foe was not the man to be hunted down, and he turned on his
hunters with a daring and a resolution that effectually brought them to bay.
The first example of that marvellous realism which is the special charac

* De Foe, ‘‘ Appeal to Honour and Justice ” p. 12.
24 DE FOE’S POWER AS A REALIST.

teristic of his works of fiction, he gave in his celebrated “True Relation of
the Apparition of one Mrs. Veal, the next day after her death, to one Mrs.
Bargraye, at Canterbury ” (published in July 1706). Being prefixed to the
fourth edition of a somewhat dreary work, Drelincourt on “ Death,” it
raised the latter on the flood-tide of popularity, while its own merits as a
masterly piece of narrative were acknowledged by the best judges. The
incidents it relates are utterly improbable; yet are they told with such
exquisite simplicity, and with so subtle an accumulation of details, that he
who reads is almost forced to believe, in spite of his own judgment.* The
power which afterwards secured the fame of “ Robinson Crusoe ” is visible
on every page.

Of all the fictions, says an able writer.t which De Foe has succeeded in
palming off as truths, none is more instructive than that admirable ghost, Mrs.
Veal. It is, as it were, a hand-specimen, in which we may study his modus
operandi on a convenient scale. Like the sonnets of some great poets, it
contains in a few lines all the essential peculiarities of his art. The first
device which strikes us is his ingenious plan for manufacturing corrobora-
tive evidence. The ghost appears to Mrs. Bargrave. The story of the
apparition is told by a * very sober and understanding gentlewoman, who
lives within a few doors of Mrs. Bargrave;” and the character of this
sober gentlewoman is supported by the testimony of a justice of peace at
Maidstone, “a very intelligent person.” This elaborate chain of evidence
is intended to divert our attention from the obvious circumstance that the
whole story rests upon the authority of the anonymous person who tells us
of the sober gentlewoman, who supports Mrs. Bargrave, and is informed by
the intelligent justice.

Another stratagem, carried out with equal success, is the apparent im-
partiality of the narrator.

The author, says the writer already quoted. affects to tuke us into his
confidence, to make us privy in regard to the pros and cons in regard to his
own characters, till we are quite disarmed. The sober gentlewoman
vouches for Mrs. Bargrave; but Mrs. Bargrave is by no means allowed to
have it all her own way. Mr. Veal is brought in, apparently to throw dis-
credit on her character; but his appearance is so well managed, that its
effect is to render us readier than before to accept Mrs. Bargrave’s story.
“The argument is finally clenched by a decisive coincidence. The ghost
wears a silk dress. In the course of a long conversation, she incidentally
mentioned to Mrs. Bargrave that this was a scoured silk, newly made up.
When Mrs. Bargrave reported this remarkable circumstance to a certain
Mrs. Wilson, ‘You have certainly seen her,’ exclaimed that lady, ‘ for

* It is by no means impossible that De Foe himself accredited the possibility of such
a visitation, and that he advocated many of the theories now put forward as new by the
so-called Spiritualists.

t “Cornhill Magazine,” vol. xvii. pp. 295, 296.
THE UNION OF ENGLAND AND SCOTLAND. 25

none knew but Mrs. Veal and myself that the gown had been scoured.’
To this crushing piece of evidence, it seems that neither Mr. Veal (nor any
other assailant of Mrs. Bargrave) could invent any sufficient reply. One
can almost fancy De Foe chuckling as he concocted tlie refinements of this
most marvellous narrative.

We pass from the “Apparition of Mrs. Veal” to the poem of ‘ Jure
Divino,” published on the 20th of July 1706. The reasoning in it, as
Forster says, is better than the poetry; but much of the verse is vigorous,
and its forcible advocacy of constitutional principles made it popular with
large masses of the people. In this, as in other works, De Foe lays claim
to be considered as the real founder of the Moderate Whigs—of the political
party represented at a later period by Fox, Huskisson, Russell, and Grey.

The year 1706 was rendered remarkable in English history by the legis-
lative movement in favour of a union between England and Scotland. AsI
have already stated, this was a favourite idea of De Foe’s, which he had
pressed upon King William; and it was his good fortune now to be con-
cerned in its realization. By the advice of the ministers Harley and
Godolphin he was despatched on a mission to Scotland; and he rendered
eflectual service in bringing to a successful issue the greatest measure of
statesmanship which for years had been submitted to an English Parliament.
He seems to have gained the esteem and good-will of all the Scotch officials
and illustrious Scotchmen with whom his duties brought him into contact;
and he certainly learned to admire the Scotch character, becoming thence-
forth a warm and vigorous advocate of the Scottish people. The Act of
Union was ratified by the Scotch Parliament on the 16th of January 1707;
by the English, on the 6th of March. Probably no measure ever concluded
between two allied nations has proved more fruitful in the happiest results
for both. Well might De Foe regard with honest pride his share in a
work so noble; and well may both England and Scotland love and honour
the memory, not only of the great novelist, but of the generous and sagacious
politician.

There are few better, and certainly no more interesting, narratives of the
circumstances attending this memorable event than that which is embodied
in De Foe’s own “ History of the Union,” published some years afterwards,
and written with unusual care.

In 1708 Harley was dismissed from the Cabinet; but as Godolphin con-
tinued in it, De Foe did not cease to give it his active support, though he
deeply felt the unmerited disgrace in which his liberal patron was involved.
He was at this time specially favoured by the Queen, and was again sent to
Scotland on a particular service, whose details do not seem certainly known
to any of his biographers. Soon afterwards the Godolphin Ministry fell, and
Harley formed an Administration, of which he became the acknowledged
head. De Foe supported him, so far as he approved of his measures, with
characteristic energy; but with equally characteristic honesty, he did not
26 THE RECOMPENSE OF A VETERAN,

hesitate to oppose him, when his actions were contrary to true liberal prin.
ciples. As I haye before said, I cannot enumerate all the pamphlets which
issued from his prolific pen. They are marked by his peculiar qualities of
mind and intellect, but to a great extent deal with temporary topics, and,
consequently, have no value except for the historical student. His warm
advocacy of a Protestant Succession to the throne procured him the honour
of a second imprisonment in Newgate; but Harley interfered, and procured
his release. Then came, in 1714, the end of the political crisis which had
marked the last years of Queen Anne. The Tories and Jacobites were defeated
with unexpected ease, and instead of a Stuart, who had learned nothing
by exile, George I. reigned on the throne of Great Britain, representing in his
person, however inadequately, the triumph of the principles of constitutional
government. For the present, therefore, De Foe’s work as a politician was
done. He had fought the battle, almost unaided, for two and thirty years,
and retired from it with nothing to show but honourable sears. Less
earnest men, such as Addison, and Steele, and Rowe, and Tickell, came in for
places and pensions; but the foremost soldier, the truest and most enthusi-
astic patriot, reaped nothing but the consciousness of having done his duty.
In surveying the long struggle of his matured manhood, he was able to
say i—

“T was, from my first entering into the knowledge of public matters, and
have ever been to this day, a sincere lover to the constitution of my country—
zealous for liberty and the Protestant interest; but a constant follower cf
moderate principles, and a vigorous opposer of hot measures in all. [never
once changed my opinion, my principles, or my party; and, Jet what will
be said of changing sides, this I maintain, that I never once deviated from
the Revolution principles, nor from the doctrine of liberty and property on
which it was founded.”

Pausing here, at the close of the first period of De Foe’s career, I venture
to adopt some remarks by Mr. Forster as fairly descriptive of the character
of the man :—*

After all the objections that may justly be made to his opinions, on the
grounds of short-coming or excess, we believe that in the main features of
his history will be recognized a noble English example of the qualities
most prized by Englishmen. De Foe is our only famous politician and man
of letters, who represented, in its inflexible constancy, sturdy dogged resolu-
tion, unwearied perseverance, and obstinate contempt of danger and of
tyranny, the great middle-class English character. We believe it to be no
mere national pride to say, that, whether in its defects or its surpassing
merits, the world has had none other to compare with it. He lived in the
thickest stir of the conflict of the four most violent party reigns of English
history; and if we have at last entered into peaceful possession of most

* yohn Forster ‘‘ Biographical Essays,” ii. 0, 91.
 

 

 

    

THE CHARACTER OF AN HONEST MAN, 27

part of the rights at issue in those party struggles, it the more becomes us
to remember such a man with gratitude, and with wise consideration for
what errors we may find in him. He was too much in the constant heat ot
the battle to see all that we see now. He was not a philosopher himself,
but he helped philosophy to some wise conclusions. He did not stand at
the highest point of toleration,* or of moral wisdom ; but with his masculine,
active arm, he helped to lift his successors over obstructions which had
ived his own advance. He stood, in his opinions and his actions, alona
and apart from his fellow-men; but it was to show his fellow-men of later
times the value of a juster and larger fellowship, and of more generous modes
of action. And when he now retreated from the world Without to the
-yorld Within,f in the solitariness of his unrewarded service and integrity,
he had assuredly earned the right to challenge the higher recognition of
posterity. He was walking towards History with steady feet; and might
look up into her awful face with a brow unabashed and undismayed.

* Yet Iam inclined to think he better understood and more ardently advocated the
sreat doctrine of toleration than any man of his time, or any man since the Protector
Cromwell and his Latin secretary, John Milton.

+ Mr. Forster here shares the belief common to all De Foe’s biographers before Mr.
’s researches revealed the truth, that De Foe retired from political warfare after the
n of George I. We shall see that such was not the case.

 
  

 

 

 

DE FOE’S HOUSE aT NEWINGTON,
CHAPTER ILI.

DE FOE AS A WRITER OF FICTION,

    
 

ESERVING for our next chapter a brief summary of De Foe’s late:
political writings, I propose in the present to examine his career
4 Ry asa novelist; to regard him in the capacity in which, despite his
Sy valuable services to the cause of freedom and constitutional
government, he is best known and most admired by posterity.
Early in 1715 De Foe was visited with an attack of apoplexy;
the result, perhaps, of his severe and incessant labours, added to the storm
of undeserved obloquy which constantly assailed him. After his recovery,
which was slow and gradual, he produced a work entitled “The Family
Instructor, in Three Parts”
-—a work of nearly 450
pages, probably written be-
fore his illness, and revised
and published on his restora-
tion to health. It is a book
of admirable wisdom, con-
taining much devout and
zealous ‘counsel to fathers
and children, to masters and
servants, to husbands and
wives; and to me it illus-
trates, in a very forcible and
striking manner, the genuine
nature of the man, _ his
simple earnestness and un-
affected piety. Passing over,
as I have intimated my in-
tention to do, his minor
pamphlets and flying sheets,
| must notice, as published in 1717, his “ History of the Wars of Charles
XIL, King of Sweden ;” and his second series (1718) of ‘The Family
Instructor, in Two Parts: Part I., Relating to Family Breaches, and their
Obstructing Religious Duties; I, To the Great Mistake of Mixing the

 

DANTEL DE FOE.
THE FIRST PART OF ‘‘ ROBINSON CRUSOE.”

Passions in the Managing and Correcting of Children.”
brought to 1719, in which year, on the 25th of April, first appeared “ Tire

LIFE AND STRANGE SURPRIZING ADVENTURES OF RoBINSON CRUSOE.”

There can be no doubt
that the foundation of
this fascinating romance,
which for a century and
a half been the
favourite companion not
only of English boys but
of English men, was
afforded by the narrative
of Alexander Selkirk’s
experiences, as recorded
by Captain Woodes Rogers
in his account of “A
Cruising Voyage Round
the World: first to the
South Seas, thence to the
East Indies, and home-
ward by the Cape of Good
Nope; begun in 1708, and
finished in 1711.” Alex-
ander Selkirk was a native
of Largo, in the county
of Fife, where he was
born in 1676. In Dam-
pier’s expedition to the
South Seas he seryred as
a sailor on board Captain
Stradling’s ship; but quar-
relling with his officer,
deserted from the vessel
at the island of Juan
Fernandez in September
1704, and there lived alone

has

 

 

 

LIFE

STRANGE SURPRIZING

ADVENTURES

OF

ROBINSON CRUSOE,
Of TORK, Mariner:

Who lived Eight and Twenty Years,

all alone In an an -inhabited Ifland on the
Coaft of AMERICA, near the Mouth of
the Great River of OROONOQUE;

Having been caft on Shore"by Shipwreck, where-;
in all the Men perifhed but himfelf.
WITH
An Account how he was at faft as ftrangely deli-
ver'd by PYRATES.
Written by Himfelf.

LON DOWN
Printed for W Taytok atthe Ship in Parer-Nofler-

Row. MDCCXIX.

REDUCED FAC-SIMILE OF TITLE PAGE TO VOL. I. OP THS
FIRST EDITION OF ‘‘ ROBINSON CRUSOE.”

 

 

 

until released by Captain Woodes Rogers in February 1709.

Thus I am

 

 

Selkirk returned to England in 1711. In the following year his extra-
ordinary story was published by Captain Woodes Rogers, from whose
“Cruising Voyage” it was reprinted, in a quarto tract of twelve pages,
shortly afterwards. Another account appeared in Captain Edward Cooke’s
“ Voyage’ (1712); and on the 8rd December 1718, in the 26th number of
“The Englishman,” it was again related by Sir Richard Steele, who had
seen and conversed with its hero in London,
30 INVENTION VERSUS IMAGINATION.

In whatever form De Foe met with this curious instance of “ truth stranger
than fiction,” it certainly suggested to him the groundwork of “ Robinson
Crusoe ;’’—that is, he borrowed from it the idea of the island solitude (and
much of the charm
of the work is owing
to the circumstance
that its scenes tran-
spire in a lonely, sea-
girdled, remote, and

 

 

almost inaccessible
isle*); the construc-
tion of the two huts;
the abundance of
goats; and the cloth-
ing made out of their
skins. All the rest
he owed to his own
fertile and igventive
genius.

For it is invention
that is the character-
istic of the book
rather than imagina-
tion. There is more
imagination shown in
the island-episode of
Mr. Charles Reade’s
“ Woul Play” than in
al¥ * Robinson Cru.
soe,” from the be-
ginning to the end;
but in reading the
modern novel the

 

 

 

 

reader cannot once

REDUCED FAC-SIMILE SPECIMEN OF ILLUSTRATIONS TO THE ‘ nk
FIRST EDITION OF “ ROBINSON CRUSOE.” believe it is true; In

reading De Foe’s, the

thought never crosses his mind that it is untrue. Its very prosaism renders
the impression it produces greater; were it more poetical in form and spirit,
it would necessarily be less real. Yet it is difficult to understand how De
Foe could so absolutely ignore the poetical in his treatment of so poetical a
* It is worth notice that all the imitations of “Robinson Crusoe” have placed their
heroes in lonely islands, from “ Philip Quarll” down to ‘‘ Masterman Ready” and “‘Foul
Play.” Tennyson wrecks his “Enoch Arden” on an island, though for all practical pur-

poses the coast of the mainland would have answered quite as well But the very idea of
an ialand seems to be surrounded with a halo of romance.
 

DE FOE’S REAL STRENGTH. 3]

conception ; how he was never tempted to indulge in any glowing delinea
tion of tropical landscapes; how, from first to last, Fancy, with its many-
coloured gleams, should be so wholly absent from the picture. Almost the
only dramatic stroke in the romance—and its effect is so great that we
wonder its inventor refrained from further employment of a power which
he evidently possessed—is Crusoe’s discovery of the unknown footprint on
the sandy shore. Otherwise, the narrative flows on with an evenness, a
method, and a prosaic regularity which are absolutely wonderful, and which
so impose upon the reader that he accepts the most startling adventures as
if they were the ordinary events of life.

It seems to us that all De Foe’s strength lay in this inventiveness. His was
not the power of analyzing character. He was incapable of any psychological
development of passion or emotion. Not one of his heroes or heroines lives
in our recollection—except, indeed, Crusoe and Friday; and these, not
because they are boldly drawn, but from their association with certain
romantic circumstances. If we speak of Fielding, we immediately recall, with
all the sharpness and freshness of well-known portraits, Joseph Andrews,
and Parson Adams, and Lady Bellasis; Richardson reminds us of Lovelace,
and Grandison, and Clarissa; Scott, of Dandie Dinmont, Lucy Ashton,
Nicol Jarvie, Counsellor Pleydel, Dirck Hatteraick, Amy Robsart, and a
hundred other characters, who have become the familiar friends of genera-
tions of readers. But when we think of De Foe, it is to remember the
striking incidents which make up his stories, and to admire the vraisem-
blance with which his minute genius has invested them. Thus, then, he
stands wholly apart from the other illustrious names of English fiction,
occupying a field which—but for the labours of a recent follower, William
Gilbert—he would occupy alone.

 

An immense mass of criticism has been accumulated in reference to
*“ Robinson Crusoe ;”’ and as it is always interesting to observe how a fine
work of art is regarded by competent judges, I shall select from it a few
specimens. First, I propose to condense Sir Walter Scott’s admirable
remarks.

FROM SIR WALTER SCOTT.

The style of probability with which De Foe invested his narratives was
perhaps ill bestowed, or rather wasted, upon some of the works which he
thought proper to produce, and cannot recommend to us their subject ; but,
on the other hand, the same talent throws an air of truth about the delightful
history of “Robinson Crusoe,” which we never could have believed it pos-
sible to have united with so extraordinary a situation as is assigned to the
hero. All the usual scaffolding and machinery employed in composing
fictitious history are carefully discarded. The early incidents of the tale,
which in ordinary works of invention are usually thrown out as pegs to hang
the conclusion upon, are in this work only touched upon, and suffered to drop
82 SIR WALTER SCOTT’S CRITICISM

out of sight. Robinson, for example, never hears anything more of his elder
brother, who enters Lockhart’s Dragoons in the beginning of the work, and
who, in any common romance, would certainly have appeared before the
conclusion. We lose sight at once and for ever of the interesting Xury ;
and the whole earlier adventures of our voyager vanish, not to be recalled
to our recollection by the subsequent course of the story. His father—the
good old merchant of Hull—all the other persons who have been originally
active in the drama—vanish from the scene, and appear not again.

Our friend Robinson, thereafter, in the course of his roving and restless
life, is at length thrown upon his desert island—a situation in which, exist-
ing as a solitary being, he became an example of what the unassisted
energies of an individual of the human race can perform; and the author
has, with wonderful exactness, described him as acting and thinking pre-
cisely as such a man must have thought and acted in such an extra-
ordinary situation.

Pathos is not De Foe’s general characteristic; he had too little delicacy
of mind: when it comes, it comes uncalled, and is created by the circum-
stances, not sought for by the author. The excess, for instance. of the
natural longing for human society which Crusoe manifests while on board
of the stranded Spanish vessel, by falling into a sort of agony, as he repeated
the words, * Oh, that but one man had been saved !—oh, that there had
been but one!” is inthe highest degree pathetic. The agonizing reflections
of the solitary, when he is in danger of being driven to sea in his rash
attempt to circumnavigate his island, are also affecting.

In like manner we may remark, that De Foe’s genius did not approach
the grand or terrific. The battles, which he is fond of describing, are told
with the indifference of an old bucanier, and probably in the very way in
which he may have heard them recited by the actors. His goblins, too, are
generally a commonplace sort of spirits, that bring with them very little of
supernatural terror; and yet the fine incident of the print of the naked foot
on the sand, with Robinson Crusoe’s terrors in consequence, never fails to
leave a powerful impression upon the reader.

The supposed situation of his hero was peculiarly favourable to the cir-
cumstantial style of De Foe. Robinson Crusoe was placed in a condition
where it was natural that the slightest event should make an impression on
him; and De Foe was not an author who would leave the slightest event
untold. When he mentions that two shoes were driven ashore, and adds
that they were not neighbours, we feel it to be an incident of importance to
the solitary......

The continuation of Robinson Crusoe’s history, after’ he obtains the society
of his man Friday, is less philosophical than that which turns our thoughts
upon the efforts which a solitary individual may make for extending his
own comforts in the molancholy situation in which he is placed, and upon
the natural reflections suggested by the progress of his own mind. The
ON ‘ ROBINSON CRUSOE.” a3

character of Friday is, nevertheless, extremely pleasing; and the whole sub-

sequent history of the shipwrecked Spaniards and the pirate vessel is highly

interesting. Were certainly the ‘“‘ Memoirs of Robinson Crusoe” ought to

have stopped. The Second Part, though containing many passages which dis-
play the author’s genius, does not rise high in character above the ‘‘ Memoirs
of Captain Singleton,” or the other imaginary voyages of the author.

There scarce exists a work so popular as ‘“ Robinson Crusoe.” It is read
eagerly by young people; and there is hardly an elf so devoid of imagination
as not to have supposed for himself a solitary island in which he could act
* Robinson Crusoe,” were it but in the corner of the nursery. To many it
has given the decided turn of their lives, by sending them tosea. For the
young mind is much less struck with the hardships of the anchorite’s situa-
tion than with the animating exertions which he makes to overcome them ;
and ‘ Robinson Crusoe” produces the same impression upon an adventurous
spirit which the ‘“‘ Book of Martyrs” would do on a young devotee, or the
“ Newgate Calendar ” upon an acolyte of Bridewell—both of which students
are less terrified by the horrible manner in which the tale terminates, than
animated by sympathy with the saints or depredators who are the heroes of
their volume. Neither does a reperusal of “ Robinson Crusoe,” at a mora
advanced age, diminish our early impressions. The situation is such as
every man may make his own; and, being possible in itself, is, by the
exquisite art of the narrator, rendered as probable as it is interesting. It
has the merit, too, of that species of accurate painting which can be looked
at again and again with new pleasure.

Neither has the admiration of the work been confined to England, though
Robinson Crusoe himself—with his rough good sense, his prejudices, and
his obstinate determination not to sink under evils which can be surpassed
by exertion—forms no bad specimen of the “ True-born Englishman.” The
rage for imitating a work so popular seems to have risen to a degree of
frenzy ; and, by a mistake not peculiar to this particular class of the servum
pecus, the imitators did not attempt to apply De Foe’s manner of managing
the narrative to some situation of a different kind, but seized upon and cari-
catured the principal incidents of the shipwrecked mariner and the solitary
island. It is computed that within forty years from the appearance of the
original work, no less than forty-one different “ Robinsons ” appeared,
besides fifteen other imitations, in which other titles were used. Finally—
though, perhaps, it is no great recommendation—the anti-social philosopher
Rousseau will allow no other book than ‘‘ Robinson Crusoe” in the hands
of Emilius. Upon the whole, the work is as unlikely to lose its celebrity
as it is to be equalled in its peculiar character by any other of similar
excellence.

  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

The reader will not be displeased, perhaps, to see what Roussean’s opinion
veally was.
(284) 3
a4 CRITICISMS ON ‘“ ROBINSON CRUSOE.”

FROM ROUS

 

EAU.

Since we must have books, this is one which, in my opinion, is a most
excellent treatise on natural education. This is the first my Emilius shall
read; his whole library shall long consist of this work only, which shall
preserve an eminent rank to the very Jast. It shall be the text to which all
our conversations on natural science are to serve only as a comment. It
shall bea guide during our progress to maturity of judgment; and ao long
as our taste is not adulterated, the perusal of this book will afford us
pleasure. And what surprising book is this? Is if Aristotle? is it Pliny?
is it Buffon? No; it is * Robinson Crusoe.” The value and importance of the
various arts are ordinarily estimated, not according to their real utility, but
by the gratification which they administer to the fantastic desires of man-
kind. But Emilius shall be taught to view them in a different light:
* Robinson Crusoe ” shall teach him to value the stock of an ironmonger above
that of the most magnificent toy shop in Europe.

My third quotation is less extravagant in its eulogy, and therefore more
discriminating.* I believe it, moreover, to approach much nearer to a true
estimate of De Foe’s real merits. It is taken from a very able article on “ De

foe's Novels,” in the seventeenth volume of the “ Cornhill Magazine: —

FROM THE “ CORNHILL MAGAZINE,”

The horrors of abandonment on a desert island can be appreciated hy the
simplest sailor or schoolboy. The main thing is to bring out the situation
plainly and forcibly, to tell us of the difficulties of making pots and pans, of
eatching goats, and sowing corn, and of avoiding audacious cannibals. This
task De Foe performs with unequalled spirit and vivacity. In his first dis-
covery of a new art he shows the freshness so offen conspicuous in first
novels. The scenery w

 

 

just that which had peculiar charms for his fancy;
it was one of those half-true legends of which he had heard strange stories
from seafaring men, and possibly from the acquaintances of his hero himself.
dle brings out the shrewd, vigorous character of the Englishman thrown
upon his own resources, with evident enjoyment of his task. Indeed, De
Poe tells us himself that in Robinson Crusoe he saw a kind of allegory of his
own fate. He had suffered from solitude of soul. Confinement in his
prison is represented in the hook by confinement in an island; and even
particular incidents, such as the fright he receives one night from something
in his bed, “was word for word a history of what happened.” In other
words. this novel too, like many of the best ever written, has in if something
of the autobiographical element, which makes a man speak from greater
depths of feeling than in a purely imaginary story.

It would indeed be easy to show that the story, though in one sense

* We have considerably abridged the original
BY A RECENT WRITER, 35

marvellously like truth, is singularly wanting as a psychological study
Friday is no real savage, but a good English servant without plush. He
says ‘“ muchee”’ and “ speakee,” but he becomes at once a civilized being,
aud in his first conversation puzzles Crusoe terribly by that awkward
theological question, Why God did not kill the Devil; for, characteristically
enough, Crusoe’s first lesson includes a littke instruction upon the enemy of
mankind. Selkirk’s state of mind may be inferred from two or three facts. He
had almost forgotten how to talk; he had learned to catch goats by running
on foot; and he had acquired the exceedingly difficult art of making fire by
rubbing two sticks. In other words, his whole mind was absorbed in pro-
viding a few physical necessities, and he was rapidly becoming a savage ;
for a man who can't speak, and can make fire, is very near the Australian.
We may infer, what is probable from other cases, that a man living fifteen
years by himself, like Crusoe, would either go mad or sink into that semi-
savage state. De Foe really describes a man in prison, not in solitary con-
finement. We should not be so pedantic as to call for accuracy in such
matters; but the difference between the fiction and what we believe would
have been the reality is significant, De Foe, even in ‘‘ Robinson Crusoe,”
vives a yery inadequate picture of the mental torments to which his hero is
exposed, He is frightened by a parrot calling him by his name, and by the
strangely picturesque incident of the footmark on the sand; but, on the
whole, he takes his imprisonment with preternatural stolidity. His stay on
the island produces the same state of mind as might be due to a dull Sunday
in Scotland. For this reason—the want of power in describing emotion as
compared with the amazing power of describing facts—* Robinson Crusoe”
is a book for boys rather than for men; and, as Lamb says, rather for the
kitchen than for higher circles. It falls short of any high intellectual
interest. When we leave the striking situation, and get to the Second Part,
with the Spaniards and Will Atkins talking natural theology to his wife, it
sinks to the level of the secondary stories. But for people who are not too
proud to take a rather low order of amusement, ‘ Robinson Crusoe” will
always be one of the most charming of books We have the romantic and
adventurous incidents upon which the most unflinching realism can be set
to work without danger of vulgarity. Here is precisely the story suited to
De Foe’s strength and weakness. He is foreed to be artistic in spite of
himself. Tle cannot lose the thread of the narrative and break it into dis-
jointed fragments, for the limits of the island confine him as well as his
hero. He cannot tire us with details, for all the details of such a story
are interesting, It is made up of petty incidents as much as the life of a
prisoner reduced to taming flies, or making saws out of penknives. The
island does as well as the Bastille for making trifles valuable to the sufferer
and tous. The facts tell the story of themselves, without any demand for
romantic power to press them home to us; and the efforts to give an air of
withenticity to the story, which sometimes make us smile. and sometimes
86 BY W. CALDWELL ROSCOFK,

rather boro us in other novels, are all to the purpose; for there is a real
point in putting such a story in the mouth of the sufferer, and in giving us
for the time an illusory belief in his reality. When we add that the whole
book shows the freshness of a writer employed on his first novel—though at
the mature age of fifty-eight—secing in it an allegory of his own experiences
embodied in the scenes which most interested his imagination, we see some
reasons why “ Robinson Crusoe” should hold a distinct rank by itself
amongst his works.

To have pleased all the boys in Europe for nearly a hundred and fifty years
is, after all, a remarkable feat.

This, indeed, is the best panegyric that can be pronounced upon De Foe's
most celebrated fiction. It has been unapproached for a century and a half
as a boy’s book, and still holds its own in the face of a thousand competitors.
Of all its imitators, “ The Swiss Family Robinson” alone has drawn near to
it In popularity, though the two, so far as their literary character is con-
cerned, remain separated longo intervallo,

The following able estimate, by William Caldwell Roscoe,* will probably
be new to most of my readers :

 

FROM W. CALDWELL ROSCOE.

It would be to impugn the verdict of all mankind to say that ** Robinson
Crusoe” was not a great work of genius. It is a work of genius—a most
remarkable one—but of a low order of genius, ‘The universal admiration it
has obtained may be the admiration of men; but it is founded on the liking
of boys. Few educated men or women would care to read it for tho first
time after the age of five-and-twenty. Even Lamb could say it only * holds
its place by tough prescription.” Tho boy revels in it. It furnishes him
with food for his imagination in the very direction in which, of all others, it
loves to occupy itself. It is not that he cares for Robinson Crusoe—that
dull, ingenious, seafaring creature, with his strange mixture of cowardice
and boldness, his unleavened, coarsely sagacious, mechanic nature, his keen
trade-instincts, and his rude religious experiences. The boy becomes his
own Robinson Crusoe. It is little Tom Smith himself, curled up in a
remote corner of the playground, who makes those troublesome voyages on
the raft, and rejoices over the goods he saves from the wreck ; who contrives
his palisades and twisted cables to protect his cave; clothes himself so
quaintly in goat skins; is terrified at the savages; and rejoices in his
jurisdiction over the docile Friday, who, he thinks, would be better than a
dog, and almost as good as a pony. He does not care a farthing about
Crusoe as a separate person from himself. This is one reason why he
rejects the religious reflections as a strange and undesirable element in a
work otherwise so fascinating. He cannot enter into Crusoe’s sense of

* W. Caldwell Roscoe, ‘* Poems and Essays,” ii. 237, 238.
BY PROFESSOR MASSON. 8

wickedness, and docs not feel the least concern for his soul. If a grown
man reads the book in after years, it is to recall the sensations of youth, or
curiously to examine the secret of the unbounded popularity it has enjoyed.
How much this popularity is due to the happy choice of his subject, we may
better estimate when we remember that the popular “ Robinson Crusoe ”
is in reality only a part of tho work, and the work itself only one of many
others, not less well executed, from the same hand. No other man in the
world could have drawn so absolutely living a picture of the desert-island
life; but the same man has exercised the same power over more complex
incidents, and the works are little read.

Professor Masson looks upon De Foe as the founder of the modern Fiction
lle was a great reader, he says, and a tolerable scholar, and he may have
taken the hint of his method from the Spanish picaresque novel. On the
whole, however, it was his own robust sense of reality that led him to his
style. There is more of the sly humour of the foreign picaresque novel
(such as Gil Blas) in his representations of English ragamuffin life; there
is nothing of allegory, poetry, or even of didactic purpose; all is hard,
prosaic, and matter-of-fact, as in newspaper paragraphs, or the pages of the
“Newgate Calendar.” In reference to his greatest work of fiction, Pro-
fessor Masson adds :—*

FROM PROFESSOR MASSON.

It is a happy accident that the subject of one of his fictions, and that the
earliest on a great scale, was of a kind in treating which his genius in
matter-of-fact necessarily produced the effect of a poem. The conception of
a solitary mariner thrown on an uninhabited island was one as really
helonging to the fact of that time as those which formed the subject of De
Ioe’s less-read fictions of coarse English life. Dampier and the bucaniers
wero roving the South Seas; and there yet remained parts of the land-
surface of the Earth of which man had not taken possession, and on which
sailors were occasionally thrown adrift by the brutality of captains. Seizing
this text, more especially as offered in the story of Alexander Selkirk, De
Foe's matchless power of inventing circumstantial incidents made him more
a master even of its poetic capabilities than the rarest poet then living could
have been; and now that, all round our globe, there is not an unknown
island left, we still reserve in our mental charts one such island, with the
sea breaking round it, and we would part any day with two of the heroes
of antiquity rather than with Robinson Crusoe and his man Friday.

Our critical quotations shall] conclude with one from De Foe’s most brill
iant biographer :—t

* Masson, “‘ British Novelists and their Styles,” pp. 96-98.
* Forster, ‘Historical and Biographical Esrxy~,” ii. 94-96
38 BY MR. JOHN FORSTER.

FROM JOHN FORSTER.

“Robinson Crusoe” is a standard piece in every European language ; its
popularity has extended to every civilized nation. The traveller Burck-
hardt found it translated into Arabic, and heard it read aloud among the
wandering tribes in the cool hours of evening. It is devoured by every boy;
and, as long as a boy remains in the world, he will clamour for “ Robinson
Crusoe.” It sinks into the bosom while the bosom is most capable of plea-
surable impressions from the adventurous and the marvellous; and no
human work, we honestly believe, has afforded such great delight. Neither
the “ Iliad” nor the “ Odyssey,” in the much longer course of ages, has
incited so many to enterprise, or to reliance on their own powers and capa-
cities. It is the romance of solitude and self-sustainment ; and could only
so perfectly have been written by a man whose own life had for the most
part been passed in the independence of unaided thought, accustomed to creat
reverses, of inexhaustible resource in confronting calamities, leaning ever on
his Bible in sober and satisfied belief, and not afraid at any time to find
himself alone, in communion with nature and with God. Nor need we here
repeat, what has been said so well by many critics, that the secret of its
fascination is its reality. This, and the “ History of the Plague,” are the
masterpieces of De Foe. These are the works wherein his power is at the
highest, and which place him not less among the practical benefactors than
among the great writers of our race. “ Why, this man could have founded
a colony as well as governed it,” said a statesman of the succeeding century,
amazed at the knowledge of various kinds, and at the intimate acquaintance
with all useful arts displayed in “ Robinson Crusoe.”

Leaving the reader to compare and consider these criticisms, and to form
an opinion for himself, which will, I trust, be equally free from inordinate
praise and undue depreciation, I resume my narrative of De Foe’s labours.

The success of “ Robinson Crusoe” was immediate and unquestionable.
The second edition was published only seventeen days after the first; the
third edition, twenty-five days later ; and the fourth on the 8th of Aucust.

The mine which De Foe had thus opportunely discovered, he proceeded to
work with his accustomed vigour. On the 20th of August he published a
continuation of his immortal fiction, under the title of The Farther Adven-
tures of Robinson Crusoe ; being the Second and Last Part of his Life, and
of the Strange Surprizing Accounts of his Travels round Three Parts of
the Globe.”

In the preface to this sequel—which like most sequels is inferior in inter-
est and literary merit to the preceding part, though many passages are
admirably conceived and carried out—he pretends, as before, to be only the
editor of Crusoe’s story, and alludes with apparent impartiality to its well
deserved good fortune. As a spécimen of his quiet matter-of-fact style, it
deserves quotation :—
 

 

DE FOR AS A PREFACE WRITER. 89
“The success the former parce as Se a ee
part of this work has met | THE FARTHER |
within the world, has yet
been no other than is ac- A D V E N IT U R E S

knowledged to be due to

the surprising variety of ROB INSO Nr CR US OF:

Slt
the subject, and to the ; \ |
agreeable manner of the Being the Second and Laft Parc
performance. All the en- Or HIS

deavours of envious people

to reproach it with being L I fk k,

a romance, to search it for

errors in geography, in- And of tht Strance Sunsaszine
consistency in the rela- i : |
Oe ae Soe «| WAGE NINS Ohms: Dore ayo r us
tion, and contradictions in 1
the fact, have proved abor- Round dhree Parts ef the Globe.

tive, and as impudent as
malicious. The just ap-  «
plication of every incident,

ale j sef' Jo which is 2dded » Map of the World, in which is
the religious and useful Delineated the Voyages uf ROBINSON CRUSOE.

 

DE vitten by Himfelf.

 

inferences drawn from
every part, are so many
testimonies to the good
design of making it pub-
lic, and must legitimate
all the part that may
be called invention, or
parable, in the story. The LONDON: Printed fae W. Larcor ar the

Second Part, if the editor’s Sip in Farer-Nofler ees

 

 

 

 

opinion may pass, is (con-

trary to the usage of REDUCED FAC-SIMILE OF TITLE PAGE TO VOL. LL. OF THE
second parts) every way FIRST EDITION OF ‘‘ LOBINSON CRUBOE.”

as entertaining as the First, contains as strange and surprizing incidents.
and as great a variety of them; nor is the application less serious, or
suitable; and doubtless will, to the sober, as well as ingenious reader,
be everyway as profitable and diverting. And this makes the abridging
this work * as scandalous as it is knavish and ridiculous, seeing, while
to shorten the book, that they may seem to reduce the value, they strip
it of all those reflections, as well religious as moral, which are not only
the greatest beauties of the work, but are calculated for the infinite
advantage of the reader. By this they leave the work naked of ite
brightest ornaments; and if they would, at the same time, pretend that

* An abridgment had been published by a bookseller named Cox.—See Lee’s “‘ Life
of Daniel De Foe,” i. 298.
40 INFERIORITY OF THE SEQUEL.

the author had supplied the story out of his invention, they take from it the
improvement which alone recommends that invention to wise and good
men. ‘he injury these men do the proprietor of this work is a practice all
honest men abhor; and he believes he may challenge them to show the
difference between that and robbing on the highway, or breaking open a
house. If they can’t show any difference in the crime, they will find it
hard to show any difference in the punishment. And he will answer for it
that nothing shall be wanting on his part to do them justice.”

Notwithstanding this ingenious pleading, the public fully understood that
De Foe, and De Foe alone, was the author and “ inventor” of “ Robinson
Crusoe,” whose popularity becameso extensive thata Tory pamphleteer, named
Gildon, availed himself of it to secure a reception for his scurrilous attack
on De Foe: ‘The Life and Strange Surprizing Adventures of Mr. D De
F. , of London, Hosier, who has lived above fifty years by himself, in the
Kingdoms of North and South Britain. The various Shapes he has appeared
in, and the Discoveries he has made for the Benefit of his Country. In a
Dialogue between Him, Robinson Crusoe, and his Man Friday. With
remarks, Serious and Comical, upon the Life of Crusoe.” But neither
Gildon nor any other assailant could prevent the public from reading and
admiring the narrative of the Solitary in his island fastness, and his later ad-
ventures in many lands; and its reception continued to be so enthusiastic that
De Foe ventured, in August 1720, on once more appearing before the public
under the old familiar colours, drawing, as it were, the moral to the story, in
a book which he entitled “ Serious Reflections during the Life and Surpris-
ing Adventures of Robinson Crusoe: With his Vision of the Angelick World.”

As the second part was inferior to the first, so was the third inferior to the
second ; and it has so entirely dropped out of public favour that I believe to
most readers of ‘ Robinson Crusoe”’ its existence is wholly unknown. A
recent biographer asserts that “ it contains profound thought, great wisdom,
morality of the highest character, an extensive acquaintance with metaphysi-
cal subtleties, and is pervaded with a solemn tone of religious instruction,
doctrinal and practical.” I confess that my estimate of it is not so high.
I admit its devout and earnest tone; but in a work of this kind, De Foe’s
plain, homely, matter-of-fact style palls upon the reader; and as his reflec-
tions are neither very deep nor very broad, and do not come to us recom-
mended by any beauty of imagery or subtlety of fancy, I cannot but think the
third part of ‘‘ Robinson Crusoe” very dreary reading.

In October 1719, De Foe published ‘The Dumb Philosopher; or, Great
Britain’s Wonder,’’—an account of an ideal Cornishman, one Dickory Cronke,
who ‘was born dumb, and continued so for fifty-eight years.” The subject
seems to have had a peculiar attraction for our author, since, in 1720, he
came before the public with the ‘‘ History of the Life and Adventures of Mr.
Duncan Campbell;” who, however, was not only dumb but deaf. It was
founded on the career of a celebrated fortune-teller of the time, who laid

 

 
‘“ MEMOIRS OF A CAVALIER.” 4l

claim to the faculty of
second-sight, and was un-

doubtedly a man of great Serious Reflections

natural talents.

In the same year De DURING THE

Foe produced his second
great novel—in some re-

spects superior to “ Rob- And Surprifing

inson Crusoe” itself, but
ADVENTURES
OF

 

inferior in plot, scenery,
and motive. I refer to
the book which imposed
on the great Earl of Chat-
ham as an authentic his-
torical narrative : * “ Me-
moirs of a Cavalier; or, a
Military Journal of the

'
\
i
Wars in Germany, and 4

Rosinson Crusoe:

| WITH HIS

Ved Saou

ier:

the Wars in England ; Angelich WO = L D.

from the year 1632 to the

year 1648. Written,” con-

tinues De Foe, who was

partial to lengthy title-

pages, ‘“‘ Threescore Years

ago by an English Gentle-

man, who served first in

the Army of Gustavus

Adolphus, the glorious bs
|
1

 

LONDON: : Printed for W. Te ror, at the Ship
and Black Swan in Pater-nufter-Row. 1720.

King of Sweden, till his
death; and after that, in
the Royal Army of King '—__ i
Charles the First, from the

 

- REDUCED FAC-SIMILE OF TITLE PAGE TO VOL. III. OF
Beginning of the Rebellion THE FIRST EDITION OF “‘ ROBINSON CRUSOE.”
to the End of that War.”

These “ Memoirs ” furnish the reader with one of the most spirited Nar-
ratives of the Great Civil War which our language possesses. It exhibits
all De Foe’s characteristic excellences, and few of his defects ; and its sub-
ject lifts it out of that low atmosphere of thieves and harlots in which too
many of his secondary fictions are plunged. Its chief and most obvious
deficiency is in its style. De Foe does not write as a well-bred and well-
born Cavalier would have written. Nevertheless, it is full of fire and spirit,

* Mr. Lee is of opinion that it was actually founded on a genuine manuscript memoir;

but in this he is opposed to our ablest critics. His reasons in support of its authenticity
would equally well apply to the authenticity of ‘“‘ Robinson Crusoe ”
42 DE FUOE’S SECONDARY NOVELS,

and, as Scott suggests, is probably enriched with anecdotes whieh De Foe
had heard from the lips of greybeards who had themselves been ‘ out ” in
the Great Rebellion.

Such a work might well be supposed sutticient for one twelvemonth’s toil;
but De Foe’s fertility was as inexhaustible as his industry, and the same
year which produced the ** Memoirs of a Cavalier,’ also gave birth to the
** Life, Adventures, and Pyracies of the famous Captain Singleton ;"* a book
which is perfectly wonderful in the minute knowledge it displays of the
geography of Central Africa, and the manner in which it positively anti-
cipates some of the discoveries of Baker, Speke, and Livingstone.

I shall notice in quick succession the later novels of our author.

On the 27th of January, 1722, appeared “The Fortunes and Misfortunes
of the Famous Moll Flanders. Written from her own Memorandums.”

On the 17th of March was produced “A Journal of the Plague Year:
Being Observations or Memorials of the most Remarkable Occurrences, as
well Publick as Private, which happened in London during the last Great
Visitation in 1665. Written by a Citizen who continued all the while in
London. Never made public before.”

The “ Journal” is full of ghastly pictures. which are almost horrible in
their photographic fidelity; a fidelity so conspicuous and so remarkable
that it induced the eminent physician Dr. Mead to refer to De Foe's ficti-
tious narrative as to av authority of weight. It exhibits his marvellous
realistic art in its utmost perfection; and, even at the present day, cannot
be read without interest.

Ranking “ Robinson Crusoe ’’ as its author’s greatest work of fiction, and
his *‘ Memoirs of a Cavalier” as second in merit, I cannot but ascribe the
third place to the ‘ Life of Colonel Jack,”t which appeared in December
1722. and which dealt with the career of a male criminal, as “ Moll Flanders"
had dealt with that ofa female. The value of what has been emphatically
called Thieves’ Literature may reasonably be doubted, and I question much
whether any work of this class has morally benefited a single reader. Yet
it must be admitted that De Foe, unlike many of our modern novelists,
always paints vice as it is—in all its filth and all its degradation—and

* The full title runs :—‘‘ The Life, Adventures, and Pyracies of the famous Captain
Singleton: Containing an Account of his being set on Shore in the Island of Madagascar,
his Settlement there, with a Description of the Place and Inhabitants: Of his Passage
from thence in a Paraguay (periaywa) to the main Land of Africa, with an Account of the
Customs and Manners of the People. His great Deliverances from the barbarous Natives
and Wild Beasts : Of his Meeting with an Englishman, a Citizen of London, among the
Indians, the great Riches he acquired, and his Voyage Home to England: As also Cap-
tain Singleton’s Return to Sea, with an Account of his many Adventures and Pyracies
with the famous Captain Avery and Others. London: J. Brotherton, &c. 1720.”

t The full title runs:—“‘ The History and Remarkable Life of the Truly Honourable
Colonel Jacque, vulgarly called Colonel Jack; who was Born a Gentleman, put ’Pren-
tice to a Pickpocket, was Six and Twenty Years a Thief, and then Kidnapp’d to Vir-
ginia. Came back a Merchant; went into the Wars, behav'd bravely, got Preferment.;

was made a Colonel of a Regiment; came over, and fled with, the Chevalier; is still
abroad compleating a Life of Wonders, and resolves to dye a General. London. 1722”
CHARLES LAMB'S CRITICISM. 42

without any attempt to disguise it, or to render it attractive by meretricious
colouring. For the rest, the fiction to which I am alluding contains some
of its author’s finest touches; is instinct in many passages with a very
powerful pathos; and everywhere exhibits an extraordinary knowledge of
humanity.

The last of De Foe’s novels appeared in March 1724, under the title of
~The Fortunate Mistress: or, a History of the Life and Vast Variety of
Fortunes of Mademoiselle de’ Belau; afterwards called the Countess of
Windelsheim in Germany. Being the Person known by the name of the
Lady Roxana, in the Time of King Charles II.’ This story of the life of
un abandoned woman is doubtlessly written in all honesty of purpose; but
assuredly it is not the hook a father would put into the hands of his
daughters, and again I doubt whether such a method of attacking vice is
ever successful.

All that can be said of the secondary fictions of De Foe has, however, been
said with excellent force and humour by Charles Lamb ;* and his defence
of them I may leave to the consideration of my readers :—

FROM CHARLES LAMB.

The narrative manner of De Foe has a naturalness about it beyond that
of any other novel or romance writer. His fictions have all the air of true
stories. It is impossible to believe, while you are reading them, that a real
person is not narrating to you everywhere nothing but what really happened
to himself. ‘lo this the extreme homediness of their style mainly contributes.
We use the word in its best and heartiest sense—that which comes home to
the reader. The narrators everywhere are chosen from low life, or have had
their origin in it; therefore they tell their own tales, as persons in their
degree are observed to do, with infinite repetition, and an overacted exact-
ness, lest the hearer should not have minded, or have forgotten, some things
that had been told before...... The heroes and heroines of De Foe can never
again hope to be popular with a much higher class of readers than that of
the servant-maid or the sailor. Crusoe keeps its rank only by tough pre-
scription, Singleton, the pirate; Colonel Jack, the thief; Moll Flandcrs,
both thief and harlot; Roxana, harlot, and somethiny worse—would be
startling ingredients in the bill of fare of modern literary delicacies.— But,
then, what pirates, what thieves, and what harlots, is the thief, the harlot,
and the pirate of De Foe! We would not hesitate to say, that in no other
hook of fiction, where the lives of such characters are described, is guilt
and delinquency made less seductive, or the suffering made more closely tc
follow the commission, or the penitence more earnest or more bleeding, or
the intervening flashes of religious visitation upon the rude and uninstructed
soul more meltingly and fearfully painted.

* Charles Lamb, “ Eliana”: De Foe’s Secondary Novels.
1 It must be remembered that Charles Lamb wrote before English literature had been
enriched (?) with ‘‘sensational novels.”
CHAPTER LV.

LAST YEARS AND DEATIE.

   

a Sg. ae has see been pie os onted oe De Foe’s biogr: Saas that his

ae of Acne. Others, aeea: ane gone ee further
Admitting that he wrote but little, politically, after the fall of his
patron Harley, they have asserted that what he déd write was
in open contradiction of the principles he had formerly espoused, and that
he, the great Whig pamphletcer, wrote Tory pamphlets for Tory money.

Mr. Leo, however, has recently proved two important facts: first, that
De Foe continued to labour as a politician whilo busiest as & novelist; and
that, second, he was still in the service of, and remunerated by, the King’s
Government. His position was a curious one: he was paid by the Ministry
to write in the Tory papers—more particularly in the so-called Afist’s
Journal—and to write in them, not in avowed advocacy of Government
measures, yet, as it were, in mitigation and defence of them. It must be
owned that this was an ingenious method of turning an enemy’s arms
against himself, but it cannot be considered altogether worthy of a man of
honour and sincerity.

The following account of this curious transaction is given by Mr. Lec.*
who founds it upon letters written by De Foe himself :—

De Foe says, that with the approbation of Lord Sunderland, one of the
Whig Ministry, he introduced himself to the proprietor of Mist's Journal,
with the view of keeping it in the circle of a secret. management, so that it
might pass as a Tory paper, and yet be disabled and enervated of its trea-
sonable character, ‘so as to do no mischief, or give any offence to the
Government.” De Foe had no share in the property of this paper, and had
therefore no absolute power to reject improper communications; but he
trusted to the moral influence he should be able to acquire and maintain
over Mist, the proprietor, who had no suspicion that the Government was
indirectly concerned in the matter. This Journal was the organ of the Pre-
tender’s interest, and, according to De Foe, its correspondents and supporters
* Lee, “‘ Life of Daniel De Foc,” i. 271, 272
 

A DOUBTFUL POSITION. 45

were, he tells us, Papists, and Jacobites, and High Tories—‘ a generation
whom, I profess, my very soul abhors.”’ In the performance of his peculiar
and delicate task he was compelled to hear traitorous outbursts against the
King and Government, and to receive “scandalous and villanous papers,’
keeping them by him—ostensibly for the purpose of gathering materials, but
really with a view to their total suppression.

In Mr. Lee’s opinion this was no ‘system of espionage ;’’ but I confesa
it seems to me something closely resembling it, and I could wish De Foe
had never been involved in, still less had originated, a scheme so questionable
and, moreover, of such doubtful advantage.

I continue, however, to quote Mr. Lee's defence :—

The rebellion (of 1715-16) was yet smouldering, though subdued ; and
tho laws, liberties, and religion of the country were threatened. This weekly
journal, inspired from the Court of the Pretender, and supported by the
money and intelligence of attainted nobles abroad, and their adherents at
home, had laboured to keep alive the spirit of treason until circumstances
should be favourable for again spreading the flames of rebellion through the
land. If, therefore, moral persuasion is more effectual than legal repression,
and prevention better than cure, then no stigma, beyond that of concealment,
attaches to the character of De Foe on account of his connection with JJzst’s
Journal, Rather should we admire the intellectual power capable of hold-
ing in check such men as Ormond, Atterbury, Bolingbroke,* Mar, Wharton,
and their satellites, among the Jacobite and Nonjuring writers. It required
a large amount of patriotic courage to place himself as an impassable barrier
between the invectives of such men and the reading public; and no lese
reservation and tact in exercising this influence in such a manner as to
avoid suspicion. He closes one of his letters with a favourite expression
from Scripture, frequeatly cited in his writings, showing the sensitiveness
of his mind, even as to the concealment necessary to the efficient service of
his country. His words evince that he was conscious of the danger and
difficulties of his duties; and also that his position was a questionable one ;
-—but there is no invidious self-reflection involved when he says: “ Thus
I bow myself in the house of Rimmon, and most humbly recommend myself
to his lordship’s protection, or I may be undone the sooner, by how much
the more faithfully I execute the commands I am under.”

De Foe’s connection with Jfist’s Journal commenced in 1717, and continued,
with various interruptions, until 1724. During this period he also mingled
in the political méléo as proprietor and conductor of The Whitehall Evening
Post. From 1719 to 1725 he was connected with the Daily Post,+ while his
fertile pen not only produced the works of fiction whose characteristics we
have been examining, throughout this busy period. hut, with ceaseless in-

* But could such men as these have been hoodwinked, even by De Foe? ;
+ Also with Applebie’s Original Weekly Jowrnal, 1720 to 1726; and The Director
1720,
46 DE FOR’S LATEST WORKS.

dustry and extraordinary spirit, dealt with things human and divine in a
variety of manuals, treatises, and essays.

Among these it is especially desirable we should notice a rhymed transla-
tion of Du Fresnoy’s “ Compleat Art of Painting,” published in 1720; “ Re-
gious Courtship : being Historical Discourses on the Necessity of Marrying
Religions Husbands and Wives only,” 1722; “The Life and Actions of
Lewis Dominique Cartouche,” a notorious French desperado, 1722;* ‘An
Impartial History of the Life and Actions of Peter Alexowitz, Czar of Mus-
covy,” 1723;* “The Highland Rogue, or the Memorable Actions of the
Celebrated Robert Macgregor; commonly called Rob Roy,” 1728;* “A
Tour Thro’ the whole Island of Great Britain "—a book full of lively ob-
servation and accurate description, the result of journeys undertaken by the
author in 1724-1726 ; “A New Voyage Round the World,” 1725; ‘ The
Compleat English Tradesman,” 2 vols., 1725-1727—an excellent manual,
containing many shrowd reflections, and much yaluable counsel for the
young beginner; The Political History of the Devil,’ 1726; “A System
af Magick; or, a History of the Black Art,” 1726: “The Secrets of the
Invisible World Disclosed ; or, an Universal History of Apparitions, Sacred
and Profane, under all Denominations,” 1728; “ A New Family Instructor:
in Familiar Discourses between a Father and his Children, on the most
Essential Points of the Christian Religion ’—a book whose every page is
illustrative of De Foe's manly and unaffected religious sentiments; and
“The Compleat English Gentleman ’’—a tractate on education, which, like
everything that De Foe wrote, is instinct with good sense, and which, with
the exception of a small pamphlet on “Street Robberies,” terminated his long
and multifarious literary Jabours.

Of his industry the reader may judge from the fact that a complete list of
his works enumerates no less than 254; of his versatility, the varied sub-
Jects of those to which we have more particularly alluded is a satisfactory
proof,

On the whole, De Foe's career was a successful one. He met with great
trials, but he had also great rewards. It is true that he was twice bankrupt,
but his first misfortune was due to his own imprudence in attempting to
combine the politician with the man of business. His second was owing to
the severe sentence passed upon him at the instigation of a vindictive
Government; but then, it must be acknowledged, that he had provoked its
wrath hy a satire of more than ordinary bitterness. He elected to plunge
into the stormy sea of politics, and if ho occasionally met with a terrible
buffeting, he did but pay the penalty of his deliberate choice. In many of
his views he was in advance of his age, and, accordingly, he was not always
popular: but a man who enjoyed the confidence of King William and Queen
Anne, of Harley and Godolphin, of Sunderland and ‘Yownshend; whose

* These are ascribed to De Foe by Mr. Lee.
t Including those recently attributed to him by Mr. Lee.
HIS LAST YEARS AND DEATH. 4

assistance was thought so valuable that it was regularly retained by the
Government ; whose books commanded a large and ready sale; who could
dower his daughters at their marriage, could purchase land, and build for
himself a “ handsome house ;’’"—such a man cannot surely be considered an
example of the ill-fortune that sometimes assails the politician and the
littérateur. Political opponents Joaded him with calumny and abuse; but
De Foe lived in times when “ hard hitting’ was the rule, and not the excep-
tion, when no such standard of courtesy was recognized by political writers
as common consent of late years has established. We think, therefore, that
the pity poured out upon De Foe by sentimental biographers is, to a great
extent, unnecessary ; and we believe that his life affords a favourable ex-
ample of the success which attends unflagging industry, indefatigable per-
severance, and honourable consistency.

One bitter sorrow, indeed, overclouded the later years of this great-hearted
man, but that came from within, not from without—from his own family
hearth, and not from his political foes. The misconduct of his second son
was a thorn in his side which wounded deeply. His father had placed large
confidence in him; he violated it; and by violating it temporarily deprived
his mother and sisters of considerable resources. The evil was magnified
by the timidity and apprehension natural to old age, and De Foe wrote
of it in exaggerated language :—‘ 1 depended upon him, I trusted him, I
gave up my two dear unprovided children into his hands: but he has no
compassion, and suffers them and their poor dear dying mother [she out-
lived her husband some eighteen months] to beg their bread at his door
and to crave, as if it were an alms, what he is bound, under hand and seal,
besides the most sacred promises, to supply them with; himself, at the same
time, living in a profusion of plenty.”

The money, however, was recovered, and De Foe's family left in comfortable
circumstances.

Our brief summary of a life of action must here conclude. We have traced
the politician and the man of letters through the chief phases of his history,
to that “ final limit” where all labour, and sorrow, and disappointment end.
Towards the close of the year 1780 he removed from his house at Stoke New-
ington, “ a commodious mansion in about four acres of ground,” to London,
and took lodgings in what was then a pleasant and reputable locality, Rope-
maker's Alley, Moorfields. ere he died of a lethargy, on the evening of
Monday, ihe 26th of April 1781, in the seventy-first year of his age. He
was buried in Bunhill Fields, where his tomb will ever be regarded with
interest by all admirers of manly genius and incorruptible integrity.

W.H. D. A.
48 BIOGRAVPHL{CAL AUTHORITLES

AUTHORITIES.

The principal authorities in reference to the Jive of Dre For are :

“Daniel De Foe: His Life, and Hitherto Unknown Writings,” by Willian Lee, 8 vols
1869.

“ Historical and Biographical Essays,” by John Forster, vol. ii

“Novels and Miscellaneous Wor

“Miscellaneous Prose Works: Life of Daniel De Foe,
published by Cadell, 1847.

“De Foe’s Works,” with Life by Chalmers, 1820.
"with Life by Roscoe, 1831.
“Memoirs of the Life and Times of Daniel De Foe,” by Walter Wilson, 3 vols., 1830
“De Foe’s Works,” with Memoir by William Maztitt, 3 vals 5 1S40 43

 

of De Foe,” 20 vols., Oxford,
” edited by Sir Walter Secti

   

“Robinson Crusoe,’

 

TOME OF DE FOR TIN BUNHILL FIELDS.

{Norr. — A monument to De Foe, erected, by the voluntary subscriptions of seventeen
bundred English boys and girls, in Bunhill-fields burial-ground, was ‘‘ unveiled” by Mr.
Charles Reed, M.P. for Hackney, on Friday, September 16, 1870 It consists of an
Egyptian column of fine Italian marble, 17 feet high, and at the l-ase 8 feet by 4 feet
The sculptor is Mr. Horner, of Bournemouth. The pillar bears the following inserip

Hon:—*' Daniel De Foe. Lorn 1661, died 1731. Author of ‘ Robinson Crusoe.’ ”]
 

 

 

MAP OF ROBINSON CHUSUE S ISLAND.

via Reflections "(ur grd Party, puviished by W. Taylor in 27204 ie

     
 
THE

Hite and Adbentures

OF

ROBINSON Cisse k:

An isle....

Rich, but the loneliest in a lonely sea.
No want was there of human sustenance,
Soft fruitage, mighty nuts, and nourishing roots ;
Nor save for pity was it hard to take
The helpless life so wild that it was tame.
There in a seaward-gazing mountain gorge
‘He’ built, and thatched with leaves of palm, a hut,
Half hut, half native cavern.
TENNYSON

Part THE Pf IRST.

 
THE

Lite and Adventures

OF

ROBINSON CRUSORK.

An isle....

Rich, but the loneliest in a lonely sea.
No want was there of human sustenance,
Soft fruitage, mighty nuts, and nourishixrg roots ;
Nor save for pity was it hard to take
The helpless life so wild that it was tame.
There in a seaward-gazing mountain gorge
‘He’ built, and thatched with leaves of palm, a hut,
Half hut, half native cavern.
TENNYSON

Part THE FURST.
ROBINSON CRUSOK

 

   

Ca Oi - Cs

WAS born in the year 1682, in the city
of York, of a good family, though not of
that country, my father being a foreigner
of Bremen, who settled first at Hull: he
i got a good estate by merchandise, and

3H leaving off his trade, lived afterward at
York, from whence he had married my mother, whose relations
were named Robinson, a very good family in that country, and
52 A ROVING DISPOSITION,

from whom IJ was called Robinson Kreutznaer; but, by the usual
corruption of words in England, we are now called, nay, we call
ourselves, and write our name Crusoe, and so my companions
always called me.

I had two elder brothers, one of which was lieutenant-colonel
to an English regiment of foot in Flanders, formerly commanded
hy the famous Colonel Lockhart, and was killed at the battle near
Dunkirk against the Spaniards: what became of my second brother
I never knew, any more than my father and mother did know what
was become of me.

Being the third son of the family, and not bred to any trade,
my head began to be filled very early with rambling thoughts.
My father, who was very ancient, had given me a competent share
of learning, as far as house education and a country free school
generally goes, and designed me for the law; but 1 would be satis-
fied with nothing but going to sea, and my inclination to this led
me so strongly against the will, nay, the commands of my father,
and against all the entreaties and persuasions of my mother and
other friends, that there seemed to be something fatal in that pro-
pension of nature tending directly to the life of misery which was
to befall me.

My father, a wise and grave man, gave me serious ard excellent
counsel against what he foresaw was my design. He called me
one morning into his chamber, where he was confined by the gout,
and expostulated very warmly with me upon this subject. He
asked me what reasons more than a mere wandering inclination I
had for leaving my father’s house and my native country, where I
might be well introduced, and had a prospect of raising my for
tunes by application and industry, with a life of ease and pleasure.
He told me it was for men of desperate fortunes on one hand, or
of aspiring, superior fortunes on the other, who went abroad upon
adventures, to rise by enterprise, and make themselves famous in
undertakings of a nature out of the common road; that these
things were all either too far above me, or too far below me; that
mine was the middle state, or what might be called the upper
station of low life, which he had found by long experience was the
best state in the world, the most suited to human happiness, not
WISE WORDS AND SAGE COUNSEL. 53

 

 

 

 

 

“SY FATHER GAVE ME SERIOUS AND EXCELLENT COUNSEL.”

exposed to the miseries and hardships, the labour and sufferings of
the mechanic part of mankind, and not embarrassed with the pride,
luxury, ambition, and envy of the upper part of mankind, He
told me I might judge of the happiness of this state by this one
thing—namely, that this was the state of life which all other people
envied; that kings have frequently lamented the miserable con-
sequences of being born to great things, and wished they had been
placed in the middle of the two extremes,—between the mean and
the great; that the wise man gave his testimony to this as the just
standard of true felicity, when he prayed to have neither poverty
nor riches,

He bid me observe it, and I should always find that the calami-
ties of life were shared among the upper and lower part of
mankind; but that the middle station had the fewest disasters,
and was not exposed to so many vicissitudes as the higher or lower
part of mankind; nay, they were not subjected to so many dis
54 A FATHER’S EXPOSTULATION,

tempers and uneasinesses either of body or mind, as those were
who, by vicious living, luxury, and extravagancies on one hand.
or by hard labour, want of necessaries, and mean or insufficient
diet on the other hand, bring distempers upon themselves by the
natural consequences of their way of living; that the middle
station of life was calculated for all kind of virtues and all kind of
enjoyments; that peace and plenty were the handmaids of a
middle fortune; that temperance, moderation, quietness, health,
society, all agreeable diversions, and all desirable pleasures, were
the blessings attending the middle station of life; that this way
men went silently and smoothly through the world, and comfort-
ably out of it, not embarrassed with the labours of the hands or of
the head, not sold to the life of slavery for daily bread, or harassed
with perplexed circumstances, which rob the soul of peace and
the body of rest; not enraged with the passion of envy, or secret
burning lust of ambition for great things; but in easy circum-
stances sliding gently through the world, and sensibly tasting the
sweets of living, without the bitter; fecling that they are happy
and learning by every day’s experience to know it more sensibly.

After this, he pressed me earnestly, and in the most affectionate
manner, not to play the young man, not to precipitate myself into
miseries which nature and the station of life I was born in seemed

?

to have provided against; that I was under no necessity of seck-
ing my bread; that he would do well for me, and endeavour to
enter me fairly into the station of life which he had been just
recommending to me; and that if IT was not very easy and happy
in the world, it must be my mere fate or fault that must hinder
it, and that he should have nothing to answer for, having thus
discharged his duty in warning me against measures which he
knew would be to my hurt. Ina word, that as he would do very
kind things for me if I would stay and settle at home as he
directed, so he would not have so much hand in my misfortunes,
as to give me any encouragement to go away. And, to close all,
he told me I had my elder brother for an example, to whom h:
nad used the same earnest persuasions to keep him from going
into the Low Country wars, but could not prevail, his young
desires prompting him to run into the army, where he was killed;
CRUSOE AND HIS MOTHER. 5E

and though, he said, he would not cease to pray for me, yet he
would venture to say to me that, if I did take this foolish step, God
would not bless me, and I would have leisure hereafter to reflect
upon having neglected his counsel when there might be none to
assist in my recovery.

I observed in this last part of his discourse, which was truly
prophetic, though I suppose my father did not know it to be so
himself, I say I saw the tears run down his face very plentifully,
and especially when he spoke of my brother who was killed; and
that when he spoke of my having leisure to repent, and none to
assist me, he was so moved that he broke off the discourse, and
told me his heart was so full he could say no more to me.

I was sincerely affected with this discourse—as indeed who could
be otherwise ?— and I resolved not to think of going abroad any
more, but to settle at home according to my father’s desire. But,
alas! a few days wore it all off; and, in short, to prevent any of
my father’s further importunities, in a few weeks after I resolved
to run quite away from him. However, I did not act so hastily
neither as my first heat of resolution prompted; but I took my
mother, at a time when I thought her a little pleasanter than
ordinary, and told her that my thoughts were so entirely bent
upon seeing the world, that I should never settle to anything with
resolution enough to go through with it, and my father had better
give me his consent than force me to go without it; that I was
now eighteen years old, which was too late to go apprentice to a
trade, or clerk to an attorney; that I was sure if I did, I should
never serve out my time, and I should certainly run away from
my master before my time was out, and go to sea; and if she
would speak to my father to let me go but one voyage abroad, if
[ came home again and did not like it, I would go no more, and I
would promise by a double diligence to recover that time I had
lost.

This put my mother into a great passion. She told me she
knew it would be to no purpose to speak to my father upon any
such subject; that he knew too well what was my interest to give
his consent to anything so much for my hurt, and that she
wondered how I could think of any such thing, after such s
56 CRUSOE GOES TO SEA.

discourse as 1 had had with my father, and such kind and tenda
expressions as she knew my father had used to me; and that, in
short, if I would ruin myself, there was no help for me; but I
might depend I should never have their consent to it. That, for
her part, she would not have so much hand in my destruction;
and I should never have it to say that my mother was willing
when my father was not.

Though my mother refused to move it to my father, yet, as I
have heard afterwards, she reported all the discourse to him, and
that my father, after showing a great concern at it, said to her
with a sigh,—“ That boy might be happy if he would stay at
home; but if he goes abroad he will be the miserablest wretch
that was ever born. I can give no consent to it.”’

It was not till almost a year after this that I broke loose,
though in the meantime I continued obstinately deaf to all pro-
posals of settling to business, and frequently expostulating with
my father and mother about their being so positively determined
against what they knew my inclinations prompted me to. But
being one day at Hull, where I went casually, and without any
purpose of making an elopement that time; but, I say, being
there, and one of my companions being going by sea to London
in his father’s ship, and prompting me to go with them, with the
common allurement of seafaring men—namely, that it should cost
me nothing for my passage—I consulted neither father nor mother
any more, nor so much as sent them word of it; but leaving them
to hear of it as they might, without asking God’s blessing, or my
father’s; without any consideration of circumstances or conse-
quences, and in an ill hour, God knows, on the Ist of September
1651, I went on board a ship bound for London. Never any young
adventurer’s misfortunes, I believe, began sooner, or continued
longer than mine. The ship was no sooner gotten out of the
Humber but the wind began to blow, and the waves to rise in a
most frightful manner; and, as I had never been at sea before, I
was most inexpressibly sick in body, and terrified in my mind. I
began now seriously to reflect upon what I had done, and how
justly I was overtaken by the judgment of Heaven for my wicked
leaving my father’s house, and abandoning my duty; all the good
SICK IN MIND AND Bopy, 5%

 

 

 

1 WAS MOST INEXPRESSIBLY SICK IN BODY.”

counsel of my parents, my father’s tears and my mother’s entrea-
ties, came now fresh into my mind; and my conscience, which
was not yet come to the pitch of hardness to which it has been
since, reproached me with the contempt of advice, and the breach
of my duty to God and my father.

All this while the storm increased, and the sea, which I had
never been upon before, went very high, though nothing like
58 A CAPFUL OF WIND.

what I have secn many times since; no, nor like what I saw
a few days after. But it was enough to affect me then, who
was but a young sailor, and had never known anything of the
matter. I expected every wave would have swallowed us.up, and
that every time the ship fell down, as I thought, in the trough or
hollow of the sea, we should never rise more; and in this agony
of mind I made many vows and resolutions, that if it would please
God here to spare my life this one voyage, if ever I got once my
foot upon dry land again, I would go directly home to my father,
and never set it into a ship again while I lived; that I would
take his advice, and never run myself into such miseries as these
any more. Now I saw plainly the goodness of his observations
about the middle station of life; how easy, how comfortably he
had lived all his days, and never had been exposed to tempests at
sea, or troubles on shore; and I resolved that I would, like a true
repenting prodigal, go home to my father.

These wise and sober thoughts continued all the while the
storm continued, and indeed some time after; but the next day
the wind was abated and the sea calmer, and I began to be a little
inured to it. However, I was very grave for all that day, being
also a little sea-sick still; but towards night the weather cleared
up, the wind was quite over, and a charming fine evening followed;
the sun went down perfectly clear, and rose so the next morning ;
and having little or no wind, and a smooth sea, the sun shining
upon it, the sight was, as I thought, the most delightful that ever
T saw.

I had slept well in the night, and was now no more sea-sick
but very cheerful, looking with wonder upon the sea that was so
rough and terrible the day before, and could be so calm and so
pleasant in so little time after. And now, lest my good resolutions
should continue, my companion, who had indeed enticed me away,
comes to me,—‘‘ Well, Bob,” says he, clapping me on the shoulder.
“how do you do after it? I warrant you were frightened, wa’n't
you, last night, when it blew but a capful of wind ?”—“ A capful,
d’you call it?” said I; “twas a terrible storm.” —“ A storm, you
fool you,” replies he; “do you call that a storm? Why, it was
nothing at all! Give us but a good ship and sea-room, and we
HASTY VOWS SOON REPENTED. 5S

think nothing of such a squall of wind as that. But you're but 2
fresh-water sailor, Bob. Come, let us make a bowl of punch, and
we'll forget all that. D’ye see what charming weather ’tis now?”
To make short this sad part of my story, we went the old way of
all sailors. The punch was made, and J was made drunk with it.

 

 

“THE PUNCH WAS MADE, AND I WAS MADE DRUNK WITH I.”

And in that one night’s wickedness I drowned all my repentance,
all my reflections upon my past conduct, and all my resolutions
for my future. In a word, as the sea was returned to its smooth-
ness of surface and settled calmness by the abatement of that
storm, so—the hurry of my thoughts being over, my fears and
apprehensions of being swallowed up by the sea being forgotten,
and the current of my former desires returned—I entirely forgot
the vows and promises that I made in my distress. I found,
indeed, some intervals of reflection, and the serious thoughts did,
as it were, endeavour to return again sometimes; but I shook
60 A GREAT STORM ARISES.

them off, and roused myself from them as it were from a distemper,
and applying myself to drink and company, soon mastered the
return of those fits—for so I called them—and I had in five or six
days got as complete a victory over conscience as any young fellow,
that resolved not to be troubled with it, could desire. But I was
to have another trial for it still; and Providence, as in such cases
generally it does, resolved to leave me entirely without excuse.
For if I would not take this for a deliverance, the next was to be
such a one as the worst and most hardened wretch among us would
confess both the danger and the mercy.

The sixth day of our being at sea we came into Yarmouth Roads;
the wind having been contrary and the weather calm, we had
made but little way since the storm. Here we were obliged to
come to an anchor, and here we lay, the wind continuing contrary—
namely, at south-west—for seven or eight days, during which time
a great many ships from Newcastle came into the same roads, as
the common harbour where the ships might wait for a wind for
the river.

We had not, however, rid here so long, but should have tided it
up the river, but that the wind blew too fresh; and after we had
lain four or five days, blew very hard. However, the roads being
reckoned as good as a harbour, the anchorage good, and our
ground-tackle very strong, our men were unconcerned, and not in
the least apprehensive of danger, but spent the time in rest and
mirth, after the manner of the sea; but the eighth day, in the
morning, the wind increased, and we had all hands at work to
strike our top-masts, and make everything snug and close, that
the ship might ride as easy as possible. By noon the sea went
very high indeed, and our ship rode forecastle in, shipped several
seas, and we thought once or twice our anchor had come home,
upon which our master ordered out the shect-anchor; so that we
rode with two anchors a-head, and the cables veered out to the
better end.

By this time it blew a terrible storm indeed, and now I began
to see terror and amazement in the faces even of the seamen
themselves. ‘The master, though vigilant to the business of pre-
serving the ship, yet, as he went in and out of his cabin by me,
A YOUNG SAILOR’S DISTRESS. 61

[ could hear him softly to himself say several times, “Lord he
merciful to us; we shall be all lost, we shall be all undone,” and
the like. During these first hurries I was stupid, lying still in my
cabin, which was in the steerage, and cannot describe my temper.
I could ill re-assume the first penitence, which I had so apparently
trampled upon and hardened myself against. I thought the
bitterness of death had been past, and that this would be nothing,
too, like the first. But when the master himself came by me, as
I said just now, and said we should be all lost, I was dreadfully
frighted. I got up out of my cabin and looked out; but such a
dismal sight I never saw. ‘The sea went mountains high, and
broke upon us every three or four minutes. When I could look
about, I could see nothing but distress round us. ‘Two ships that
rode near us we found had cut their masts by the board, being
deeply laden; and our men cried out that a ship which rode about
a mile a-head of us was foundered. ‘Two more ships being driven
from their anchors, were run out of the roads to sea at all adven-
tures, and that with not a mast standing. ‘The light ships fared
the best, as not so much labouring in the sea; but two or three of
them drove, and came close by us, running away with only their
sprit-sail out before the wind.

Towards evening the mate and boatswain begged the master of
our ship to let them cut away the foremast, which he was very
unwilling to; but the boatswain protesting to him that if he did
not the ship would founder, he consented; and when they had cut
away the foremast, the main-mast stood so loose and shook the
ship so much, they were obliged to cut her away also, and make a
clear deck.

Any one may judge what a condition I must be in at all this,
who was but a young sailor, and who had been in such a fright
before at but a little. But if I can express at this distance the
thoughts I had about me at that time, I was in tenfold more
horror of mind upon account of my former convictions, and the
having returned from them to the resolutions I had wickedly taken
at first, than I was at death itself; and these, added to the terror
of the storm, put me into such 4 condition that I can by no words
describe it. But the worst was not come yet. The storm con-
62 ALL HANDS TO THE PUMP.

tinued with such fury, that the seamen themselves acknowledged
they had never known a worse. We had a good ship; but she
was deep laden, and wallowed in the sea, that the seamen every
now and then cried out she would founder. It was my advantage
in one respect that I did not know what they meant by founder
till I inquired. However, the storm was so violent, that I saw
what is not often seen—the master, the boatswain, and some
others more sensible than the rest, at their prayers, and expecting
every moment when the ship would go to the bottom. In the
middle of the night, and under all the rest of our distresses, one of
the men that had been down on purpose to see, cried out we had
sprung a leak; another said there was four foot water in the hold.

Then all hands were called to the pump. At that very word
my heart, as I thought, died within me, and I fell backwards upon
the side of my bed where [ sat, into the cabin. However, the men
roused me, and told me that I that was able to do nothing before
was as well able to pump as another, at which I stirred up and
went to the pump, and worked very heartily. While this was
doing, the master, seeing some light colliers, who, not able to ride
out the storm, were obliged to slip and run away to sea, and would
come near us, ordered to fire a gun as a signal of distress. I, who
knew nothing what that meant, was so surprised, that I thought
the ship had broke, or some dreadful thing had happened. Ina
word, I was so surprised, that I fell down in a swoon. As this
was a time when everybody had his own life to think of, nobody
minded me, or what was become of me; but another man stepped
up to the pump, and thrusting me aside with his foot, let me lie,
thinking I had been dead ; and it was a great while before I came
. to myself.

We worked on; but the water increasing in the hold, it was
apparent that the ship would founder; and though the storm
began to abate a little, yet, as it was not possible she could swim
till we might run into a port, so the master continued firing guns
for help, and a light ship, who had rode it out just ahead of us,
ventured a boat out to help us. It was with the utmost hazard
the boat came near us; but it was impossible for us to get on
board, or for the boat to lie near the ship’s side, till at last, the men
SAFE ON SHORE. 68

rowing very heartily, and venturing their lives to save ours, our
men cast them a rope over the stern with a buoy to it, and then
veered it out a great length, which they, after great labour and
hazard, took hold of, and we hauled them close under our stern,
and got all into their boat. It was to no purpose for them or us
after we were in the boat to think of reaching to their own ship,
so all agreed to let her drive, and only to pull her in towards shore
as much as we could; and our master promised them, that if the
boat was staved upon shore, he would make it good to their
master; so, partly rowing and partly driving, our boat went away
to the northward, sloping towards the shore almost as far as
Winterton Ness.

We were not much more than a quarter of an hour out of our
ship when we saw her sink, and then I understood for the first time
what was meant by a ship foundering in the sea. I must acknow-
ledge I had hardly eyes to look up when the seamen told me she
was sinking; for from that moment they rather put me into the
boat than that I might be said to go in. My heart was, as it
were, dead within me, partly with fright, partly with horror of
mind and the thoughts of what was yet before me.

While we were in this condition, the men yet labouring at the
oar to bring the boat near the shore, we could see, when our boat,
mounting the waves, we were able to see the shore, a great many
people running along the shore to assist us when we should come
near; but we made but slow way towards the shore, nor were we
able to reach the shore, till, being past the lighthouse at Winter-
ton, the shore falls off to the westward towards Cromer, and so the
land broke off a little the violence of the wind. Here we got in,
and though not without much difficulty, got all safe on shore, and
walked afterwards on foot to Yarmouth, where, as unfortunate
men, we were used with great humanity, as well by the magistrates
of the town, who assigned us good quarters, as by particular
merchants and owners of ships, and had money given us sufficient
to carry us either to London or back to Hull, as we thought fit.

Had I now had the sense to have gone back to Hull, and have
gone home, I had been happy, and my father, an emblem of our

blessed Saviour’s parable, had even killed the fatted calf for me;
4284) 5
64 CRUSOE LOOKED UPON AS A JONAH.

for, hearing the ship I went away in was cast away in Yarmouth
Roads, it was a great while before he had any assurance that I was
not drowned.

But my ill fate pushed me on now with an obstinacy that
nothing could resist; and though I had several times loud calls
from my reason and my more composed judgment to go home,
yet I had no power to do it. I know not what to call this, nor
will I urge that it is a secret over-ruling decree that hurries us on
to be the instruments of our own destruction, even though it be
before us, and that we rush upon it with our eyes open. Certainly
nothing but some such decreed unavoidable misery attending, and
which it was impossible for me to escape, could have pushed me
forward against the calm reasonings and persuasions of my most
retired thoughts, and against two such visible instructions as I
had met with in my first attempt.

My comrade, who had helped to harden me before, and who was
the master’s son, was now less forward than I. The first time he
spoke to me after we were at Yarmouth, which was not till two or
three days, for we were separated in the town to several quarters;
I say, the first time he saw me, it appeared his tone was altered,
and looking very melancholy, and shaking his head, asked me how
I did, and telling his father who I was, and how I had come this
voyage only for a trial, in order to go further abroad. His father,
turning to me with a very grave and concerned tone, “ Young
man,” says he, ‘‘ you ought never to go to sea any more; you
ought to take this for a plain and visible token that you are not to
be a seafaring man.”’—“‘ Why, sir,” said 1; “ will you go to sea no
more ?’’—“ That is another case,’’ said he. “ It is my calling, and
therefore my duty; but as you made this voyage for a trial, you
see what_a taste Heaven has given vou of what you are to expect
if you persist. Perhaps this is all befallen us on your account,
like Jonah in the ship of Tarshish. Pray,” continues he, ‘‘ what
are you? and on what account did you go to sea?” Upon that I
told him some of my story, at the end of which he burst out with
a strange kind of passion, “ What had I done,” says he, “that
such an unhappy wretch should come into my ship? I would not
set my foot in the same ship with thee again for a thousand
RELUCTANCE TO GO HOME. 65

pounds.” ‘This, indeed, was, as I said, an excursion of his spirits,
which were yet agitated by the sense of his loss, and was further
than he could have authority to go. However, he afterwards
talked very gravely to me; exhorted me to go back to my father,
and not tempt Providence to my ruin; told me I might see a
visible hand of Heaven against me; ‘ And, young man,” said he,
“ depend upon it, if you do not go back, wherever you go you will
meet with nothing but disasters and disappointments, till your
father’s words are fulfilled upon you.”

We parted soon after, for I made him little answer, and I saw
him no more. Which way he went, I know not. As for me,
having some money in my pocket, I travelled to London by land ;
and there, as well as on the road, had many struggles with myself
—what course of life I should take, and whether I should go
home or go to sea,

As to going home, shame opposed the best motions that offered
to my thoughts; and it immediately occurred to me how I should
be laughed at among the neighbours, and should be ashamed to
see, not my father and mother only, but even everybody else, from
whence I have since often observed how incongruous and irrational
the common temper of mankind is, especially of youth, to that
reason which ought to guid at they
are not ashamed to sin, and yet are ashamed to repent; not
ashamed of the action for which they ought justly to be esteemed
fools, but are ashamed of the returning, which only can make them
be esteemed wise men.

In this state of life, however, I remained some time, uncertain
what measures to take and what course of life to lead. An irre-
sistible reluctance continued to going home; and as I stayed a
while, the remembrance of the distress I had been in wore off;
and as that abated, the little motion I had in my desires toa
return wore off with it, till at last I quite laid aside the thoughts
of it, and looked out for a voyage.

That evil influence which carried me first away from my father’s
house, that hurried me into the wild and _indigested notion of
raising my fortune, and that impressed those conceits so forcibly
upon me, as to make me deaf to all good advice, and to the

                          
66 A VOYAGE TO GUINEA.

entreaties and even command of my father—I say, the same in-
tluence, whatever it was, presented the most unfortunate of all enter-
prises to my view, and I went on board a vessel bound to the coast
of Africa, or, as our sailors vulgarly call it, a voyage to Guinea.

It was my great misfortune that in all these adventures I did
not ship myself as a sailor, whereby, though I might indeed have
worked a little harder than ordinary, yet at the same time I had
learned the duty and office of a fore-mast man, and in time might
have qualified myself for a mate or lieutenant, if not for a master.
But as it was always my fate to choose for the worse, so I did
here; for, having money in my pocket, and good clothes upon my
back, I would always go on board in the habit of a gentleman. And
so I neither had any business in the ship, or learned to do any.

It was my lot first of all to fall into pretty good company in
London, which does not always happen to such loose and misguided
young fellows as I then was, the devil generally not omitting to
lay some snare for them very early. But it was not so with me.
I first fell acquainted with the master of a ship who had been on
the coast of Guinea; and who, having had very good success there,
was resolved to go again; and who, taking a fancy to my conver-
sation, which was not at all disagreeable at that time, hearing me
say I had a mind to see the world, told me if I would go the
voyage with him I should be at no expense; I should be his mess-
mate and his companion; and if I could carry anything with me,
I should have all the advantage of it that the trade would admit,
and perhaps I might meet with some encouragement.

I embraced the offer, and, entering into a strict friendship with
this captain, who was an honest and plain-dealing man, I went the
voyage with him, and carried a small adventure with me, which,
by the disinterested honesty of my friend the captain, I increased
very considerably ; for I carried about £40 in such toys and trifles
as the captain directed me to buy. This £40 I had mustered
together by the assistance of some of my relations whom I corre-
sponded with, and who, I believe, got my father, or at least my
mother, to contribute so much as that to my first adventure.

This was the only voyage which I may say was successful in all
my adventures, and which I owe to the integrity and honesty of
ATTACKED BY A TURKISH PIRATE. 8T

my friend the captain, under whom also I got a competent
knowledge of the mathematics and the rules of navigation, learned
how to keep an account of the ship’s course, take an observation,
and, in short, to understand some things that were needful to be
understood by a sailor. For, as he took delight to introduce me,
I took delight to learn; and, in a word, this voyage made me both
a sailor and a merchant; for I brought home five pounds nine
ounces of gold dust for my adventure, which yielded me in London
at my return almost £300, and this filled me with those aspiring
thoughts which have since so completed my ruin.

Yet even in this voyage I had my misfortunes too, particularly
that I was continually sick, being thrown into a violent calenture
by the excessive heat of the climate, our principal trading being
upon the coast, from the latitude of fifteen degrees north even to
the line itself.

Twas now set up for a Guinea trader; and my friend, to my
great misfortune, dying soon after his arrival, I resolved to go the
same voyage again, and I embarked in the same vessel with one
who was his mate in the former voyage, und had now got the
command of the ship. This was the unhappiest voyage that ever
man made; for though I did not carry quite £100 of my new
gained wealth, so that I had £200 left, and which I lodged with
my friend’s widow, who was very just to me, yet I fell into
terrible misfortunes in this voyage; and the first was this—namely,
our ship making her course towards the Canary Islands, or rather
between those islands and the African shore, was surprised in the
gray of the morning by a Turkish rover of Sallee, who gave chase
to us with all the sail she could make. We crowded also as much
canvas as our yards would spread or our masts carry to have got
clear; but finding the pirate gained upon us, and would certainly
come up with us in a few hours, we prepared to fight, our ship
having twelve guns and the rogue eighteen. About three in the
aiternoon he came up with us, and bringing-to by mistake just
athwart our quarter, instead of athwart our stern, as he intended,
we brought eight of our guns to bear on that side, and poured in
a broadside upun him, which made him sheer off again, after
returning our fire and pouring in also his small shot from near
38 A GALLANT DEFENCE,

two hundred men which he had on board. However, we had not
a man touched, all our men keeping close. He prepared to attack
us again, and we to defend ourselves; but laying us on board the

next time upon our other quarter, he entered sixty men upon our

 

   

“WE PLIED THEM WITH SMALL-SHOT,
HALF-PIKES, AND SUCH LIKE.”

decks, who immediately fell to
cutting and hacking the decks
and rigging. We plied them
with small-shot, half-pikes, powder-chests, and such like, and
cleared our deck of them twice. However, to cut short this
melancholy part of our story, our ship being disabled, and three
of our men killed and eight wounded, we were obliged to yield.

 
CRUSOE AS A SLAVE, 69

and were carried all prisoners into Sallee, a port belonging to the
Moors.

The usage I had there was not so dreadful as at first [ appre-
hended, nor was I carried up the country to the Emperor’s court,
as the rest of our men were, but was kept by the captain of the
rover as his preper prize, and made his slave, being young and
nimble, and fit for his business. At this surprising change of my
circumstances, from a merchant to a miserable slave, I was perfectly
overwhelmed; and now I looked back upon my father’s prophetic
discourse to me, that I should be miserable, and have none to
relieve me, which I thought was now so effectually brought to
pass, that it could not be worse; that now the hand of Heaven
had overtaken me, and I was undone without redemption. But,
alas! this was but a taste of the misery I was tu go through, as
will appear in the sequel of this story.

As my new patron or master had taken me home to his house,
so I was in hopes that he would take me with him when he went
to sea again, believing that it would some time or other be his
fate to be taken by a Spanish or Portugal man-of-war; and that
then I should be set at liberty. But this hope of mine was soon
taken away; for when he went to sea he left me on shore to look
after his little garden, and do the common drudgery of slaves
about his house; and when he came home again from his cruise,
he ordered me to lie in the cabin to look alter the ship.

Here I meditated nothing but my escape, and what method I
might take to effect it, but found no way that had the least pro-
bability in it. Nothing presented to make the supposition of it
rational; for I had nobody to communicate it to that would
embark with me, no fellow-slave, no Englishman, Irishman, or
Scotsman there but myself; so that for two years, though I often
pleased myself with the imagination, yet I never had the least
encouraging prospect of putting it in practice.

After about two years an odd circumstance presented itself,
which put the old thought of making some attempt for my liberty
again in my head. My patron lying at home longer than usual
without fitting out his ship, which, as [ heard, was for want of
money, he used constantly, once or twice a-week, sometimes
70 FISHING EXCURSIONS.

oftener, if the weather was fair, to take the ship’s pinnace, and go
out into the road a-fishing; and as he always took me and a young
Maresco with him to row the boat, we made him very merry, and

I proved very dexterous in catching fish, insomuch that some-

 

“WE ALWAYS TOOK ME AND A YOUNG MARESCO TO ROW THE LOA.”

times he would send me with a Moor, one of his kinsmen, and the
youth—the Maresco, as they called him—to catch a dish of fish for
him.

It happened one time, that going a-fishing in a stark calm
morning, a fog rose so thick, that though we were not half a
league from the shore we lost sight of it; and rowing we knew
not whither or which way, we laboured all day and all the next
night, and when the morning came we found we had pulled off
to sea instead of pulling in for the shore; and that we were at
least two leagues from the shore. However, we got well in
again, though with a great deal of labour and some danger; for
the wind began to blow pretty fresh in the morning: but particu-
larly we were all very hungry.

But our patron, warned by this disaster, resolved to take more
care of himself for the future; and having lying by him the long-
boat of our English ship which he had taken, he resolved he would
not go a-fishing any more without a compass and some provision.
So he ordered the carpenter of his ship, who also was an English
slave, to build a little state-room or cabin in the middle of the
A PLAN OF ESCAPE. 7

longboat, like that of a barge, with a place to stand behind it to
steer and haul home the main-sheet; and room before for a hand
or two to stand and work the sails. She sailed with what we call
a shoulder-of-mutton sail; and the boom gibed over the top of the
cabin, which lay very snug and low, and had in it room for him
to lie, with a slave or two; and a table to eat on, with some small
lockers to put in some bottles of such liquor as he thought fit to
drink ; particularly his bread, rice, and coffee.

We went frequently out with this boat a-fishing. And as I was
most dexterous to catch fish for him, he never went without me.
It happened that he had appointed to go out in this boat, either
for pleasure or for fish, with two or three Moors of some distinction
in that place, and for whom he had provided extraordinarily, and
had therefore sent on board the boat overnight a larger store of
provisions than ordinary ; and had ordered me to get ready three
fuzees with powder and shot, which were on board his ship, for
that they designed some sport of fowling as well as fishing.

1 got all things ready as he had directed, and waited the next
morning with the boat washed clean, her ancient and pendants
out, and everything to accommodate his guests. When by-and-by
my patron came on board alene, and told me his guests had put
off going, upon some business that fell out, and ordered me with
the man and boy as usual to go out with the boat and catch them
some fish, for that his friends were to sup at his house; and com-
manded that as soon as Thad got some fish, I should bring it home
to his house; all which I prepared to do.

This moment my former notions of deliverance darted into
my thoughts, for now I found I was like to have a little ship at
my command; and my master being gone, I prepared to furnish
myself, not for a fishing business, but for a voyage; though I
knew not, neither did I so much as consider, whither I should
steer; for anywhere tu get out of that place was my way.

My first contrivance was to make a pretence to speak to this
Moor, to get something for our subsistence on board; for I told
him we must not presume to eat of our patron’s bread. He said
that was true; so he brought a large basket of rusk or biscuit of
their kind, and three jars with fresh water into the boat. J knew
72 CRUSUE AND MOELY.

where my patron’s case of bottles stood, which it was evident by
the make were taken out of some English prize, and I conveyed
them into the boat while the Moor was on shore, as if they had
been there before for our master. I conveyed also a great lump
of bees’-wax into the boat, which weighed above half a hundred-
weight, with a parcel of twine or thread, a hatchet, a saw, and a
hammer, all which were of great use to us afterwards, especially
the wax to make candles. Another trick I tried upon him, which
he innocently came into also. His name was Ismael, who they call
Muly or Moely; so I called to him—* Moely,” said I, “ our patron’s
guns are on board the boat; can you not get a little powder and
shot? It may be we may kill some alcamies (a fowl like our curlews)
for ourselves, for I know he keeps the gunner’s stores in the ship.”
* Yes,” says he, Vil bring some.” And accordingly he brought a
great leather pouch, which held about a pound and a half of powder,
or rather more, and another with shot, that had five or six pounds,
with some bullets, and put all into the boat. At the same time, I
had found some powder of my master’s in the great cabin, with
which I filled one of the large bottles in the case, which was
almost empty, pouring what was in it into another; and thus
furnished with everything needful, we sailed out of the port to
fish. ‘The castle, which is at the entrance of the port, knew who
we were, and took no notice of us; and we were not above a mile
out of the port before we hauled in our sail, and set us down to
fish. ‘Che wind blew from the north-north-east, which was con-
trary to my desire; for had it blown southerly, I had been sure
to have made the coast of Spain, and at least reached to the Bay
of Cadiz; but my resolutions were, blow which way it would, 1
would be gone from the horrid place where I was, and leave the
rest to fate.

Atter we had fished some time and caught nothing—for when
I had fish on my hook, I would not pull them up, that he might
not see them—lI said to the Moor, “ This will not do; our master
will not be thus served; we must stand further off.” He, thinking
uo harm, agreed; and being in the head of the boat, set the sails:
and as I had the helm, I ran the boat out near a league further,
and then brought her to, as if I wonld fish; when, giving the
tHk MOOR OVERBOARD. 78

doy the helm, I stepped forward to where the Moor was, and
making as if I stooped for something behind him, I took him by
surprise with my arm under his twist, and tossed him clear over-
board into the sea. He rose immediately, for he swam like a cork,
and called to me, begged to be taken in; told me he would go all
the world over with me. He swam so strong after the boat that
he would have reached me very quickly, there being but little
wind; upon which I stepped into the cabin, and fetching one of
the fowling-pieces, I presented it at him, and told him I had done
him no hurt, and if he would be quiet I would do him none. “ But,”
said I, “you swim well enough to reach to the shore, and the sea

\ is calm; make the best of
; your way to shore, and I will
do you no harm, but if you

 
 
 
 
 
 
  

come near the boat I’ll shoot
you through the head; for I
am resolved to have my
liberty.”” So he turned him-
self about and swam for the

“HE TURNED HIMSELF ABOUT AND SWAM FOR THE SHORE.”

shore; and I make no doubt but he reached it with ease, for he
was an excellent swimmer.

I could have been content to have taken this Moor with me
and have drowned the boy, but there was no venturing to trust
him. When he was gone I turned to the boy, who they called
74 MAKING FOR THE COAST.

Xury, and said to him, “ Xury, if you will be faithful to me, I’ll
make you a great man; but if you will not stroke your face to be
true to me—that is, swear by Mahomet and his father’s beard—I
oust throw you into the sea too.” The boy smiled in my face, and
spoke so innocently, that I could not mistrust him; and swore to
be faithful to me, and go all over the world with me.

While I was in view of the Moor that was swimming, I stood
out directly to sea with the boat, rather stretching to windward,
that they might think me gone towards the strait’s mouth (as in-
deed any one that had been in their wits must have been supposed
to do); for who would have supposed we were sailed on to the
southward, to the truly barbarian coast, where whole nations of
negroes were sure to surround us with their canoes, and destroy
us; where we could never once go on shore but we should be
devoured by savage beasts, or more merciless savages of human
kind.

But as soon as it grew dusk in the evening I changed my
course, and steered directly south and by east, bending my course
a little toward the east, that I might keep in with the shore:
and having a fair fresh gale of wind and a smooth, quiet sea, I
made such sail that I believe by the next day at three o’clock
in the afternoon, when I first made the land, I could not be less
than 150 miles south of Sallee; quite beyond the Emperor of
Morocco’s dominions, or, indeed, of any other king thereabouts, for
we saw no people.

Yet such was the fright I had taken at the Moors, and the
dreadful apprehensions I had of falling into their hands, that I
would not stop, or go on shore, or come to an anchor, the wind
continuing fair, till I had sailed in that manner five days; and
then the wind shifting to the southward, I concluded also that if
any of our vessels were in chase of me, they also would now give over.
So I ventured to make to the coast, and came to an anchor in the
mouth of a little river, I knew not what, or where; neither what
latitude, what country, what nation, or what river. I neither saw,
nor desired to see, any people; the principal thing I wanted was
fresh water. We came into this creek in the evening, resolving
to swim on shore as soon as it was dark, and discover the country;
MONSTERS OF THE DEEP. 76

but as soon as it was quite dark we heard such dreadful noises of
the barking, roaring, and howling of wild creatures, of we knew
not what kinds, that the poor boy was ready to die with fear,
and begged of me not to goon shore till day. ‘“ Well, Xury,” said I,
“then I won’t; but it may be we may see men by day, who will be
as bad to us as those lions.” “ Then we give them the shoot gun,”
says Xury, laughing; “ make them run way.” Such English Xury
spoke by conversing among us slaves. However, I was glad to:
see the boy so cheerful, and I gave him a dram (out of our patron’s
case of bottles) to cheer him up. After all, Xury’s advice was
good, and I took it. We dropped our little anchor, and lay still
all night—I say still, for we slept none—for in two or three hours
we saw vast great creatures (we knew not what to call them) of
many sorts come down to the sea-shore, and run into the water,
wallowing and washing themselves for the pleasure of cooling
themselves ; and they made such hideous howlings and yellings,
that I never indeed heard the like.

Xury was dreadfully frightened, and indeed so was I too. But
we were both more frightened when we heard one of these mighty
creatures come swimming towards our boat. We could not see
him, but we might hear him by his blowing to be a monstrous,
huge, and furious beast. Xury said it was a lion, and it might be
so for aught I know; but poor Xury cried to me to weigh the
anchor, and row away. “No,” says I; “ Xury, we can slip our
cable with the buoy to it, and go off to sea. They cannot follow
us far.” I had no sooner said so but I perceived the creature
(whatever it was) within two oars’ length, which something sur-
prised me. However, I immediately stepped to the cabin-door,
and taking up my gun, fired at him, upon which he immediately
turned about, and swam towards the shore again.

But it is impossible to describe the horrible noises, and hideous
cries and howlings, that were raised as well upon the edge of the
shore as higher within’ the country, upon the noise or report of
the gun—a thing I have some reason to believe those creatures
had never heard before. This convinced me that there was no
going on shore for us in the night upon that coast; and how to
venture on shore in the day was another question too, for to have
76 CRUSOE AND XURY ASHORE.

fallen into the hands of any of the savages had been as bad as ta
have fallen into the hands of lions and tigers; at least we were
equally apprehensive of the danger of it.

 

 

“TAKING UP MY GUN, I FIRED AT HIM.”

Be that as it would, we were obliged to go on shore somewhere
or other for water, for we had not a pint left in the boat. When
or where to get it was the point. Xury said, if I would let him
go on shore with one of the jars, he would find if there was any
water, and bring some tome. I asked him why he would go—
why I should not go and he stay in the boat? The boy answered
with so much affection that made me love him ever after. Says
ne, “If wild mans come, they eat me; you go way.” “ Well,
Xury,” said I, ‘ we will both go; and if the wild mans come, we
will kill them. They shall eat neither of us.” So I gave Xury
a piece of rusk-bread to eat, and a dram out of our patron’s case
of bottles which I mentioned before; and we hauled in the boat
as near the shore as we thought was proper, and so waded on shore,
earrying nothing but our arms and two jars for water.

I did not care to go out of sight of the boat, fearing the coming
of canoes with savages down the river; but the boy seeing a low
place about a mile up the country, rambled to it; and by-and-by I
saw him come running towards me. I thought he was pursued by
some savage, or frightened with some wild beast, and I ran forward
towards him to help him; but when I came nearer to him, I saw
something hanging over his shoulders—which was a creature that
A COASTING VOYAGE. bi

he had shot, like a hare, but different in colour and longer legs
However, we were very glad of it, and it was very good meat; but
the great joy that poor Xury came with, was to tell me he had
found good water and seen no wild men.

But we found afterwards that we need not take such pains for
water, for a little higher up the creek where we were, we found the
water fresh when the tide was out, which flowed but a little way
up. So we filled our jars, and feasted on the hare we had killed,
and prepared to go on our way, having seen no footsteps of any
human creature in that part of the country.

As I had been one voyage to this coast before, I knew very well
that the islands of the Canaries, and the Cape de Verd islands also,
lay not far off from the coast. But as I had no instruments to take
an observation to know what latitude we were in, and did not
exactly know, or at Jeast remember, what latitude they were in,
1 knew not where to look for them, or when to stand off to sea
towards them; otherwise I might now easily have found some of
these islands. But my hope was, that if I stood along this coast
till I came to that part where the English traded, I should find
some of their vessels upon their usual design of trade, that would
relieve and take us in.

By the best of my calculation, that place where I now was must
be that country which, lying between the Emperor of Morocco’s
dominions and the negroes, lies waste and uninhabited, except by
wild beasts—the negroes having abandoned it and gone further
south, for fear of the Moors; and the Moors not thinking it worth
inhabiting, by reason of its barrenness. And, indeed, both forsaking
it because of the prodigious number of tigers, lions, leopards, and
other furious creatures which harbour there; so that the Moors
use it for their hunting only, where they go like an army, two or
three thousand men at a time. And, indeed, for near a hundred
miles together upon this coast, we saw nothing but a waste unin-
habited country by day, and heard nothing but howlings and roar-
ing of wild beasts by night.

Once or twice in the day-time, I thought I saw the Pico of
Teneriffe, being the high top of the mountain of Teneriffe in the
Canaries; and had a great mind to venture out in hopes of reach-
78 ADVENTURE WITH A LION.

ing thither; but having tried twice, I was forced in again by con-
trary winds, the sea also going too high for my little vessel, so I
resolved to pursue my first design and keep along the shore.
Several times I was obliged to land for fresh water after we had
left this place ; and once in particular, being early in the morning,
we came to an anchor under a little point of land which was pretty
hign, and the
tide beginning to

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

flow, we lay still
to go further in.
Xury, whose eyes
were more about
him than it seems
mine were, calls
softly to me, and
tells me that we
had best = go
further off the
shore :—‘“‘ For,”

“WE CAME TO AN ANCHOR UNDEK A LITL£LE POINT OF LAND.”

says he, “look, yonder les a dreadful monster on the side of
that hillock fast asleep.” I looked where he pointed, and saw
a dreadful monster indeed; for it was a terrible great lion that
lay on the side of the shore, under the shade of a piece of the
hill, that hung as it were a little over him. ‘“ Xury,” says I, “you
shall go on shore and kill him.” Xury looked frightened, and said,
“Me kill! he eat me at one mouth ”—one mouthful, he meant.
However, I said no inore to the boy, but bade him lie still; and I
took our biggest gun, which was almost musket-bore, and loaded
it with a good charge of powder and with two slugs, and laid it
down; then I loaded another gun with two bullets; and the third
—for we had three pieces—-I loaded with five smaller bullets. I
took the best aim I could with the first piece to have shot him
into the head, but he lay so with his leg raised a little above his
nose, that the slugs hit his leg about the knee, and broke the bone.
He started up, growling at first; but finding his leg broke, fell
down again; and then got up upon three legs, and gave the most
hideous roar that ever I heard. I was a little surprised that I had
BEATING TO THE SOUTHWARD. 19

not hit him on the head. However, I took up the second piece
immediately ; and though he began to move off, fired again, and
shot him into the head, and had the pleasure to see him drop, and
make but little noise, but lie struggling for life. Then Xury took
heart, and would have me let him go on shore. “ Well, go,” said I.
So the boy jumped into the water, and taking a little gun in one
hand, swam to shore with the other hand, and coming close to the
creature, put the muzzle of the piece to his ear, and shot him into
the head again, which despatched him quite.

This was game indeed to us, but this was no food; and-I was
very sorry to lose three charges of powder and shot upon a creature
that was good for nothing to us. However, Xury said he would
have some of him; so he comes on board, and asked me to give him
the hatchet. ‘“ For what, Xury?” said I. ‘ Me cut off his head,”
said he. However, Xury could not cut off his head; but he cut off
a foot and brought it with him—and it was a monstrous great one.

I bethought myself, however, that perhaps the skin of him might
one way or other be of some value to us; and I resolved to take
off his skin if I could. So Xury and I went to work with him ;
but Xury was much the better workman at it—for I knew very ill
how to do it. Indeed, it took us up both the whole day; but at
last we got off the hide of him, and spreading it on the top of our
cabin, the sun effectually dried it in two days’ time, and it after-
wards served me to lie upon.

After this stop we made on to the southward continually for ten
or twelve days, living very sparing en our provisions, which began
to abate very much, and going no oftener into the shore than we
were obliged to for fresh water. My design in this was to make
the river Gambia or Senegal—that is to say, anywhere about the
Cape de Verd, where I was in hopes to meet with some European
ship ; and if I did not, I knew not what course I had to take, but
to seek out for the islands or perish there among the negroes.
I knew that all the ships from Europe—which sailed either to the
coast of Guinea, or to Brazil, or to the East Indies—made this
cape or those islands; and in a word, I put the whole of my fortune
upon this single point, either that I must mect with some ship or
must perish.

284) 6
80 CRUSOE AND THE SAVAGES.

When I had pursued this resolution about ten days longer, as 1
have said, I began to see that the land was inhabited; and in two
or three places, as we sailed by, we saw people stand upon the
shore to look at us. We could also perceive they were quite black
and stark naked. I was once inclined to have gone on shore to
them. But Xury was my better counsellor, and said to me, “ No
go, no go.” However, I hauled in nearer the shore that I might
talk to them, and I found they ran along the shore by me a good
way. I observed they had no weapons in their hands—except
one, who had a long slender stick, which Xury said was a lance,
and that they would throw them a great way with good aim. So
I kept at a distance, but talked with them by signs as well as I
could; and particularly made signs for something to cat. They
beckoned to me to stop my boat, and that they would fetch me
some meat. Upon this I lowered the top of my sail and lay by;
and two of them ran up into the country, and in less than half an
hour came back and brought with them two pieces of dry flesh
and some corn, such as is the produce of their country—but we
neither knew what the one or the other was. However, we were
willing to accept it, but how to come at it was our next dispute ;
for I was not for venturing on shore to them, and they were as
much afraid of us. But they took a safe way for us all—for they
brought it to the shore and laid it down, and went and stood a
great way off till we fetched it on board, and ther came close to us
again.

We made signs of thanks to them, for we had nothing to make
them amends. But an opportunity offered that very instant to
oblige them wonderfully—for while we were lying by the shore,
came two mighty creatures, one pursuing the other (as we took it)
with great fury, from the mountains towards the sea. Whether it
was the male pursuing the female, or whether they were in sport
or in rage, we could not tell, any more than we could tell whether
it was usual or strange; but I believe it was the latter—because, in
the first place, those ravenous creatures seldom appear but in the
night; and, in the second place, we found the people terribly
frightened, especially the women. The man that had the lance or
dart did not fly from them, but the rest did. However, as the
AN OPPORTUNE EXPLOIT. 81

two creatures ran directly into the water, they did not seem to
offer to fall upon any of the negroes, but plunged themselves into
the sea, and swam about as if they had come for their diversion.
At last one of them began to come nearer our boat than at first I
expected, but I lay ready for him; for I had loaded my gun with
all possible expedition, and bade Xury load both the others. As
soon as he came fairly within my reach I fired, and shot him
directly into the head. Immediately he sank down into the water,
but rose instantly and plunged up and down as if he was struggling
for life. And so indeed he was. He immediately made to the
shore ; but between the wound, which was his mortal hurt, and
the strangling of the water, he died just before he reached the
shore.

it is impossible to express the astonishment of these poor
creatures at the noise and the fire of my gun; some of them were
even ready to die for fear, and fell down as dead with the very
terror. But when they saw the creature dead and sunk in the
water, and that I made signs to them to come to the shore, they took
heart and came to the shore, and began to search for the creature.
I found him by his blood staining the water; and by the help of a
rope which I slung round him, and gave the negroes to haul, they
dragged him on shore, and found that it was a most curious
leopard, spotted and fine to an admirable degree; and the negroes
held up their hands with admiration to think what it was I had
killed him with.

The other creature, frightened with the flash of fire and the noise
of the gun, swam on shore, and ran up directly to the mountains
from whence they came, nor could I at that distance know what it
was. I found quickly the negroes were for eating the flesh of this
creature, so I was willing to have them take it as a favour from
me; which, when I made signs to them that they might take him,
they were very thankful for. Immediately they fell to work with
him ; and though they had no knife, yet with a sharpened piece of
wood they took off his skin as readily—and much more readily
than we could have done with a knife. They offered me some of
the flesh, which I declined, making as if I would give it them;
but made signs for the skin, which they gave me very freely, and
82 “A SAIL! A SAIL!”

brought me a great deal more of their provision, which, though 1
did not understand, yet I accepted. Then I made signs to them
for some water, and held out one of my jars to them, turning it
bottom upward, to show that it was empty, and that I wanted to
have it filled. They called immediately to some of their friends;
and there came two women, and brought a great vessel made of
earth, and burned as I suppose in the sun. This they set down for
me as before; and I sent Xury on shore with my jars, and filled
them all three. The women were as stark naked as the men.

I was now furnished with roots and corn—such as it was—and
water; and leaving my friendly negroes, I made forward for about
eleven days more without offering to go near the shore, till I saw
the land run out a great length into the sea, at about the distance
of four or five leagues before me, and the sea being very calm, 1
kept a large offing to make this point. At length, doubling the
point at about two leagues from the land, I saw plainly land on the
other side to seaward. Then I concluded, as it was most certain
indeed, that this was the Cape de Verd, and those the islands,
called from thence Cape de Verd Islands. However, they were at
a great distance ; and I could not well tell what I had best to do,
for if I should be taken with a fresh of wind, I might neither
reach one nor the other.

In this dilemma, as I was very pensive, I stepped into the cabin
and sat me down, Xury having the helm, when on a sudden the
boy cried out, ‘‘ Master, master, a ship with a sail!” and the foolish
boy was frightened out of his wits, thinking it must needs be some
of his master’s ships sent to pursue us, when I knew we were
gotten far enough out of their reach. I jumped out of the cabin,
and immediately saw not only the ship, but what she was—namely,
that it was a Portuguese ship, and, as I thought, was bound to the
coast of Guinea for negroes. But when I observed the course she
steered, I was soon convinced they were bound some other way,
and did not design to come any nearer to the shore. Upon which
[ stretched out to sea as much as I could, resolving to speak with
them if possible.

With all the sail I could make, I found I should not be able to
come in their way, but that they would be gone by before I could
THE PORTUGUESE SHIP. 88

make any signal to them. But after I had crowded to the utmost
and begun to despair, they, it seems, saw me by the help of their
perspective-glasses, and that it was some European boat, which, as
they supposed, must belong to some ship that was lost; so they
shortened sail to let me come up. I was encouraged with this;

 

“‘T WAS SOON CONVINCED THEY WERF BOUND SOME OTHER WAY.”

and as I had my patron’s ancient on board, I made a waft of it to
them for a signal of distress, and fired a gun—both which they
saw, for they told me they saw the smoke, though they did not
hear the gun. Upon these signals they very kindly brought to,
and lay by for me, and in about three hours’ time I came up with
them. »

They asked me what I was, in Portuguese and in Spanish and
in French, but I understood none of them; but at last a Scotch
sailor who was on board called to me; and I answered him, and
told him I was an Englishman, that I had made my escape out of
slavery from the Moors at Sallee. Then they bade me come on
board, and very kindly took me in and all my goods.

It was an inexpressible joy to me, that any one will believe, that
I was thus delivered, as I esteemed it, from such a miserable and
almost hopeless condition as I was in, and I immediately offered
all I had to the captain of the ship as a return for my deliverance;
but he generously told me he would take nothing from me, but
that all I had should be delivered safe to me when I came to the
Rrazils. ‘‘ For,” says he, “I have saved your life on no other
84 AN HONEST SEA-CAPTAIN.

terms than I would be glad to be saved myself, and it may one time
or other be my lot to be taken up in the same condition ; besides,”
said he, “when I carry you to the Brazils, so great a way from
your own country, if I should take from you what you have, you
will be starved there, and then I only take away that life I have
given. No, no, Seignor Inglese,” says he, “ Mr. Englishman, I
will carry you thither in charity, and those things will help you to
buy your subsistence there and your passage home again.”

As he was charitable in his proposal, so he was just in the
performance to a tittle; for he ordered the seamen that none
should offer to touch anything Thad. Then he took everything
into his own possession, and gave me back an exact inventory of
them, that I might have them, even so much as my three earthen
jars.

As to my boat it was a very good one, and that he saw, and told
me he would buy it of me for the ship’s use, and asked me what I]
would have for it? I told him he had been so generous to me in
everything, that I could not offer to make any price of the boat,
but left it entirely to him; upon which he told me he would give me
a note of his hand to pay me eighty pieces of eight for it at Brazil,
and when it came there, if any one offered to give more he would
make it up. He offered me also sixty pieces of eight more for my
boy Xury; which I was loath to take: not that I was not willing to
let the captain have him, but I was very loath to sell the poor boy’s
liberty, who had assisted me so faithfully in procuring my own.
However, when I let him know my reason, he owned if to be
just, and offered me this medium—that he would give the boy
an obligation to set him free in ten years, if he turned Christian.
Upon this, and Xury saying he was willing to go to him, I let the
captain have him.

We had a very good voyage to the Brazils, and arrived in the
Bay de Todos los Santos, or All-Saints’ Bay, in about twenty-two
days after. And now I was once more delivered from the most
miserable of all conditions of life; and what to do next with
myself I was now to consider.

The generous treatment the captain gave me I can never enough
remember. He would take nothing of me for my passage, gave
ON SHORE IN THE BRAZILS, 85

me twenty ducats for the leopard’s skin and forty for the lion’s
skin which I had in my boat, and caused everything I had in the
ship to be punctually delivered me; and what I was willing to
sell he bought, such as the case of bottles, two of my guns, and a
piece of the lump of bees-wax, for I had made candles of the rest.
In a word, I made about two hundred and twenty pieces of eight
of all my cargo; and with this stock I went on shore in the
Brazils.

Thad not been long here, but being recommended to the house
of a good honest man like himself, who had an “ ingeino,” as they
call it—that is, a plantation and a sugar-house—TI lived with him
some time, and acquainted myself by that means with the manner
of their planting and making of sugar. And seeing how well the
planters lived, and how they grew rich suddenly, I resolved, if I
could get license to settle there, I would turn planter among them ;
resolving in the meantime to find out some way to get my money
which I had left in London remitted to me. To this purpose,
getting a kind of a letter of naturalization, I purchased as much
land that was uncured as my money would reach, and formed a plan
for my plantation and settlement, and such a one as might be suit-
able to the stock which I proposed to myself to receive from
England.

I had a neighbour—a Portuguese of Lisbon, but born of English
parents— whose name was Wells, and in much such circumstances
a3 I was. I call him my neighbour, because his plantation lay
next to mine, and we went on very sociably together. My stock
was but low as well as his; and we rather planted for food than
anything else for about two years. However, we began to increase,
and our land began to come into order; so that the third year we
planted some tobacco, and made each of us a large piece of ground
ready for planting canes in the year to come. But we both wanted
help; and now I found, more than before, I had done wrong in
parting with my boy Xury.

But alas! for me to do wrong that never did right was no great
wonder. I had no remedy but to go on. I was gotten into an
employment quite remote to my genius, and directly contrary to
the life I delighted in, and for which I forsook my father’s house,
86 A TRUE FRIEND.

and broke through all his good advice; nay, I was coming into
the very middle station, or upper degree of low life, which my
father advised me to before, and which, if I resolved to go on with,
T might as well have stayed at home, and never have fatigued myself
in the world as Thad done. And I used often to say to myself, I
could have done this as well in England amang my friends as have
gone five thousand miles off to do it among strangers and savages
in a wilderness, and at such a distance qs never to hear from any
part of the world that had the least knowledge of me.

In this manner I used to look upon my condition with the
utmost regret. I had nobody to converse with but now and then
this neighbour—no work to be done but by the labour of my
hands ; and I used to say I lived just like a man cast away upon
some desolate island that had nobody there but himself. But how
just has it been, and how should all men reflect that when they
compare their present conditions with others that are worse,
Heaven may oblige them to make the exchange, and be convinced
of their former felicity by their experience, —I say how just has it
been that the truly solitary life I reflected on. in an island of mere
desolation, should be my lot, who had so often unjustly compared
it with the life which I then led; in which, had I continued, I
had in all probability been exceeding prosperous and rich !

Iwas in some degree settled in my measures for carrying on
the plantation, before my kind friend, the captain of the ship that
took me up at sea, went back—for the ship remained there in
providing his loading and preparing for his voyage near three
months—when, telling him what little stock I had left behind
me in London, he gave me this friendly and sincere advice.
“ Seignor Inglese,” says he,—for so he always called me,—“ if you
will give me letters, and a procuration here in form to me, with
orders to the person who has your money in London, to send your
effects to Lisbon to such persons as I shall direct, and in such
goods as are proper for this country, I will bring you the produce
of them, God willing, at my return. But since human affairs are
all subject to changes and disasters, I would have you give orders
but for one hundred pounds sterling, which you say is half your
stock, and let the hazard be run for the first; so that if it come
A PROFITABLE INVESTMENT. 81

safe you may order the rest the same way, and if it miscarry you
may have the other half to have recourse to for your supply.”

This was so wholesome advice, and looked so friendly, that I
could not but be convinced it was the best course I could take; so
I accordingly prepared letters to the gentlewoman with whom I
had left my money, and a procuration to the Portuguese captain,
as he desired.

I wrote the English captain’s widow a full account of all my
adventures; my slavery, escape, and how I had met with the
Portuguese captain at sea, the humanity of his behaviour, and in
what condition I was now in, with all other necessary directions
for my supply. And when this honest captain came to Lisbon, he
found means, by some of the English merchants there, to send
over, not the order only, but a full account of my story, to a mer-
chant at London, who represented it effectually to her; whereupon
she not only delivered the money, but out of her own pocket sent
the Portuguese captain a very handsome present for his humanity
and charity to me.

The merchant in London, vesting this hundred pounds in
English goods such as the captain had written for, sent them
directly to him at Lisbon, and he brought them all safe to me to
the Brazils; among which, without my direction— for I was too
young in my business to think of them—he had taken care to
have all sorts of tools, iron-work, and utensils necessary for ay,
plantation, and which were of great use to me.

When this cargo arrived I thought my fortune made, for I was
surprised with joy of it; and my good steward the captain had
laid out the five pounds, which my friend had sent him for a
present for himself, to purchase and bring me over a servant under
bond for six years’ service, and would not accept of any considera-
tion except a little tobacco, which I would have him accept, being
of my own produce.

Neither was this all. But my goods being all English manu-
factures, such as cloth, stufis, bays, and things particularly valuable
and desirable in the country, I found means to sell them to a very
great advantage; so that I may say I had more than four times
the value of my first cargo, and was now infinitely beyond my

wae
88 A ROLLING STONE GATHERS NO MOSS.

poor neighbour—I mean in the advancement of my plantation ;
for the first thing Idid I bought me a negro slave, and a European
servant also—I mean another besides that which the captain
brought me from Lisbon.

But as abused prosperity is oftentimes made the very means of
our greatest adversity, so was it with me. I went on the next
year with great success in my plantation. I raised fifty great rolls
of tobacco on my own ground, more than I had disposed of for
necessaries among my neighbours; and these fifty rolls being each
of above a hundredweight, were well cured and laid by against the
return of the fleet from Lisbon. And now, increasing in business
and in wealth, my head began to be full of projects and under-
takings beyond my reach—such as are indeed often the ruin of
the best heads in business.

Had I continued in the station I was now in, I had room for all
the happy things to have yet befallen me for which my father so
earnestly recommended a quiet, retired life, and of which he had
so sensibly described the middle station of life to be full of. But
other things attended me, and I was still to be the wilful agent of
all my own miseries, and particularly to increase my fault and
double the reflections upon myself, which in my future sorrows I
should have leisure to make. All these miscarriages were pro-
eured by my apparent obstinate adherence to my foolish inclination
of wandering abroad, and pursuing that inclination in contradiction
to the clearest views of doing myself good in a fair and plain pur-
suit of those prospects and those measures of life which Nature
and Providence concurred to present me with and to make my
duty.

As I had once done thus in my breaking away from my parents,
so I could not be content now, but I must go and leave the happy
view I had of being a rich and thriving man in my new plantation,
only to pursue a rash and immoderate desire of rising faster than
the nature of the thing admitted; and thus I cast myself down
again into the deepest gulf of human misery that ever man fell
into, or perhaps could be consistent with life and a state of health
in the world.

To come, then, by the just degrees to the particulars of thie
TRADING IN NEGROES. 89

part of my story. You may suppose that having now lived almost
four years in the Brazils, and beginning to thrive and prosper very
well upon my plantation, I had not only learned the language, but
had contracted acquaintance and friendship among my fellow-
planters, as well as among the merchants at St. Salvadore, which was
our port; and that, in my discourses among them, I had frequently
given them an account of my two voyages to the coast of Guinea,
the manner of trading with the negroes there, and how easy it was
to purchase upon the coast for trifles—such as beads, toys, knives,
scissors, hatchets, bits of glass, and the like—not only gold dust,
Guinea grains, elephants’ teeth, &c., but negroes for the service of
the Brazils in great numbers.

They listened always very attentively to my discourses on these
heads, but especially to that part which related to the buying of
negroes ; which was a trade at that time not only not far entered
into, but, as far as it was, had been carried on by the assiento, or
permission of the Kings of Spain and Portugal, and engrossed in
the public; so that few negroes were brought, and those excessively
dear. )

It happened, being in company with some merchants and planters
of my acquaintance, and talking of those things very earnestly,
three of them came to ine the next morning, and told me they
had been musing very much upon what I had discoursed with
them of the last night, and they came to make a secret proposal
to me. And after enjoining me secrecy, they told me that they
had a mind to fit out a ship to go to Guinea; that they had all
plantations as well as I, and were straitened for nothing so much
as servants; that as it was a trade that could not be carried on,
because they could not publicly sell the negroes when they came
home, so they desired to make but one voyage, to bring the
negroes on shore privately, and divide them among their own
plantations ; and, in a word, the question was, whether I would
go their supercargo in the ship to manage the trading part upon
the coast of Guinea. And they offered me that I should have
wy equal share of the negroes, without providing any part of the
stock.

This was a fair proposal, it must be confessed, had it been made
90 CRUSOE AT SEA ONCE MORE.

to any one that had not had a settlement and plantation of his
own to look after, which was in a fair way of coming to be very
considerable, and with a good stock upon it. But for me that was
thus entered and established, and had nothing to do but go on as
I had begun for three or four years more, and to have sent for the
other hundred pounds from England, and who in that time, and
with that little addition, could scarce have failed of being worth
three or four thousand pounds sterling, and that increasing too,—
for me to think of such a voyage was the most preposterous thing
that ever man in such circumstances could be guilty of.

But I, that was born to be my own destroyer, could no more
resist the offer than I could restrain my first rambling designs
when my father’s good counsel was lost upon me. In a word, I
told them I would go with all my heart if they would undertake
to look after my plantation in my absence, and would dispose of
it to such as I should direct if I miscarried. This they all
engaged to do, and entered into writings or covenants to do so ;
and I made a formal will, disposing of my plantation and effects,
in case of my death, making the captain of the ship that had saved
my life, as before, my universal heir, but obliging him to dispose
of my effects as I had directed in my will—one-half of the pro-
duce being to himself, and the other to be shipped to England.
In short, I took all possible caution to preserve my effects and
keep up my plantation. Had I used half as much prudence to
have looked into my own interest, and have made a judgment of
what I ought to have done and not to have done, I had certainly
never gone away from so prosperous an undertaking—leaving all
the probable views of a thriving circumstance, and gone upon a
voyage to sea, attended with all its common hazards, to say
nothing of the reasons I had to expect particular misfortunes to
myself,

But I was hurried on, and obeyed blindly the dictates of my
fancy rather than my reason. And accordingly, the ship being
fitted out and the cargo furnished, and all things done as by
agreement by my partners in the voyage, I went on board in an
evil hour—the Ist of September 1659, being the same day eight
years that I went from my father and mother at Hull in order
PERILS OF THE DEEP. 91

to act the rebel to their authority and the fool to my own
interest.

Our ship was about 120 tons burden ; carried six guns and
fourteen men, besides the master, his boy, and myself. We had
on board no large cargo of goods, except of such toys as were fit
for our trade with the negroes—such as beads, bits of glass, shells
and odd trifles, especially little looking-glasses, knives, scissors,
hatchets, and the like.

The same day I went on board we set sail, standing away to
the northward upon our own coast, with design to stretch over for
the African coast when they came about 10 or 12 degrees of
northern latitude; which, it seems, was the manner of their course
in those days. We had very good weather, only excessively hot,
all the way upon our own coast, till we came the height of Cape
St. Augustino; from whence, keeping further off at sea, we lost
sight of land, and steered as if we were bound for the isle Fernand
de Noronha, holding our course north-east by north, and leaving
those isles on the east. In this course we passed the line in about
twelve days’ time; and were by our last observation in 7 degrees
22, minutes northern latitude, when a violent tornado or hurricane
took us quite out of our knowledge. It began from the south-
east, came about to the north-west, and then settled into the
north-east ; from whence it blew in such a terrible manner that
for twelve days together we could do nothing but drive, and ecud-
ding away before it, let it carry us whither ever fate and the fury
of the winds directed. And during these twelve days I need not
say that I expected every day to be swallowed up; nor, indeed,
did any in the ship expect to save their lives.

In this distress, we had, besides the terror of the storm, one of
our men died of the calenture, and one man and the boy washed
overboard. About the twelfth day, the weather abating a little,
the master made an observation as well as he could, and found
that he was in about 11 degrees north latitude, but that he
was 22 degrees of longitude difference west from Cape St.
Augustino; so that he found he was gotten upon the coast of
Guiana, or the north part of Brazil, beyond the River Amazon,
toward that of the River Orinoco, commonly called the Great
92 DRIVING ASHORE.

River, and began to consult with me what course he should take,
for the ship was leaky and very much disabled, and he was going
directly back to the coast of Brazil.

I was positively against thet; and looking over the charts of the
sea-coast of America with him, we concluded there was no inhabited
country for us to have recourse to till we came within the circle of
the Caribbean Islands, and therefore resolved to stand away for
Barbadoes; which, by keeping off at sea, to avoid the indraught of
the Bay or Gulf of Mexico, we might easily perform, as we hoped,
in about fifteen days’ sail; whereas we could not possibly make our
voyage to the coast of Africa without some assistance both to our
ship and to ourselves.

With this design we changed our course, and steered away
north-west by west, in order to reach some of our English islands,
where I hoped for relief. But our voyage was otherwise deter-
wnined; for, being in the latitude of 12 degrees 18 minutes, a
second storm came upon us, which carried us away with the same
impetuosity westward, and drove us so out of the very way of all
human commerce, that had all our lives been saved as to the sea,
we were rather in danger of being devoured by savages than ever
teturning to our own country.

In this distress, the wind still blowing very hard, one of our men
early in the morning cried out “Land!” and we had no sooner
run out of the cabin to look out in hopes of seeing whereabouts in
the world we were, but the ship struck upon a sand, and ina
moment, her motion being so stopped, the sea bruke over her in
such a manner, that we expected we should all have perished
immediately, and we were immediately driven into our close
quarters to shelter us from the very foam and spray of the sea.

It is not easy for any one who has not been in the like condition
to describe or conceive the consternation of men in such circum-
stances. We knew nothing where we were, or upon what land it
was we were driven, whether an island or the main, whether in-
habited or not inhabited; and as the rage of the wind was still
great, though rather less than at first, we could not so much as
hope to have the ship hold many minutes without breaking in
pieces, unless the wind by a kind of miracle should turn im-
A LONG PULL FOR LIFE. 93

mediately about. In a word, we sat looking one upon another,
and expecting death every moment, and every man acting accord-
ingly as preparing for another world, for there was little or
nothing more for us to do in this. That which was our present
comfort, and all the comfort we had, was that, contrary to our
expectation, the ship did not break yet, and that the master said
the wind began to abate.

Now, though we thought that the wind did a little abate, yet
the ship having thus struck upon the sand, and sticking too fast
for us to expect her getting off, we were in a dreadful condition
indeed, and had nothing to do but to think of saving our lives as
well as we could. We had a boat at our stern just before the
storm, but she was first staved by dashing against the ship’s rudder,
and in the next place she broke away, and either sunk or was
driven off to sea; so there was no hope from her. We had another
boat on board; but how to get her off into the sea was a doubtful
thing. However, there was no room to debate, for we fancied the
ship would break in pieces every minute, and some told us she was
actually broken already.

In this distress the mate of our vessel lays hold of the boat, and
with the help of the rest of the men, they got her slung over the
ship’s side, and getting all into her, let go, and committed our-
selves, being cleven in number, to God’s mercy and the wild sea:
for though the storm was abated considerably, yet the sea went
dreadfully high upon the shore, and might well be called “den
wild zee,” as the Dutch call the sea in a storm.

And now our case was very dismal indeed; for we all saw
plainly that the sea went so high that the boat could not live, and
that we should be inevitably drowned. As to making sail, we had
none; nor, if we had, could we have done anything with it: so we
worked at the oar towards the land, though with heavy hearts,
like men going to execution; for we all knew that when the boat
came nearer the shore she would be dashed ina thousand pieces by
the breach of the sea. However, we committed our souls to God
in the most earnest manner, and the wind driving us towards the
shore, we hastened our destruction with our own hands, pulling
a. well as we could towards land.
94 A MOUNTAIN WAVE.

 

‘oHE SEA WENT SO HIGH THAT THE BOAT COULD NOT LIVE.”

What the shore was—whether rock or sand, whether steep or
shoal—we knew not; the only hope that could rationally give us
the least shadow of expectation, was if we might happen into some
bay or gulf, or the mouth of some river, where by great chance we
might have run our boat in, or got under the lee of the land, and
perhaps made smooth water. But there was nothing of this
appeared; but as we made nearer and nearer the shore, the land
looked more frightful than the sea.

After we had rowed or rather driven about a league and a half,
as we reckoned it, a raging wave, mountain-like, came rolling
astern of us, and plainly bade us expect the cowp-de-grace. In a
CAST UPON THE ROCKS. 96

word, it took us with such a fury, that it overset the boat at once,
and separating us as well from the boat as from one another, gave
us not time hardly to say, O God! for we were all swallowed up
in a moment.

Nothing can describe the confusion of thought which I felt when
I sunk into the water; for though I swam very well, yet I could
not deliver myself from the waves so as to draw breath, till that a
wave, having driven me or rather carried me a vast way on towards
the shore, and having spent itself, went back, and left me upon
the land almost dry, but half dead with the water I took in. I
had so much presence of mind as well as breath left that, seeing
myself nearer the mainland than I expected, I ‘got upon my feet,
and endeavoured to make on towards the land as fast as I could
before another wave should return and take me up again. But |
soon found it was impossible to avoid it; for I saw the sea come
after me as high as a great hill, and as furious as an enemy which
UL had no means or strength to contend with. My business was to
hold my breath and raise myself upon the water if I could, and
so by swimming to preserve my breathing and pilot myself towards
the shore if possible; my greatest concern now being that the
sea, as it would carry me a great way towards the shore when it
came on, might not carry me back again with it when it gave back
towards the sea.

The wave that came upon me again buried me at once twenty
or thirty feet deep in its own body; and I could feel myself carried
with a mighty force and swiftness towards the shore a very great
way; but I held my breath, and assisted myself to swim still
forward with all my might. J was ready to burst with holding .
my breath, when, as I felt myself rising up, so to my immediate
relief I found my head and hands shoot out above the surface of
the water; and though it was not two seconds of time that I could
keep myself so, yet it relieved me greatly, gave me breath and
new courage. I was covered again with water a good while, but
not so long but I held it out; and finding the water had spent
itself and begun to return, I struck forward against the return of
the waves, and felt ground again with my feet. I stood still a few

moments to recover breath, and til] the water went from me, and
(284 7
96 A NARROW ESCAPE.

then took to my heels and ran with what strength I had further
towards the shore. But neither would this deliver me from the
fury of the sea, which came pouring in after me again, and twice
more I was lifted up by the waves and carried forward as before,
the shore being very flat.

The last time of these two had well near been fatal to me; for
the sea having hurried me along as before, landed me, or rather

   

“| WELD MY HOLD TILL THE
WAVE ABATED.”

dashed me, against a piece of a
rock, and that with such force, as it
left me senseless, and indeed help-
less, as to my own deliverance:
for the blow taking my side and
breast, beat the breath as it were
quite out of my body, and had it

 
CRUSOE IN SAFETY. 97

returned again immediately, I must have been strangled in the
water; but I recovered a little before the return of the waves,
and seeing I should be covered again with the water, I resolved
to hold fast by a piece of the rock, and so to hold my breath, if
possible, till the wave went back. Now as the waves were not
so high as at first, being near land, I held my hold till the wave
abated, and then fetched another run, which brought me so near
the shore, that the next wave, though it went over me, yet did not
so swallow me up as to carry me away; and the next run I took I
got to the mainland, where, to my great comfort, I clambered up
the cliffs of the shore and sat me down upon the grass, free from
danger, and quite out of the reach of the water.

 

 

 

 

 

  
 

WAS now landed, and safe on shore, and began
to look up and thank God that my life was
saved in a case wherein there was some minutes
before scarce any room to hope. I believe it
is impossible to express to the life what the
eestasies and transports of the soul are when
it is so saved, as I may say, out of the very

grave; and [ do not wonder now at that custom, namely, that

when a malefactor, who has the halter about his neck, is tied up,
and just going to be turned off, and has a reprieve brought to him

—I say, I do not wonder that they bring a surgeon with it, to let

him bleed that very moment they tell him of it, that the surprise

may not drive the animal spirits from the heart and overwhelm
him:

“For sudden joys, like griefs, confound at first.”

I walked about on the shore lifting up my hands, and iny whole
being, as I may say, wrapped up in the contemplation of my
deliverance, making a thousand gestures and motions which I
98 A REFUGE FOR THE NIGHT.

cannot describe, reflecting upon all my comrades that were drowned,
and that there should not be one soul saved but myself; for, as for
them, I never saw them afterwards, or any sign of them, except
three of their hats, one cap, and two shoes that were not fellows.

TI cast my eyes to the stranded vessel, when the breach and froth
of the sea being so big, I could hardly see it, it lay so far off,
and considered, “Lord, how was it possible I could get on
shore?”

After I had solaced my mind with the comfortable part of my
condition, I began to look round me to see what kind of place I
was in, and what was next to be done, and I soon found my com-
forts abate, and that in a word I had a dreadful deliverance ; for I
was wet, had no clothes to shift me, nor anything cither to eat or
drink to comfort me, neither did I see any prospect before me
but that of perishing with hunger, or being devoured by wild
beasts. And that which was particularly afflicting to me was, that
I had no weapon either to hunt and kill any creature for my
sustenance, or to defend myself against any other creature that
might desire to kill me for theirs;—in a word, I had nothing
about me but a knife, a tobacco-pipe, and a little tobacco ina box.
This was all my provision, and this threw me into terrible agonies
of mind, that for a while I ran about like a madman. Night
coming upon me, I began with a heavy heart to consider what
would be my lot if there were any ravenous beasts in that country,
seeing at night they always come abroad for their prey.

All the remedy that offered to my thoughts at that time was,
to get up into a thick bushy tree like a fir, but thorny, which grew
near me, and where I resolved to sit all night, and consider the
next day what death I should die; for as yet I saw no prospect of
life. I walked about a furlong from the shore to see if I could find
any fresh water to drink, which I did, to my great joy; and
having drunk, and put a little tobacco in my mouth to prevent
hunger, I went to the tree, and getting up into it, endeavoured to
place myself so as that if I should sleep I might not fall; and
having cut me a short stick like a truncheon for my defence, |
took up my lodging, and having been excessively fatigued, I fell
fast asleep, and slept as comfortahly as, I believe, few could have

Z
THE NEXT MORNING, 39

 

 

“80 AS THAT IF I SHOULD SLEEP I MIGHT NOT FALL.”

done in my condition, and found myself the most refreshed with
it that I think I ever was on such an occasion.

When I waked it was broad day, the weather clear, and the
storm abated, so that the sea did not rage and swell as before; but
that which surprised me most was, that the ship was lifted off in
the night from the sand where she lay by the swelling of the tide,
and was driven up almost as far as the rock which I first mentioned,
where I had been so bruised by the dashing me against it; this
being within about a mile from the shore where I was, and the
ship seeming to stand upright still, I wished myself on board, that
at least I might have some necessary things for my use.

When I came down from my apartment in the tree, I looked
about me again, and the first thing I found was the boat, which
lay as the wind and the sea had tossed her up upon the land, about
two miles on my right hand. I walked as far as I could upon the
shore to have got to her, but found a neck or inlet of water
between me and the boat which was about half a mile broad; so I
came back for the present, being more intent upon getting at the
ship, where I hoped to find something for my present subsistence.

A little after noon I found the sea very calm. and the tide
100 SWIMMING TO THE WRECK,

ebbed so far out that I could come within a quarter of a mile oj
the ship. And here I found a fresh renewing of my grief; for I saw
evidently that if we had kept on board we had been all safe—
that is to say, we had all got safe on shore, and I had not been so
miserable as to be left entirely destitute of all comfort and
company as I now was. This forced tears from my eyes again,
but as there was little relief in that, I resolved. if possible, to get

 

“COULD COME WITHIN A QUARTER OF A MILE OF THE SHIP.”

to the ship; so I pulled off my clothes, for the weather was hot to
extremity, and took the water. But when I came to the ship, my
difficulty was still greater to know how to get on board; for as she
lay a-ground and high out of the water, there was nothing within
my reach to lay hold of. I swam round her twice, and the second
time I spied a small piece of a rope, which I wondered I did not
see at first, hang down by the fore-chains so low as that with
great difficulty I got hold of it, and by the help of that rope got
MAKING A RAFT, 101

up intu the forecastle of the ship. Here I found that the ship was
bulged, and had a great deal of water in her hold, but that she lay
so on the side of a bank of hard sand, or rather carth, that her
stern lay lifted up upon the bank, and her head low almost to the
water. By this means all her quarter was free, and all that was
in that part was dry; for you may be sure my first work was to
search and to see what was spoiled and what was free. And first I
found that all the ship’s provisions were dry and untouched by the
water, and being very well disposed to eat, I went to the bread-
room and filled my pockets with biscuit, and ate it as I went about
other things, for I had no time to lose. I also found some rum
in the great cabin, of which I took a large dram, and which J had
indeed need enough of to spirit me for what was before me. Now
T wanted nothing but a boat to furnish myself with many things
which I foresaw would be very necessary to me.

Tt was in vain to sit still and wish for what was not to be had,
and this extremity roused my application. We had several spare
yards, and two or three large spars of wood, and a spare top-mast
or two in the ship. I resolved to fall to work with these, and
flung as many of them overboard as I could manage for their
weight, tying every one with a rope that they might not drive
away. When this was done, I went down the ship’s side, and pull-
ing them to me, I tied four of them fast together at both ends as
well as I could, in the form of a raft, and laying two or three
short pieces of plank upon them crossways, I found I could walk
upon it very well, but that it was not able to bear any great weight,
the pieces being too light. So I went to work, and with the
carpenter’s saw I cut a spare top-mast into three lengths, and added
them to my raft, with a great deal of labour and pains; but hope
of furnishing myself with necessaries encouraged me to go beyond
what I should have been able to have done upon another occasion.

My raft was now strong enough to bear any reasonable weight.
My next care was what to load it with, and how to preserve what
I laid upon it from the surf of the sea. But I was not long con-
sidering this. I first laid all the planks or boards upon it that I
could get, and having considered well what I most wanted, I first
got three of the seamen’s chests, which I had broken open and
102 THE FIRST CARGO.

emptied, and lowered them down upon my raft. The first of these 1
namely, bread, rice, three Dutch cheeses, five
pieces of dried goat’s flesh, which we lived much upon, and a little

 

filled with provisions

remainder of European corn which had been laid by for some fowls
which we brought to sea with us; but the fowls were killed.
There had been some barley and wheat together, but to my great
disappointment I found afterwards that the rats had eaten or
spoiled it all. As for liquors, I found several cases of bottles
belonging to our skipper, in which were some cordial waters, and
in all about five or six gallons of rack. These I stowed by them-
selves, there being no need to put them into the chest, and no room
for them. While I was doing this I found the tide began to flow,
though very calm, and I had the mortification to see my coat, shirt,
and waistcoat, which I had left on shore upon the sand swim away,
as for my breeches, which were only linen and open-kneed, I swam
on board in them and my stockings. However, this put me on
rummaging for clothes, of which I found enough, but took no
more than I wanted for present use, for I had other things which
my eye was more upon—as, first, tools to work with on shore;
and it was after long searching that I found out the carpenter’s
chest, which was indeed a very useful prize to me, and much more
valuable than a ship loading of gold would have been at that time.
I got it down to my raft even whole as it was, without losing time
to look into it, for I knew in general what it contained.

My next care was for some ammunition and arms. There were
two very good fowling-picces in the great cabin, and two pistols;
these I secured first, with some powder-horns, and a small bag of
shot, and two old rusty swords. I knew there were three barrels
of powder in the ship, but knew not where our gunner had stowed
them; but with much search I found them, two of them dry and
good, the third had taken water. Those two I got to my raft
with the arms; and now I thought myself pretty well freighted,
and began to think how I should get to shore with them, having
neither sail, oar, nor rudder, and the least capful of wind would have
overset all my navigation.

I had three encouragements—first, a smooth calm sea; second,
the tide rising and setting in to the shore; third, what little wind
STEERING FOR SHORE, 108

there was blew me towards the land. And thus, having found
two or three broken oars belonging to the boat, and besides the
tools which were in the chest, I found two saws, an axe, and a

 

FOR A MILE OR THEREABOUTS MY RAFT WENT
VERY WELL.”

 
 
  
 

hammer, and with this cargo I put to sea.
Vor a mile, or thereabouts, my raft went
very well, only that I found it drive a
little distant from the place where I had
landed before; by which I perceived that there was some indraught
of the water, and consequently I hoped to find some creek or

tiver there, which I might make use of asa port to get to land
with my cargo.

 

As T imagined, so it was. There appeared before me a little
104 THE RAFT SAFELY MOORED.

opening of the land, and I found a strong current of the tide set
into it; so I guided my raft as well as I could to keep in the
middle of the stream. But here I had like to have suffered a
second shipwreck, which if I had, I think verily would have broken
my heart; for, knowing nothing of the coast, my raft ran aground
at one end of it upon a shoal, and not being aground at the other
end, it wanted but a little that all my cargo had slipped off towards
that end that was afloat, and so fallen into the water. I did my
utmost, by setting my back against the chests, to keep them in
their places, but could not thrust off the raft with all my strength,
neither durst I stir from the posture I was in, but holding up the
chests with all my might, stood in that manner near half an hour,
in which time the rising of the water brought me a little more
upon a level; and a little after, the water still rising, my raft
floated again, and I thrust her off with the oar I had into the
channel, and then driving up higher, I at length found myself in
the mouth of a little river, with land on both sides, and a strong
current or tide running up. I looked on both sides for a proper
place to get to shore, for I was not willing to be driven too high up
the river, hoping in time to see some ship at sea, and therefore
resolved to place myself as near the coast as I could.

At length I spied a little cove on the right shore of the creek,
to which with great pain and difliculty I guided my raft, and at
last got so near as that, reaching ground with my oar, I could
thrust her directly in. But here I had like to have dipped all my
cargo in the sea again; for that shore lying pretty steep—that is to
say, sloping—there was no place to land, but where one end of my
float if it ran on shore, would lie so high, and the other sink lower
as before, that it would endanger my cargo again. All that I
could do was to wait till the tide was at the highest, keeping the
raft with my oar like an anchor to hold the side of it fast to the
shore, near a flat piece of ground, which I expected the water
would flow over; and so it did. As soon as I found water enough
—for my raft drew about a foot of water—I thrust her on upon
that flat piece of ground, and there fastened or moored her by
sticking my two broken oars into the ground, one on one side near
one end, and one on the other side near the other end; and thus I
A TOUR OF DISCOVERY, 106

lay till the water ebbed away, and left my raft and all iy cargo
sare On shore.

My next work was to view the country, and seck a proper place
for my habitation, and where to stow my goods to secure them
from whacever might happen. Where I was I yet knew not,
whether on the continent or on an island, whether inhabited or
not inhabited, whether in danger of wild beasts or not. There
was a hill not above a mile from me, which rose up very steep and
high, and which seemed to overtop some other hills which lay as
in a ridge from it northward. I took out one of the fowling-pieces
and one of the pistols, and a horn of powder, and thus armed I
travelled for disvovery up to the top of that hill, where, after I had
with great labour and difficulty got to the top, I saw my fate to
iny great affliction—namely, that I was in an island environed
every way with the sea, no land to be seen, except some rocks
which lay a great way off, and two small islands, less than this,
which lay about three leagues to the west.

I found also that the island I was in was barren, and, as I saw
good reason to believe, uninhabited, except by wild beasts—of
which, however, I saw none; yet I saw abundance of fowls, but
knew not their kinds, neither when I killed them could I tell what
was fit for food, and what not. At my coming back, I shot at a
great bird which I saw sitting upon a tree on the side of a great
wood. I believe it was the first gun that had been fired there
since the creation of the world. I had no sooner fired, but from all
the parts of the wood there arose an innumerable number of fowls
of many sorts, making a confused screaming, and crying every one
according to his usual note; but not one of them of any kind that
Iknew. As for the creature I killed, I took it to be a kind of a
hawk, its colour and beak resembling it, but it had no talons or
claws more than common ; its flesh was carrion, and fit for nothing.

Contented with this discovery, 1 came back to my raft, and fell
to work to bring my cargo on shore, which took me up the rest
of that day. But what to do with myself at night I knew not, nor
indeed where to rest; for I was afraid to lie down on the ground,
not knowing but some wild beast might devour me, though, as I
alterwards found, there was really no need for those fears.
106 A SECOND VISIT TO THE WRECK,

However, as well as I could, I barricaded myself round with the
chests and boards that I had brought on shore, and made a kind of
hut for that night’s lodging. As for food, I yet saw not which
way to supply myself, except that I had seen two or three crea-
tures like hares run out of the wood where I shot the fowl.

I now began to consider that I might yet get a great many
things out of the ship which would be useful to me, and particu-
larly some of the rigging and sails, and such other things as might
come to land; and I resolved to make another voyage on board
the vessel, if possible; and as I knew that the first storm that
blew must necessarily break her all in pieces, I resolved to set all
other things apart, until I got everything out of the ship that I
could get. Then I called a council—that is to say, in my thoughts
—whether I should take back the raft; but this appeared imprac-
ticable. So I resolved to go as before, when the tide was down;
and I did so, only that I stripped before I went from my hut,
having nothing on but a checkered shirt, and a pair of linen
drawers, and a pair of pumps on my feet. I got on board the ship
as before, and prepared a second raft; and having had experience of
the first, I neither made this so unwieldy nor loaded it so hard,
but yet I brought away several things very useful to me. As first,
in the carpenter’s stores, I found two or three bags full of nails and
spikes, a great screw-jack, a dozen or two of hatchets, and, above
all, that most useful thing called a grind-stone. All these I secured
together, with several things belonging to the gunner, particularly
tivo or three iron crows, and two barrels of musket-bullets, seven
muskets, and another fowling-piece, with some small quantity of
powder more, a large bag full of small shot, and a great roll of
sheet lead. But this last was so heavy I could not hoist it up to
get it over the ship’s side.

Besides these things, I took all the men’s clothes that I could
find, and a spare fore-topsail, a hammock and some bedding; and
with this I loaded my second raft, and brought them all safe on
shore, to my very great comfort.

I was under some apprehensions during my absence from the
land that at least my provisions might be devoured on shore ; but
when I came back I found no sign of any visitor, only there sat a
CRUSOE’S POSSESSIONS. 107

creature like a wild cat upon one of the chests, which, when I came
towards it, ran away a little distance, and then stood still. She sat
very composed and unconcerned, and looked full in my face, as if
she had a mind to be acquainted with me. I presented my gun at
her, but as she did not understand it, she was perfectly uncon-
cerned at it, nor did she offer to stir away. Upon which I tossed
her a bit of biscuit—though, by the way, I was not very free of it,
for my store was not great. However, I spared her a bit, I say,
and she went to it, smelled of it, and ate it, and looked, as pleased,
for more; but I thanked her, and could spare no more. So she
marched off.

Having got my second cargo on shore, though I was fain to
open the barrels of powder, and bring them by parcels—for they
were too heavy, being large casks—I went to work to make mea
little tent with the sail and some poles which I cut for that pur-
pose; and into this tent I brought everything that I knew would
spoil cither with rain or sun, and I piled all the empty chests and
casks up in a cirele round the tent, to fortify it from any sudden
attempt cither from man or beast.

When I had done this, I blocked up the door of the tent with
some boards within, and an empty chest set up an end without,
and spreading one of the beds upon the ground, laying my two
pistols just at my head, and my gun at length by me, I went to
bed for the first time, and slept very quictly all night, for I was
very weary and heavy; for the night before I had slept little, and
had laboured very hard all day, as well to fetch all those things
from the ship as to get them on shore.

I had the biggest magazine of all kinds now that ever were laid
up, I believe, for one man; but I was not satisfied still, for while
the ship sat upright in that posture, I thought I ought to get
everything out of her that I could; so every day at low water I
went on board, and brought away some thing or other. But par-
ticularly the third time I went I brought away as much of the
rigging as I could, as also all the small ropes and rope-twine I
could get, with a piece of spare canvas, which was to mend the
sails upon occasion, the barrel of wet gunpowder; in a word, I
brought away all the sails first and last, only that I was fain to
108 CLEARING OUT THE WRECK.

cut them in pieces, and bring as much at a time as I could,
for they were no more useful to be sails, but as mere canvas
only.

But that which comforted me more still was, that at last of all,
after I had made five or six such voyages as these, and thought I
had nothing more to expect from the ship that was worth my
meddling with—I say, after all this, I found a great hogshead of
bread, and three large runlets of rum or spirits, and a box of sugar,
and a barrel of fine flour. This was surprising to me, because I
had given over expecting any more provisions, excepting what was
spoiled by the water. I soon emptied the hogshead of that bread,
and wrapped it up parcel by parcel in pieces of the sails, which I
cut out; and in a word, I got all this safe on shore also.

The next day I made another voyage, and now having plundered
the ship of what was portable and fit to hand out, I began with
the cables ; and cutting the great cable into picces such as I could
move, I got two cables and a hawser on shore, with all the iron-
work I could get; and having cut down the spritsail-yard, and the
mizzen-yard, and everything I could to make a large raft, T loaded
it with all those heavy goods, and came away. But my good luck
began now to leave me; for this raft was so unwieldy and so over-
loaden, that after I was entered the little cove where I had landed
the rest of my goods, not being able to guide it so handily as I
did the other, it overset, and threw me and all my cargo into the
water, As for myself it was no great harm, for I was near the
shore; but as to my cargo, it was great part of it lost, especially
the iron, which I expected would have been of great use to me.
However, when the tide was out, I got most of the pieces of cable
ashore and some of the iron, though with infinite labour; for I
was fain to dip for it into the water, a work which fatigued me
very much. After this I went every day on board, and brought
away what I could get.

I had been now thirteen days on shore, and had been eleven
times on board the ship, in which time { had brought away all
that one pair of hands could well be suvposed capable to bring;
though I believe verily, had the calm weather held, I should have
brought away the whole ship piece by piece. But preparing the
MONEY A DRUG. 109

twelfth time to go on board, I found the wind begin to rise. How-
ever, at low water I went on board; and though I thought I had
rummaged the cabin so effectually as that nothing more could be
found, yet I discovered a locker with drawers in it, in one of which
I found two or three razors and one pair of large scissors, with
some ten or a dozen of good knives and forks; in another I found
about thirty-six pounds value in money, some European coin, some
Brazil, some pieces of eight, some gold, some silver.

I smiled to myself at the sight of this money. “O drug!” said
T aloud, “ what art thon good for? Thou art not worth to me, no
not the taking off of the ground; one of these knives is worth all
this heap. I have no manner of use for thee; even remain where
thou art, and go to the bottom as a creature whose life is not worth
saving.” However, upon second thoughts, I took it away, and
wrapping all this in a piece of canvas, I began to think of making
another raft; but while I was preparing this, I found the sky over-
cast, and the wind began to rise, and in a quarter of an hour it
blew a fresh gale from the shore. It presently occurred to me
that it was in vain to pretend to make a raft with the wind olf
shore, and that it was my business to be gone before the tide of
flood began, otherwise I might not be able to reach the shore at
all. Accordingly I let myself down into the water, and swam
across the channel which lay between the ship and the sands, and
even that with difficulty enough, partly with the weight of the
things I had about me, and partly the roughness of the water, for
the wind rose very hastily, and before it was quite high water it
blew a storm.

But I was gotten home to my little tent, where I lay with all
my wealth about me very secure. It blew very hard all that night;
and in the morning when I looked out, behold, no more ship was
to be seen! I was a little surprised, but recovered myself with this
satisfactory reflection, namely, that I had lost no time, nor abated
diligence to get everything out of her that could be useful to me,
and that indeed there was little left in her that I was able to bring
away, if I had had more time.

T now gave over any more thoughts of the ship, or of anything
out of her, except what might drive on shore from her wreck, as
110 PROVIDING FOR FUTURE DEFENCE.

 

= ACCORDINGLY I LET MYSELF DOWN INTO THE WATER.”

indeed divers pieces of her afterwards did; but those things were
of small use to me.

My thoughts were now wholly employed about securing myself
against either savages, if any should appear, or wild beasts, if any
were in the island; and I had many thoughts of the method how
to do this, and what kind of dwelling to make, whether I should
make me a cave in the earth, or a tent upon the earth. And, in
short, I resolved upon both, the manner and description of which
it may not be improper to give an account of.
CRUSOE’S ENCAMPMENT. 11)

I svon found the place I was in was not for my settlement, par-
ticularly because it was upon a low moorish ground near the sea,
and I believed would not be wholesome, and more particularly be-
cause there was no fresh water near it; so I resolved to find a more
healthy and more convenient spot of ground.

I consulted several things in my situation which I found would
be proper for me. First, health, and fresh water I just now men-
tioned. Secondly, shelter from the heat of the sun. Thirdly, se-
curity from ravenous creatures, whether men or beasts. Fourthly, a
view to the sea, that if God sent any ship in sight I might not
lose any advantage for my deliverance, of which I was not willing
to banish all my expectation yet.

In search of a place proper for this, I found a little plain on the
side of a rising hill, whose front towards this little plain was steep
as a house-side, so that nothing could come down upon me from
the top. On the side of this rock there was a hollow place worn
a little way in like the entrance or door of a cave; but there was
not really any cave or way into the rock at all.

On the flat of the green, just before this hollow place, I resolved
to pitch my tent. This plain was not above an hundred yards
broad, and about twice as long, and lay like a green before my
door, and at the end of it descended irregularly every way down
into the low grounds by the sea-side. It was on the north-north-
west side of the hill, so that I was sheltered from the heat every
day till it came to a west and by south sun, or thereabouts, which
in those countries is near the setting.

Before I set up my tent, I drew a half-circle before the hollow
place, which took in about ten yards in its semi-diameter from the
rock, and twenty yards in its diameter from its beginning and
ending.

In this half-circle I pitched two rows of strong stakes, driving
them into the ground till they stood very firm like piles, the biggest
end being out of the ground about five feet and a half, and sharp-
ened on the top. The two rows did not stand above six inches
from one another.

Then I took the pieces of cable which I had cut in the ship, and

laid them in rows one upon another within the circle, between
(284) &
112 “ PATIENCE AND PERSEVERANCE,”

 

 

    

DRIVING THEM INTO THE
GROUND TILL THEY sTOOD
VERY FIRM.”

 

these two rows of stakes, up to the top, placing other stakes in
the inside, leaning against them, about two feet and a half high,
like a spur to a post; and this fence was so strong that neither man
nor beast could get into it or over it. ‘This cost me a great deal of
time and labour, especially to cut the piles in the wood, bring them
to the place, and drive them into the earth.

The entrance into this place | made to be, not by a door, but by
a short ladder to go over the top; which ladder, when I was in, I
lifted over after me. And so I was completely fenced in and forti-
 

A POSSIBLE DANGER, 118

fied, as I thought, from all the world, and consequently slept
secure in the night, which otherwise I could not have done; though,
as it appeared afterwards, there was no need of all this caution from
the enemies that I apprehended danger from.

Into this fence or fortress, with infinite labour, I carried all my
riches, all my provisions, ammunition, and stores, of which you
have the account above. And [ made me a large tent, which, to
preserve ine from the rains that in one part of the year are very
violent there, I made double - namely, one smaller tent within, and
one larger tent above it, and covered the uppermost with a large
tarpaulin which I had saved among the sails.

And now I Jay no more for a while in the bed which I had
brought on shore, but in a hammock; which was indeed a very good
one, and belonged to the mate of the ship.

Into this tent I brought all my provisions and everything that
would spoil by the wet; and having thus enclosed all my goods I
made up the entrance, which till now I had left open, and so passed
and repassed, as I said, by a short ladder.

When I had done this, I began to work my way into the rock,
and bringing all the earth and stones that [ dug down out through
my tent, L laid them up within my fence in the nature of a terrace,
that so it raised the ground within about a foot and a half; and
thus [ made me a cave just behind my tent, which served me like
a cellar to my house.

Tt cost me much labour and many days before all these things
were brought to perfection, and therefore I must go back to some
other things which took up some of my thoughts. At the same
time it happened after I had laid my scheme for the setting up my
tent, and making the cave, that a storm of rain falling from a thick
dark cloud, a sudden flash of lightning happened, and after that 4
great clap of thunder, as is naturally the effect of it. I was not
so much surprised with the lightning as I was with a thought
which darted into my mind as swift as the lightning itself—Oh,
my powder! My very heart sunk within me when I thought that
at one blast all my powder might be destroyed, on which not my
defence only, but the providing me food, as I thought, entirely
depended. I was nothing near so anxious about my own danger.
114 KILLING A SHE-GOAT.

though had the powder taken fire, I had never known who had
hurt me.

Such impression did this make upon me, that after the storm
was over I laid aside all my works, my building and fortifying, and
applied myself to make bags and boxes to separate the powder and
keep it a little and a little in a parcel, in hope that whatever might
come it might not all take fire at once, and to keep it so apart that
it should not be possible to make one part fire another. I finished
this work in about a fortnight; and I think my powder, which in
all was about two hundred and forty pounds weight, was divided
in not less than a hundred parcels. As to the barrel that had been
wet, I did not apprehend any danger from that ; so I placed it in
my new cave, which in my fancy I called my kitchen, and the rest
I hid up and down in holes among the rocks, so that no wet might
come to it, marking very carefully where I laid it.

Tn the interval of time while this was doing I went out once at
least every day with my gun, as well to divert myself as to see if I
could kill anything fit for food, and as near as IT could to acquaint
myself with what the island produced, The first time I went out
I presently discovered that there were goats in the island—which
was a great satisfaction to me; but then it was attended with this
misfortune, namely, that they were so shy, so subtile, and so
swift of foot, that it was the difficultest thing in the world to come
at them. But I was not discouraged at this, not doubting but I
might now and then shoot one, as it soon happened; for after I
had found their haunts a little, I laid wait in this manner for them:
I observed if they saw me in the valleys, though they were upon
the rocks, they would run away as in a terrible fright; but if they
were feeding in the valleys, and I was upon the rocks, they took
no notice of me: from whence I concluded that by the position of
their optics their sight was so directed downward that they did
not readily see objects that were above them. So afterwards I took
this method, I always climbed the rocks first, to get above them,
and then had frequently a fair mark. The first shot I made among
these creatures I killed a she-goat which had a little kid by her
which she gave suck to, which grieved me heartily. But when the
old one fell the kid stood stock-still by her till I came and took
ARGUMENTS PRO AND CON. 116

her up; and not only so, but when I carried the old one with me
upon my shoulders, the kid followed me quite to my enclosure:
upon which I laid down the dam and took the kid in my arms,
and carried it over my pale, in hopes to have bred it up tame; but
it would not eat, so I was forced to kill it and eat it myself. These
two supplied me with flesh a great while, for I ate sparingly, and
saved my provisions (my bread especially) as much as possibly I
could,

Having now fixed my habitation, I found it absolutely necessary
to provide a place to make a fire in, and fuel to burn; and what I
did for that, as also how I enlarged my cave and what conveniences
I made, I shall give a full account of in its place. But I must
first give some little account of myself and of my thoughts about
living, which it may well be supposed were not a few.

I had a dismal prospect of my condition; for as I was not cast
away upon that island without being driven, as is said, by a violent
storm quite out of the course of our intended voyage, and a great
way, namely, some hundreds of leagues, out of the ordinary course
of the trade of mankind, I had great reason to consider it as a
determination of Heaven that in this desolate place and in this
desolate manner I should end my life. The tears would run plenti-
fully down my face when I made these reflections ; and sometimes
I would expostulate with myself why Providence should thus com-
pletely ruin its creatures and render them so absolutely miserable,
so without help abandoned, so entirely depressed, that it could
hardly be rational to be thankful for such a life.

But something always returned swift upon me to check these
thoughts and to reprove me; and particularly one day, walking
with my gun in my hand by the sea-side, I was very pensive upon
the subject of my present condition, when reason, as it were, ex-
postulated with me the other way, thus: Well, you are in a deso-
late condition it is true, but pray remember, where are the rest of
you? Did not you come eleven of you into the boat,—where are
the ten? Why were not they saved and you lost? Why were
you singled out? Is it better to be here or there ?—and then I
pointed to the sea. All evils are to be considered with the good
that is in them, and with what worse attends them.
116 CRUSOE’S ACTUAL CONDITION.

Then it occurred to me again how well I was furnished for my
subsistenve, and what would have been my case if it had not
happened, which was an hundred thousand to one, that the ship
floated from the place where she first struck, and was driven so
near to the shore that I had time to get all those things out of
her. What would have been my case if I had been to have lived
in the condition in which I at first came on shore, without
necessaries of life, or necessaries to supply and procure them ?
Particularly, said I aloud (though to myself), what should I have
done without a gun, without ammunition; without any tools to
make anything, or to work with; without clothes, bediling, a tent,
or any manner of covering; and that now I had all these to a
sufficient quantity, and was in a fair way to provide myself in such
a manner, as to live without my gun when my ammunition was
spent; so that I had a tolerable view of subsisting without any
want as long as I lived: for I considered from the beginning how
I would provide for the accidents that might happen, and for the
time that was to come, even not only after my ammunition should
be spent, but even after my health or strength should decay.

T confess I had not entertained any notion of my ammunition
being destroyed at one blast—I mean my powder being blown up
by lightning

 

and this made the thoughts of it so surprising to
me when it lightened and thundered, as I observed just now.

And now being to enter into a melancholy relation of a scene of
silent life, such perhaps as was never heard of in the world before,
I shall take it from its beginning, and continue it in its order, It
was, by my account, the 50th of September when, in the manner
as above said, I first set foot upon this horrid island, when the sun
being, to us, in its autumnal equinox, was almost just over my
head; for I reckoned myself, by observation, to be in the latitude
of 9 degrees 22 minutes north of the line.

After I had been there about ten or twelve days it came into
my thoughts that I should lose my reckoning of time for want of
books and pen and ink, and should even forget the Sabbath
days from the working days; but, to prevent this, I cut it with my
knife upon a large post, in capital letters, and making it into a
great cross, I set it up on the shore where I first landed—namely,
A NOVEL ALMANAC, 117

I cAMs ON SHORE HERE ON THE
30ru or SupremBer 1659. Upon
the sides of this square post I

 
   
  
 
 
  

cut every day a notch with my
knife, and every seventh notch
was as long again as the rest, and
every first day of the month

as long again as that long one,

“7 cur EVERY DAY A NOTCH WITH MY KNIFE.”

and thus I kept my calendar, or weekly, monthly and yearly
reckoning of time.

In the next place we are to observe, that among the many
things which I brought out of the ship in the several voyages
which, as above mentioned, I made to it, I got several things of
less value, but not all less useful to me, which I omitted setting
118 THINGS SAVED, AND THINGS WANTED.

down before; as, in particular, pens, ink, and paper, several parcels
in the captain’s, mate’s, zunner’s, and carpenter’s keeping, three or
four compasses, some mathematical instruments, dials, perspectives,
charts, and books of navigation; all which I huddled together,
whether I might want them or no. Also, I found three very good
Bibles, which came to me in my cargo from Nngland, and which
Thad packed up among my things; some Portuguese books also.
and among them two or three Popish prayer-books, and several
other books; all which I carefully secured. And I must not forget
that we had in the ship a dog and two cats, of whose eminent
history I may have occasion to say something in its place: for I
carried both the cats with me; and as for the dog, he jumped out
of the ship of himself, and swam on shore to me the day after I
went on shore with my first cargo, and was a trusty servant to me
many years. I wanted nothing that he could fetch me, nor any
company that he could make up to me; I only wanted to have him
talk to me, but that he would not do. As I observed before, I found
pen, ink, and paper, and L husbanded them to the utmost; and 1
shall show that, while my ink lasted, IT kept things very exact;
but after that was gone I could not, for IT could not make any ink
by any means that I could devise.

And this put me in mind that I wanted many things, notwith-
standing all that I had amassed together ; and of these, this of ink
was one; as also spade, pick-axe and shovel, to dig or remove the
earth; needles, pins, and thread; as for linen, I soon learned to
want that without much difficulty.

This want of tools made every work I did go on heavily, and it
was near a whole year before I had entirely finished my little pale
or surrounded habitation. The piles or stakes, which were as
heavy as I could well lift, were a long time in cutting and pre-
paring in the woods, and more by far in bringing home; so that T
spent sometimes two days in cutting and bringing home one of
those posts, and a third day in driving it into the ground: for
which purpose I got a heavy piece of wood at first, but at last be-
thought myself of one of the iron crows; which, however, though
I found it, yet it made driving those posts or piles very laborious
and tedious work.
A DEBTOR AND CREDITOR ACCOUNT. 119

But what need I have been concerned at the tediousness of any-
thing I had to do, sceing I had time enough to do it in, nor had
I any other employment if that had been over, at least that I
could foresee, except the ranging the island to seek for food, which
I did more or less every day.

I now began to consider seriously my condition, and the circum-
stance I was reduced to, and I drew up the state of my affairs in
writing, not so much to leave them to any that were to come after
me, for I was like to have but few heirs, as to deliver my thoughts
from daily poring upon them, and afflicting my mind; and as my
reason began now to master my despondency, I began to comfort
myself as well as I could, and to set the good against the evil, that
I might have something to distinguish my case from worse; and I
stated it very impartially, like debtor and creditor, the comforts I
enjoyed against the miseries I suffered, thus :—

vit. Goop.

Tam cast upon a horrible desolate
island, void of ail hope of recovery.

Tam singled out and separated as
it were. from all the world, to be
miserable.

I am divided from mankind, a
solitaire, one banished from human
society.

T have not clothes to cover me.

Iam without any defence or means
to resist any violence of man or beast.

I have no soul to speak to, or re-
lieve me.

But I am alive, and not drowned,
as al] my ship’s company was.

But Iam singled out, too, from all
the ship’s crew to be spared from
death; and He that miraculously
saved me from death can deliver me
from this condition.

But I am not starved, and perish-
ing on a barren place, affording no
sustenance,

But I am ina hot climate, where,
if I had clothes, I could hardly wear
them.

But I am cast on an island where
I see no wild beasts to hurt me, as |
saw on the coast of Africa; and what
if I had been shipwrecked there?

But God wonderfully sent the ship
in near enough to the shore, that 1]
have gotten out so many necessary
things as will either supply my wants,
or enable me to supply myself even
as long as I live.

Upon the whole, here was an undoubted testimony that there
120 LIFE’S GOOD OUTBALANCES LIFE’S ILL.

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=e ISET MYSELF TO ENLARGE MY CAVE AND WORKS FURTUER
INTO THE EARTI.”

Was scarce any condition in the world so miserable, but there was
something negative or something positive to be thankful for in it;
and let this stand as a direction from the experience of the most
miserable of all conditions in this world, that we may always find
in it something to comfort ourselves from, and to set in the descrip-
tion of good and eyil, on the credit side of the account.

Having now brought my mind a little to relish my condition,
and given over looking out to sea, to see if I could spy a ship; J
CRUSOE AS CABINET-MAKER. 12)

say, giving over these things, I began to apply myself to accoimmo-
date my way of living, and to make things as easy to measI could.

T have already described my habitation, which was a tent under
the side of a rock, surrounded with a strong pale of posts and
cables; but I might now rather call it a wall, for I raised a kind of
wall up against it of turfs, about two feet thick on the outside; and
after some time, I think it was a year and a half, I raised rafters
from it leaning to the rock, and thatched or covered it with
boughs of trees, and such things as I could get to keep out the
rain, which I found at some times of the year very violent.

I have already observed how I brought all my goods into this
pale, and into the cave which I had made behind me; but J must
observe, too, that at first this was a confused heap of goods, which,
as they lay in no order, so they took up all my place. I had no
room to turn niyself, so I set myself to enlarge my cave and works
further into the earth; for it was a loose sandy rock, which yielded
easily to the labour I bestowed on it: and so, when I found I
was pretty safe as to beasts of prey, I worked sideways to the
right hand into the rock; and then, turning to the right again,
worked quite out, and made me a dour to come out, on the outside
of my pale or fortification.

This gave me not only egress and regress, as it were, a back-way
to my tent and to my storehouse, but gave me room to stow my
goods.

And now I began to apply myself to make such necessary things
as I found I most wanted, as particularly a chair and a table; for
without these I was not able to enjoy the few comforts I had in
the world—I could not write or eat, or do several things with so
much pleasure without a table.

So I went to work; and here I must needs observe, that as
reason is the substance and original of mathematics, so by stating
and squaring everything by reason, and by making the most
rational judgment of things, every man may be in time master of
every mechanic art. I had never handled a tool in my life, and
yet in time, by labour, application, and contrivance, I found at last
that I wanted nothing but I could have made it, especially if I had
had tools; however, I made abundance of things, even without
122 BEGINNING A JOURNAL.

tools, and some with no more tools than an adze and a hatchet.
which perhaps were never made that way before, and that with in-
finite labour. For example, if I wanted a board, I had no other
way but to cut down a tree, sect it on an edge before me, and hew
it flat on either side with my axe, till I had brought it to be thin
as a plank, and then dubb it smooth with my adze. It is true, by
this method I could make but one board out of a whole tree, but
this I had no remedy for but patience, any more than I had for the
prodigious deal of time and labour which it took me up to make a
plank or board. But my time or labour was little worth, and so
it was as well employed one way as another.

However, I made me a table and a chair, as I observed above,
in the first place, and this I dil out of the short pieces of boards
that I brought on my raft from the ship. But when I had
wrought ont some boards, as above, I made large shelves of the
breadth of a foct and a half one over another, all along one side of
my cave, to lay all my tools, nails, and iron-work, and, in a word,
to separate everything at large in their places, that I might come
easily at them. I knocked pieces into the wall of the rock to hang
my guns and all things that would hang up.

So that had my cave been to be seen, it looked like a general
magazine of all necessary things; and I had everything so ready at
my hand that it was a great pleasure to me to see all my goods in
such order, and especially to find my stock of all necessaries so
great.

And now it was when I began to keep a journal of every day’s
employment—for indeed at first I was in too much hurry, and not
only hurry as to labour, but in too much discomposure of mind—
and my journal would have been full of many dull things. For ex-
ample, I must have said thus:—‘ September 30. After I got to shore
and had escaped drowning, instead of being thankful to God for my
deliverance—having first vomited with the great quantity of salt
water which was gotten into my stomach, and recovering myself a
little—I ran about the shore, wringing my hands and beating my
head and face, exclaiming at my misery, and crying out I was un-
done, undone! till, tired and faint, I was forced to lie down on the
ground to repose, but durst not sleep for fear of being devoured.”
CRUSOE’S NARRATIVE. 128

Some days after this, and after I had been on board the ship
and got all that I could out of her, yet I could not forbear getting
up to the top of a little mountain and looking out to sea in hopes
of seeing a ship, then fancy at a vast distance I spied a sail, please
myself with the hopes of it, and then after looking steadily till I
was almost blind, lose it quite, and sit down and weep like a
child, and thus increase my misery by my folly.

But having gotten over these things in some measure, and
having settled my household stuff and habitation, made me a table
and a chair, and all as handsome about me as I could, I began to
keep my journal, of which I shall here give you the copy (though
in it will be told all these particulars over again) as long as it
lasted, for, having no more ink, I was forced to leave it off. -

      
 
 

aes —

Che Fournal.

 

“KPTEMBER 30, 1659. I, poor, miserable
Robinson Crusoe, being shipwrecked during a
dreadful storm in the offing, came on shore on
this dismal unfortunate island, which I called
the Island of Despair, all the rest of the ship’s
company being drowned, and myself almost dead.

All the rest of that day I spent in afflicting myself at the dismal
circumstances I was brought to—namely, I had neither food, house,
clothes, weapon, nor place to fly to, and, in despair of any relief,
saw nothing but death before me—either that I should be devoured
by wild beasts, murdered by savages, or starved to death for want
of food. At the approach of night I slept in a tree for fear of wild
creatures, but slept soundly though it rained all night.

October 1. In the morning I saw, to my great surprise, that the
ship had floated with the high tide, and was driven on shore again
much nearer the island; which as it was some comfort, on one
124 DAY AFTER DAY.

hand, for, seeing her sit upright, and not broken to pieces, [ hoped,
if the wind abated, [ might get on board and get some food and
necessaries out of her for my relief; so, on the other hand, it
renewed my grief at the loss of my comrades, who, I imagined, if we
had all stayed on board, might have saved the ship, or at least that
they would not have been all drowned as they were; and that, had
the men been saved, we might perhaps have built us a boat out of
the ruins of the ship to have carried us to some other part of the
world. I spent great part of this day in perplexing myself on
these things; but at length, seeing the ship almost dry, I went
upon the sand as near as I could, and then swam on board; this
day also it continued raining, though with no wind at all.

Lrom the 1st of October to the 24th. All these days entirely
spent in many several voyages to get all I could out of the ship,
which I brought on shore, every tide of flood, upon rafts. Much
rain also in these days, though with some intervals of fair weather ;
but, it seems, this was the rainy season.

October 20. I overset my raft, and all the goods T had got upon
it; but being in shoal water, and the things being chiefly heavy,
[ recovered many of them when the tide was out.

October 25. It rained all night and all day, with some gusts of
wind, during which time the ship broke in pieces, the wind blow-
ing a little harder than before, and was no more to be seen, except
the wreck of her, and that only at low water. I spent this day
in covering and securing the goods which I had saved, that the
rain might not spoil them.

October 26. 1 walked about the shore almost all day to find out
a place to fix my habitation, greatly concerned to secure myself
from an attack in the night either from wild beasts or men. To-
wards night I fixed upon a proper place under a rock, and marked
out a semicircle for my encampment, which I resolved to strengthen
with a work, wall, or fortification made of double piles, lined within
with cables and without with turf.

From the 26th to the 30th I worked very hard in carrying all
my goods to my new habitation, though some part of the time it
rained exceeding hard.

The 31st in the morning I went out into the island with my
THE MONTH OF NOVEMBER, 125

gun to see for some food, and discover the country, when | killed
a she-goat, and her kid followed me home, which I afterwards
killed also, because it would not feed.

November 1. I set up my tent under a rock, and lay there for
the first night, making it as large as I could with stakes driven in
to swing my hammock upon.

November 2. I set up all my chests and boards, and the pieces
of timber which made my rafts, and with them formed a fence
round me, a little witlin the place I had marked out for my for-
tification.

November 3. I went out with my gun, and killed two fowls like
ducks, which were very good food. In the afternoon went to work
to make me a table.

November 4. This morning I began to order my times of work,
of going out with my gun, time of sleep and time of diversion—
namely, every morning I walked out with my gun for two or three
hours if it did not rain, then employed myself to work till about
eleven o’clock, then ate what I had to live on; and from twelve to
two I lay down to sleep, the weather being excessive hot; and
then in the evening to work again. The working part of this day
and of the next were wholly employed in making my table; for I
was yet but a very sorry workman, though time and necessity
made me a complete natural mechanic soon after, as I believe it
would do any one else.

November 5. This day went abroad with my gun and my dog,
and killed a wild cat, her skin pretty soft, but her flesh good for
nothing. Every creature I killed I took off the skins and pre-
served them. Coming back by the sea-shore, I saw many sorts of
sea-fowls which I did not understand; but was surprised and
almost frightened with two or three seals, which while I was
gazing at, not well knowing what they were, got into the sea, and
escaped me for that time.

November 6. After my morning walk I went to work with my
table again, and finished it, though not to my liking; nor was it
long before I learned to mend it.

November 7. Now it began to be settled fair weather. The 7th,
Sth, 9th, 10th, and part of the 12th (for the 11th was Sunday),
126 THE IRON TREE,

I took wholly up to make me a chair, and with much ado brought
it to a tolerable shape, but never to please me; and even in the
making I pulled it in pieces several times. Note.—I soon ne-
glected my keeping Sundays; for, omitting my mark for them on
my post, I forgot which was which.

November 13. This day it rained, which refreshed me exceed-
ingly, and cooled the earth; but it was accompanied with terrible
thunder and lightning, which frightened me dreadfully for fear of
my powder. As soon as it was over I resolved to separate my
stock of powder into as many little parcels as possible, that it
might not be in danger.

November 14, 15, 16. These three days I spent in making little
square chests or boxes, which might hold about a pound, or two
pound at most, of powder; and so putting the powder in, I stowed
it in places as secure and remote from one another as possible. On
one of these three days I killed a large bird that was good to eat,
but I know not what to call it.

November 17. This day I began to dig behind my tent into the
rock, to make room for my further conveniency. Note-—Three
things I wanted exceedingly for this work—namely, a pickaxe, a
shovel, and a wheelbarrow or basket. So I desisted from my work,
and began to consider how to supply that want, and make me some
tools. As for a pickaxe, I made use of the iron crows, which
were proper enough though heavy. But the next thing was a
shovel or spade; this was so absolutely necessary, that indeed I
could do nothing effectually without it. But what kind of one to
make I knew not.

November 18. The next day, in searching the woods, I found a
tree of that wood, or like it, which in the Brazils they call the
iron tree, for its exceeding hardness. Of this, with great labour
and almost spoiling my axe, I cut a piece, and brought it home
too with difficulty enough, for it was exceeding heavy.

-The excessive hardness of the wood, and having no other way,
made me a long while upon this machine; for I worked it effec-
tually by little and little into the form of a shovel or spade, the
handle exactly shaped like ours in England, only that the broad
part having no iron shod upon it at bottom, it would not last me so
NECESSITY THE MOTHER OF INVENTION. 127

long. However, it served well enough for the uses which I had
occasion to put it to; but never was a shovel, I believe, made after
that fashion, or so long a-making.

   

is

i>
<i

Ne ss

  
 

  

“AND BROUGHT IT HOME TOO WITH DIFFICULTY ENOUGH.”

Iwas still deficient, for I wanted a basket or a wheelbarrow. A
basket I could not make by any means, having no such things as
twigs that would bend to make wicker ware, at least none yet
found out. And as to a wheelbarrow, I fancied I could make all
but the wheel, but that I had no notion of, neither did I know
how to go about it; besides, I had no possible way to make the
iron gudgeons for the spindle or axis of the wheel to run in, so I
gave it over. And so, for carrying away the earth which I dug
out of the cave, 1 made me a thing like a hod, which the labourers
carry mortar in when they serve the bricklayers.

This was not so difficult to me as the making the shovel;
and yet this and the shovel, and the attempt which I made in vain
to make a wheelbarrow, took me up no less than four days—I
mean always excepting my morning walk with my gun, which I
seldom failed, and very seldom failed also bringing home something
fit to eat.

November 23. My other work having now stood still because of
my making these tools, when they were finished I went on, and

working every day as my strength and time allowed, I spent
(284)
128 ROOFING THE CAVERN.

eighteen days entirely in widening and deepening my cave, that
it might hold my goods commodiously.

Note.—During all this time I worked to make this room or
cave spacious enough to accommodate me as a warehouse or maga-
zine, a kitchen, a dining-room, and a cellar. As for my lodging,
I kept to the tent, except that sometimes, in the wet season of the
year, it rained so hard that I could not keep myself dry; which
cause] me afterwards to cover all my place within my pale with
long poles in the form of rafters, leaning against the rock, and load
them with flags and large leaves of trees like a thatch.

December 10. T began now to think my cave or vault finished,
when on a sudden (it seems I had made it too large) a great quan-
tity of earth fell down from the top and one side, so much that,
in short, it frightened me; and not without reason too, for if I
had been under it, I had never wanted a grave-digger. Upon this
disaster I had a great deal of work to do over again; for I had
the loose earth to carry out, and, which was of more importance, I
had the ceiling to prop up, so that I might be sure no more would
come down.

December 11, This day I went to work with it accordingly, and
got two shores or posts pitched upright to the top, with two pieces
of board across over each post. This I finished the next day, and
setting more posts up with boards, in about a week more I had
the roof secured; and the posts, standing in rows, served me for
partitions to part of my house.

December 17. From this day to the 20th I placed shelves, and
knocked up nails on the posts to hang everything up that
could be hung up; and now IJ began to be in some order within
doors.

December 20. Now I carried everything into the cave, and began
to furnish my house, and set up some pieces of board, like a
dresser, to order my victuals upon; but boards began to be very
scarce with me. Also I made me another table.

December 24. Much rain all night and all day. No stirring out.

December 25. Rain all day.

December 26. No rain, and the earth much cooler than before
and pleasanter.
A DAILY RECORD. 129

December 27, Killed a young goat, and lamed another so that
I caught it, and led it home ina string. When I had it home [
bound and splintered up its leg, which was broken. N.B.—I took
such care of it that it lived, and the leg grew well and as strong
as ever; but by my nursing it so long it grew tame, and fed upon
the little green at my door, and would not go away. ‘This was
the first time that | entertained a thought of breeding up some
tame creatures, that T might have food when my powder and shot
was all spent.

December 28, 29, 80. Great heats and no breeze, so that there
was no stirring abroad, except in the evening, for food. This time
I spent in putting all my things in order within doors.

January 1. Very hot still, but I went abroad early and late
with my gun, and lay still in the middle of the day. This even-
ing, going further into the valleys which lie towards the centre
of the island, I found there was plenty of goats, though exceed-
ing shy and hard to come at. However, I resolved to try if 1
could not bring my dog to hunt them down.

January 2. Accordingly, the next day I went out with my dog,
and set him upon the goats; but I was mistaken, for they all
faced about upon the dog, and he knew his danger too well, for he
would not come near them.

January 3. I began my fence or wall, which, being still jealous
of my being attacked by somebody, I resolved to make very thick
and strong.

N.B.—This wall being described before, I purposely omit what
was said in the journal. It is sufficient to observe that I was no
less time than from the 8rd of January to the 14th of April work-
ing, finishing, and perfecting this wall, though it was no more than
about twenty-four yards in length, being a half circle from one
place in the rock to another place about eight yards from it, the
door of the cave being in the centre behind it.

All this time I worked very hard, the rains hindering me many
days, nay, sometimes weeks together; but I thought I should never
be perfectly secure till this wall was finished. And it is scarce
credible what inexpressible labour everything was done with,
especially the bringing piles out of the woods and driving them
130 SOME INGENIOUS EXPEDIENTS.

into the ground, for I made them much bigger than I need te
have done.

When this wall was finished, and the outside double fenced with
a turf wall raised up close to it, I persuaded myself that if any
people were to come on shore there, they would not perceive any-
thing like a habitation. And it was very well I did so, as may
be observed hereafter upon a very remarkable occasion.

During this time I made my rounds in the woods for gaine every
day when the rain admitted me, and made frequent discoveries in
these walks of something or other to my advantage. Particularly
I founda kind of wild pigeons, which built not as wood-pigeons, in
a tree, but rather as house-pigeons, in the holes of the rocks; and
taking some young ones, I endeavoured to breed them up tame,
and did so; but when they grew older they flew all away, which
perhaps was at first for want of feeding them, for I had nothing
to give them. However, I frequently found their nests, and got
their young ones, which were very good meat.

And now, in the managing my household affairs, I found myself
wanting in many things, which I thought at first it was impossible
for me to make, as indeed as to some of them it was. For instance,
I could never make a cask to be hooped. I had a small runlet or
two, as I observed before, but I could never arrive to the capacity
of making one by them, though I spent many weeks about it. I
could neither put in the heads, nor joint the staves so true to one
another as to make them hold water. So I gave that also over.

In the next place, I was at a great loss for candle; so that as
soon as ever it was dark, which was generally by seven o'clock, I
was obliged to go to bed. I remembered the lump of bees-wax
with which I made candles in my African adventure, but I had
none of that now. The only remedy I had was, that when I had
killed a goat, I saved the tallow; and with a little dish made of
clay, which I baked in the sun, to which I added a wick of some
oakum, I made me a lamp, and this gave me light, though not a
clear, steady light, like a candle. In the middle of all my labours
it happened that, rummaging my things, I found a little bag,
which, as I hinted before, had been filled with corn for the feeding
of poultry, not for this voyage, but before, as I suppose, when
A SURPRISING SPECTACLE. 13]

the ship came from Lisbon. What little remainder of corn had been
in the bag was all devoured with the rats, and I saw nothing in
the bag but husks and dust; and being willing to have the bag
for some other use (I think it was to put powder in, when I
divided it for fear of the lightning, or some such use), I shook the
husks of corn out of it on one side of my fortification under the
rock,

It was a little before the great rains just now mentioned that |
threw this stuff away, taking no notice of anything, and not so
much as remembering that I had thrown anything there; when.
about a month after, or thereabout, I saw some few stalks of some-
thing green shooting out of the ground,
which I fancied might be some plant

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

L had not seen; but I was surprised
and perfectly astonished when, after
a little longer time, I saw about ten
or twelve ears come out, which were
perfect green barley, of the same kind
as our European, nay, as our English
barley.

It is impossible
to express the as-
tonishment and
confusion of my
thoughts on this
occasion. I had
hitherto acted up-
on no religious
foundation at all;
indeed, I had very
few notions of re-
ligion in my head,
nor had entertain-
ed any sense of
anything that had
befallen me other-

“7 SAW ABOUT TEN OR TWELVE KAKS CUDLK OUT.” wise than as a
182 THE WORK OF PROVIDENCE.

chance, or, as we lightly say, what pleases God; without so much
as Inquiring into the end of Providence in these things, or his
order in governing events in the world. But after I saw barley
grow there, in a climate which I knew was not proper for corn,
and especially that I knew not how it came there, it startled me
strangely, and IT began to suggest that God had miraculously
caused this grain to grow without any help of seed sown, and that
it was so directed purely for my sustenance on that wild miserable
place.

This touched my heart a little, and brought tears out of my
eyes; and ' began to bless myself that such a prodigy of nature
should happen upon my account, And this was the more strange
to me, because T saw near it still all along by the side of the rock
some other straggling stalks, which proved to be stalks of rice,
and which I knew because I had seen it grow in Africa, when J
was ashore there.

I not only thought these the pure productions of Providence for
my support, but not doubting but that there was more in the place,
T went all over that part of the island where I had been before,
peering in every corner and under every rock, to see for more of it;
but I could not find any. At last it occurred to my thoughts that
Thad shaken a bag of chickens’ meat out in that place, and then
the wonder began to cease; and I must confess my religious thank-
fulness to God’s providence began to abate too upon the discovering
that all this was nothing but what was common; though I ought
to have been as thankful for so strange and unforeseen providence
as if it had been miraculous: for it was really the work of Pro-
vidence as to me, that should order or appoint that ten or twelve
grains of corn should remain unspoiled (when the rats had destroyed
all the rest), as if it had been dropped from heaven; as also that I
should throw it out in that particular place, where, it being in the
shade of a high rock, it sprang up immediately; whereas, if I had
thrown it anywhere else at that time, it had been burned up and
destroyed.

T carefully saved the ears of this corn, you may be sure, in their
season, which was about the end of June; and laying up every
corn, I resolved to sow them all again, hoping in time to have
A SHOCK OF EARTHQUAKE, 138

some quantity sufficient to supply me with bread. But it was not
till the fourth year that I could allow myself the least grain of this
corn to eat, and even then but sparingly, as I shall say afterwards in
its order; for I lost all that I sowed the first season by not observ-
ing the proper time; for I sowed it just before the dry season, so
that it never came up at all, at least not as it would have done—
of which in its place.

Besides this barley there was, as above, twenty or thirty stalks
of rice, whieh [ preserved with the same care, and whose use was
of the same kind or to the same purpose

 

namely, to make me
bread, or rather food; for [ found ways to cook it up without bak-
ing, though I did that also after some time. But to return to my
journal.

I worked excessive hard these three or four months to get my
wall done ; and the 14th of April I closed it up, contriving to go
into it, not by a door, but over the wall by a ladder, that there
might be no sign in the outside of my habitation.

April 16. T finished the ladder; so I went up with the ladder
to the top, and then pulled it up after me, and let it down on the
inside. This was a complete enclosure to me—for within I had
room enough, and nothing could come at me from without, unless
it could first mount my wall.

The very next day after this wall was finished, I had almost all
my labour overthrown at once, and myself killed. The case was
thus: As I was busy in the inside of it, behind my tent, just in the
entrance into my cave, I was terribly frightened with a most dreadful
surprising thing indeed; for all on a sudden I found the earth come
crumbling down from the roof of my cave and from the edge of the
hill over my head, and two of the posts I had set up in the cave
cracked in a frightful manner. I was heartily scared, but thought
nothing of what was really the cause—only thinking that the top
of my cave was falling in, as some of it had done before ; and for
fear [ should be buried in it, I ran forward to my ladder, and not
thinking myself safe there neither, I got over my wall for fear of
the pieces of the hill which I expected might roll down upon me.
I was no sooner stepped down upon the firm ground, but I plainly
saw it was a terrible carthquake, for the ground I stood on shook
134 TRANSITORY IMPRESSIONS.

three times at about eight minutes’ distance with three such shocks
as would have overturned the strongest building that could be
supposed to have stood on the earth; and a great piece of the top
of a rock, which stood about half a mile from me next the sea, fell
down with such a terrible noise as I never heard in all my life. I
perceived also the very sea was put into violent motion by it, and
I believe the shocks were stronger under the water than on the
island.

Twas so amazed with the thing itself

 

having never felt the like
or discoursed with any one that had—that I was like one dead or
stupified ; and the motion of the earth made my stomach sick, like
one that was tossed at sea. But the noise of the falling of the rock
awaked ine, as it were, and rousing ime from the stupified condition
I was in, filled me with horror, and I thought of nothing then but
the hill falling upon my tent and all my household goods, and bury-
ing all at once; and this sank my very soul within me a second
time.

After the third shock was over, and T felt no more for some
tune, I began to take courage; and yet I had not heart enough
to go over my wall again, for fear of being buried alive, but sat
still upon the ground, greatly cast down and disconsolate, not know-
ing what to do. All this while I had not the least serious religious
thought, nothing but the common “ Lord, have mercy upon ine;”
and when it was over, that went away too.

While I sat thus, I found the air overcast and grow cloudy, as if
it would rain. Soon after that the wind rose by little and little,
so that in less than half an hour it blewa most dreadful hurricane.
The sea was all on a sudden covered over with foam and froth, the
shore was covered with the breach of the water, the trees were
torn up by the roots, and a terrible storm it was; and this held
about three hours and then began to abate, and in two hours more
it was stark calm and began to rain very hard. F

All this while I sat upon the ground very much terrified and
dejected, when on a sudden it came into my thoughts that these
winds and rain being the consequences of the earthquake, the earth-
quake itself was spent and over, and I might venture into my cave
again. With this thought my spirits began to revive, and the
EVERY DAY BRINGS ITS TASK. 136

rain also helping to persuade me, I went in and sat down in my
tent—but the rain was so violent that my tent was ready to be
beaten down with it, and I was forced to go into my cave, though
very much afraid and uneasy for fear it should fall on my head.

This violent rain forced me to a new work—namely, to cut a
hole through my new fortification like a sink to let the water go
out, which would else have drowned my cave. After I had been
in my cave some time and found still no more shocks of the earth-
quake follow, I began to be more composed; and now to support
my spirits—which indeed wanted it very much—I went to my
little store and took a small sup of rum, which however I did then
and always very sparingly, knowing I could have no more when
that was gone.

It continued raining all that night and great part of the next
day, so that I could not stir abroad; but my mind being more
composed, I began to think of what I had best do, concluding that
if the island was subject to these earthquakes there would be no
living for me in a cave, but I must consider of building me some
little hut in an open place which I might surround with a wall as
I had done here, and so make myself secure from wild beasts or
men; but concluded, if I stayed where I was, I should certainly,
one time or other, be buried alive.

With these thoughts I resolved to remove my tent from the
place where it stood, which was just under the hanging precipice
of the hill, and which, if it should be shaken again, would certainly
fall upon my tent. And I spent the two next days, being the
19th and 20th of April, in contriving where and how to remove
my habitation,

The fear of being swallowed up alive made me that I never slept
in quiet, and yet the apprehension of lying abroad without any
fence was almost equal to it; but still when I looked about and
saw how everything was put in order, how pleasantly concealed I
was, and how safe from danger, it made me very loath to remove.

In the meantime it occurred to me that it would require a vast
deal of time for me to do this, and that I must be contented to
run the venture where I was, till I had formed a camp for myself,
and had secured it so as to remove to it. So with this resolution
136 A SHIFT FOR A GRINDSTONE,

I composed myself for a time, and resolved that I would go to
work with all speed to build me a wall with piles and cables, &e..
ina circle as before, and set my tent up in it when it was finished,
but that I would venture to stay where [ was till it was finished
and fit to remove to. This was the 21st.

April 22. The next morning [ began to consider of means. to
put this resolve in execution, but T was at a great loss about my
tools. Thad three large axes and abundance of hatchets (for we
carried the hatchets for traffic with the Indians), but with much
chopping and cutting knotty hard wood they were all full. of
notches and dull; and though [ had a grindstone, [ could not turn
it and grind my tools too. ‘This cost me as much thought as a
statesman would have bestowed upon a grand point of polities, or
a judge upon the life and death of aman. At length I contrived
a wheel with a string to turn it with my foot, that [ might have
both my hands at liberty —ote. I had never seen any such thing
in Hngland, or at least not to take notice how it was done, though
since T have observed it is very common there; besides that, my
grindstone was very large and heavy. This machine cost me a
full week’s work to bring it to perfection.

Apri 28, 29, These two whole days I took up in grinding my
tools, my machine for turning my grindstone performing very
well.

atpril 30. Having perceived my bread had been low a great
while, now I took a survey of it, and reduced myself to one biseuit-
cake a day, which made my heart very heavy.

May 1. In the morning, looking towards the sea-side, the tide
being low, T saw something lie on the shore bigger than ordinary,
and it looked like a cask. When I came to it, I found a small
barrel and two or three pieces of the wreck of the ship, which were
driven on shore by the late hurricane; and looking towards the
wreck itself, I thought it seemed to lie higher out of the water than
it used to do. I examined the barrel which was driven on shore,
and soon found it was a barrel of gunpowder; but it had taken
water, and the powder was caked as hard as a stone. However, I
rolled it further on shore for the present, and went on upon the
sands as near as [ could to the wreck of the ship to look for more.
THE WRECK ASHORE. 187

When I came down to the ship I found it strangely removed
The forecastle, which Jay before buried in sand, was heaved up
at least six feet; and the stern, which was broken to pieces and
parted from the rest by the force of the sea soon after I had left
rummaging her, was tossed, as it were, up and cast on one side; and
the sand was thrown so high on that side next her stern, that
whereas there was a great place of water before, so that I could not
come within a quarter of a mile of the wreck without swimming,
I could now walk quite up to her when the tide was out. I was
surprised with this at first, but soon concluded it must be done
by the earthquake. And as by this violence the ship was more
broken open than formerly, so many things came daily on shore
which the sea had loosened, and which the winds and water rolled
by degrees to the land.

This wholly diverted my thoughts from the design of removing
my habitation; and I busied myself mightily, that day especially, in
searching whether I could make any way into the ship; but I found
nothing was to be expected of that kind, for that all the inside of
the ship was choked up with sand. However, as T had learned not
to despair of anything, I resolved to pull everything to pieces that
[ could of the ship, concluding that everything I could get from
her would be of some use or other to me.

May 3. T began with my saw, and cut a piece of a beam through,
which I thought held some of the upper part or quarter-deck
together; and when I had cut it through, I cleared away the sand
as well as I could from the side which lay highest; but the tide
coming in, I was obliged to give over for that time.

May 4. I went a-fishing, but caught not one fish that I durst
eat of, till I was weary of my sport; when just going to leave off,
I caught a young dolphin. I had made me a long line of some
rope yarn, but T had no hooks, yet I frequently caught fish enough,
as much as I cared to eat; all which I dried in the sun, and ate
them dry.

May 5, Worked on the wreck, cut another beam asunder, and
brought three great fir planks off from the decks, which I tied
together, and made swim on shore when the tide of flood came on.

May 6. Worked on the wreck, got several iron bolts out of her,
1388 GATHERING THE SPOIL,

and other pieces of iron-work, worked very hard, and came home
very much tired, and had thoughts of giving it over.

May 7. Went to the wreck again, but with an intent not to
work; but found the weight of the wreck had broken itself down,
the beams being cut, that several pieces of the ship seemed to lie
loose, and the inside of the hold lay so open that I could see into
it, but almost full of water and sand.

May 8. Went to the wreck, and carried an iron crow to wrench
up the deck, which lay now quite clear of the water or sand. TI
wrenched open two planks, and brought them on shore also with
the tide. I left the iron crow in the wreck for next day.

Jay 9. Went to the wreck, and with the crow made way into
the body of the wreck, and felt several casks, and loosened them
with the crow, but could not break them up. I felt also the roll
of English lead, and could stir it, but it was too heavy to remove.

May 10, 11, 12, 13, 14. Went every day to the wreck, and got
a great deal of pieces of timber and boards, or planks, and two or
three hundredweight of iron. j

May 15. I carried two hatchets to try if I could not cut a piece
off of the roll of lead, by placing the edge of one hatchet and
driving it with the other; but as it lay about a foot and a half in
the water, I could not make any blow to drive the hatchet.

May 16. It had blowed hard in the night, and the wreck ap-
peared more broken by the force of the water; but I stayed so long
in the woods to get pigeons for food, that the tide prevented me
going to the wreck that day.

May 17. I saw some pieces of the wreck blown on shore, at a
great distance, near two miles off me, but resolved to see what they
were, and found it was a piece of the head, but too heavy for me
to bring away.

May 24. Every day to this day I worked on the wreck, and
with hard labour I loosened some things so much with the crow,
that the first blowing tide several casks floated out, and two of the
seamen’s chests; but the wind blowing from the shore, nothing
came to land that day but pieces of timber, and a hogshead which
had some Brazil pork in it, but the salt water and the sand had
spoiled it.
AN ATTACK OF AGUE. 138

Icontinued this work every day to the 15th of June, except the
time necessary to get food, which I always appointed, during this
part of my employment, to be when the tide was up, that I might be
ready when it was ebbed out; and by this time I had gotten timber
and plank and iron-work enough to have builded a good boat, if
I had known how; and also, I got at several times and in several
pieces, near one hundredweight of the sheet lead.

June 16. Going down to the seaside, I found a large tortoise
or turtle. This was the first I had seen; which, it seems, was only
my misfortune, not any defect of the place or scarcity: for had
[ happened to be on the other side of the island, I might have
had hundreds of them every day, as I found afterwards; but, per-
haps, had paid dear enough for them.

June 17. I spent in cooking the turtle. I found in her three-
score eggs; and her flesh was to me at that time the most savoury
and pleasant that ever I tasted in my life, having had no flesh, but
of goats and fowls, since I landed in this horrid place.

June 18. Rained all day, and I stayed within. I thought at
this time the rain felt cold, and I was something chilly, which ]
knew was not usual in that latitude,

June 19. Very ill, and shivering, as if the weather had been
cold.

June 20. No rest all night, violent pains in my head, and
feverish.

June 21. Very ill. Frightened almost to death with the appre-
hensions of my sad condition—to be sick and no help. Prayed to
God for the first time since the storm off of Hull ; but scarce knew
what I said, or why, my thoughts being all confused.

June 22. A little better, but under dreadful apprehensions of
sickness.

June 23. Very bad again, cold and shivering, and then a violent
headache.

June 24. Much better.

June 25, An ague, very violent. The fit held me seven hours,
cold fit and hot, with faint sweats after it.

June 26. Better; and having no victuals to eat, took my gun.
but found myself very weak. However, I killed a she-goat, and
Clie

140 A TERRIBLE DREAM.

with much difficulty got it home, and broiled some of it, and ate
Iwould fain have stewed it, and made some broth, but had no pot.

June 27. The ague again, so violent that I lay a-bed all day,
and neither ate nor drank. I was ready to perish for thirst, but so
weak, Thad not strength to stand up or to get myself any water
to drink. Prayed to God again; but was Jight-headed, and when
I was not, I was so ignorant that I knew not what to say; only I
lay and cried, ** Tord, Jook upon me; Lord, pity me; Lord, have
mercy upon me!” I suppose I did nothing else for two or three
hours, till the fit wearing off I fell asleep, and did not wake till far
in the night. When I waked I found myself much refreshed,
but weak and exceeding thirsty. However, as I had no water
in my whole habitation, 1 was forced to lie till morning, and
went to sleep again. In this second sleep I had this terrible
dream :—

I thought that I was sitting on the ground on the outside of my
wall, where I sat when the storm blew after the earthquake, and
that I saw a man descend from a great black cloud, in a bright
flame of fire, and light upon the ground. He wasall over as bright
as a flame, so that I could but just bear to look towards him. His
countenance was most inexpressibly dreadful, impossible for words
to describe. When he stepped upon the ground with his feet, I
thought the earth trembled, just as it had done before in the earth-
quake; and all the air looked, to my apprehension, as if it had been
filled with flashes of fire.

He was no sooner landed upon the earth but he moved forward
towards me, with a long spear or weapon in his hand, to kill me.
And when he came to a rising ground at some distance, he spoke
to me, or I heard a voice so terrible, that it is impossible to express
the terror of it. All that I can say I understood was this, ‘‘ Seeing
all these things have not brought thee to repentance, now thou
shalt die.” At which words, I thought he lifted up the spear that
was in his hand to kui] ume.

No one that shall ever read this account will expect that I should
be able to describe the horrors of my soul at this terrible vision. I
mean, that even while it was a dream, I even dreamed of those
horrors. Nor is it any more possible to describe the impression
LIVING WITHOUT GOD. 14]

that remained upon my mind, when J awaked and found it was but
a dream.

Thad, alas! no divine knowledge. What I had received by the
good instruction of my father was then worn out by an uninter-
rupted series, for eight years, of sea-faring wickedness, and a con-
stant conversation with nothing but such as were like myself,
wicked and profane to the last degree. I do not remember that
Thad in all that time one thought that so much as tended either
to looking upwards toward God, or inwards towards a reflection
upon my own ways. But a certain stupidity of soul, without
aesire of good or conscience of evil, had entirely overwhelmed me,
and I was all that the most hardened, unthinking, wicked creature
aniong our common sailors can be supposed to be, not having the
least sense, either of the fear of God in danger, or of thankfulness
to God in deliverance.

In the relating what is already past of my story, this will be the
more easily believed, when I shall add, that through all the variety
of miseries that had to this day befallen me, I never had so much
as one thought of it being the hand of God, or that it was a just
punishment for my sin, my rebellious behaviour against my father,
or my present sins, which were great; or so much as a punish-
ment for the general course of my wicked life. When I was on
the desperate expedition on the desert shores of Africa, I never had
so much as one thought of what would become of me; or one
wish to God to direct me whither I should go, or to keep me from
the danger which apparently surrounded me, as well from vora-
cious creatures as cruel savages. But I was merely thoughtless of
a God, or a Providence; acted like a mere brute from the prin-
ciples of nature, and by the dictates of common sense only, and
indeed hardly that.

When I was delivered and taken up at sea by the Portuguese
captain, well used, and dealt justly and honourably with, as well as
charitably, I had not the least thankfulness on my thoughts.
When again I was shipwrecked, ruined, and in danger of drowning
on this island, 1 was as far from remorse, or looking on it as a
judgment ; I only said to myself often that 1 was an unfortunate
dog, and born to be always miserable.
142 THE STIRRINGS OF CONSCIENCE,

Tt is true, when | got onshore first here, and found all my ship’s
crew drowned, and myself spared, I was surprised with a kind of
ecstasy and some transports of soul, which, had the grace of God
assisted, might have come up to true thankfulness. But it ended
where it began, in a mere common flight of joy, or, as I may say,
being glad Iwas alive, without the least reflection upon the distin-
guishing goodness of the hand which had preserved me, and had
singled me out to be preserved, when all the rest were destroyed ;
or an inquiry why Providence had been thus merciful to me—even
just the same common sort of joy which seamen generally have
after they have got safe ashore from a shipwreck, which they drown
all in the next bowl of punch, and forget almost as soon as it is
over, and all the rest of my life was like it.

Even when I was atterwards, on due consideration, made sen-
sible of my condition, how I was cast on this dreadful place, out
of the reach of human kind, out of all hope of relief or prospect of
redemption, as soon as I saw but a prospect of living, and that I
should not starve and perish for hunger, all the sense of my afflic-
tion wore off, and I began to be very easy, applied myself to the
works proper for my preservation and supply, and was far enough
from being afflicted at my condition, as a judgment from heaven,
or as the hand of God against me. These were thoughts which
very seldom entered into my head.

The growing up of the corn, as is hinted in my journal, had at
first some little influence upon me, and began to affect me with
seriousness, as long as I thought it had something miraculous
in it; but as soon as ever that part of the thought was removed,
all the impression which was raised from it wore off also, as I have
noted already,

Even the earthquake, though nothing could be more terrible in
its nature, or more immediately directing to the Invisible Power
which alone directs such things, yet no sooner was the first fright
over, but the impression it had made went off also. I had no
more sense of God or his judgments, much less of the present
affliction of my circumstances being from his hand, than if I had
been in the most prosperous condition of life.

Bat now when T hegan to he sick, and a leisurely view of the
CRUSOE’S REPENTANCE, 148

miseries of death came to place itself before me; when my spirits
began to sink under the burden of a strong distemper, and nature
was exhausted with the violence of the fever; conscience, that had
slept so long, began to awake, and I began to reproach myself
with my past life, in which I had so evidently, by uncommon
wickedness, provoked the justice of God to lay me under uncom-
mon strokes, and to deal with me in so vindictive a manner.

These reflections oppressed me for the second or third day of my
distemper, and in the violence, as well of the fever as of the dread-
ful reproaches of my conscience, extorted some words from me like
praying to God, though I cannot say they were either a prayer
attended with desires or with hopes; it was rather the voice of
mere fright and distress. My thoughts were confused, the convic-
tions great upon my mind, and the horror of dying in such a
miserable condition raised vapours into my head with the mere
apprehensions; and in these hurries of my soul I know not what
my tongue might express. But it was rather exclamation, such
as, “‘ Lord, what a miserable creature am I! If I should be sick, I
shall certainly die for want of help, and what will become of me?”
Then the tears burst out of my eyes, and I could say no more for a
good while.

In this interval, the good advice of my father came to my mind
and presently his prediction, which I mentioned at the beginning
of this story, namely, that if I did take this foolish step, God would
not bless me, and I would have leisure hereafter to reflect upon
having neglected his counsel, when there might be none to assist
in my recovery. ‘“ Now,” said I aloud, “ my dear father’s words are
come to pass: God’s justice has overtaken me, and I have none to
help or hear me. I rejected the voice of Providence, wnich had
mercifully put me in a posture or station of life wherein I might
have been happy and easy ; but I would neither see it myself nor
learn to know the blessing of it from my parents. I left them to
mourn over my folly, and now I am left to mourn under the con-
sequences of it. I refused their help and assistance who would
have titted me into the world, and would have made everything
easy to me; and now I have difficulties to struggle with, too great
for even nature itself to support, and no assistance, no help, nc

(284 10
144 THOUGHTS UPON GOD.

comfort, no advice.” Then I cried out, “ Lord, be my help; for I
am in great distress.”

This was the first prayer, if I may call it so, that [had made for
many years. But I return to my journal.

June 28. Having been somewhat refreshed with the sleep I had
had, and the fit being entirely off, I got up; and though the
fright and terror of my dream was very great, yet I considered that
the fit of the ague would return again the next day, and now was
my time to get something to refresh and support myself when I
should be ill. And the first thing I did, I filled a large square
case-bottle with water, and set it upon my table, in reach of my
bed; and to take off the chill or aguish disposition of the water, I
put about a quarter of a pint of rum into it and mixed them toge-
ther. Then I got me a piece of the goat’s flesh and broiled it on
the coals, but could eat very little. I walked about, but was very
weak, and withal very sad and heavy-hearted in the sense of my
miserable condition, dreading the return of my distemper the next
day. At night I made my supper of three of the turtle’s eggs,
which I roasted in the ashes, and ate, as we call it, in the shell ;
and this was the first bit of meat I had ever asked God’s blessing
to, even as I could remember, in my whole life.

After I had eaten I tried to walk, but found myself so weak
that I could hardly carry the gun (for I never went out without
that); so I went but a little way, and sat down upon the ground,
looking out upon the sea, which was just before me, and very calm
and smooth. As I sat here, some such thoughts as these occurred
to me :—

What is this earth and sea of which I have seen so much, whence
is it produced; and what am J and all the other creatures, wild
and tame, human and brutal, whence are we?

Sure we are all made by some secret Power, who formed the
earth and sea, the air and sky; and who is that?

Then it followed most naturally, It is God that has made it all.
Well, but then it came on strangely, if God has made all these
things, he guides and governs them all, and all things that concern
them ; for the Power that could make all things must certainly
have power to guide and direct them.

‘

+
QUESTIONING ONE'S OWN HEART. 145

Tf so, nothing can happen in the great circuit of his works, either
without his knowledge or appointment.

And if nothing happens without his knowledge, he knows that
I am here, and am in this dreadful condition; and if nothing
happens without his appointment, he has appointed all this to
befall me.

Nothing occurred to my thoughts to contradict any of these con-
clusions; and therefore it rested upon me with the greater force,
that it must needs be that God had appointed all this to befall me;
that I was brought to this miserable circumstance by his direction,
he having the sole power, not of me only, but of everything that
happened in the world. Jhamediately it followed,—

Why has God done this to me? What have [ done to be thus
used ?

My conscience presently checked me in that inquiry, as if I had
blasphemed, and methought it spoke to me like a voice: Wretch !
dost thou ask what thou hast done? Look back upon a dreadful
mis-spent life, and ask thyself what thou hast not done! Ask,
Why is it that thou wert not long ago destroyed? Why wert
thou not drowned in Yarmouth Roads? killed in the fight when
the ship was taken by the Sallee man-of-war? devoured by the
wild beasts on the coast of Africa? or, drowned here, when all the
crew perished but thyself? Dost thou ask, What have I done?

I was struck dumb with these reflections, as one astonished, and
had not a word to say—no, not to answer to myself; but rose up
pensive and sad, walked back to my retreat, and went up over my
wall, as if I had been going to bed; but my thoughts were sadly
disturbed, and I had no inclination to sleep; so I sat down in my
chair, and lighted my lamp, for it began to be dark. Now as the
apprehension of the return of my distemper terrified me very much,
it occurred to my thought that the Brazilians take no physic but
their tobacco for almost all distempers; and I had a piece of a roll
of tobacco in one of the chests, which was quite cured, and some
also that was green and not quite cured.

J went, directed by Heaven no doubt; for in this chest I found
a cure both for soul and body. I opened the chest and found
what I looked for, namely, the tobacco; and as the few books I had
146 BETTER IN MIND AND BODY.

saved lay there too, I took out one of the Bibles which I men
tioned before, and which to this time I had not found leisure, 01
so much as inclination to look into—I say, I took it out, and
brought both that and the tobacco with me to the table.

What use to make of the tobacco I knew not, as to my distem-
per, or whether it was good for it or no; but I tried several
experiments with it, as if I was resolved it should hit one way or
other. I first took a picce of a leaf and chewed it in my mouth,
which indeed at first almost stupified my brain, the tobacco being
green and strong and that I had not been much used to it; then
I took some and steeped it an hour or two in some rum, and
resolved to take a dose of it when I lay down; and lastly, I burned
some upon a pan of coals, and held my nose close over the smoke
of it as long as I could bear it, as well for the heat as almost for
suffocation.

Jn the interval of this operation, I took up the Bible and began
to read; but my head was too much disturbed with the tobacco to
bear reading, at least that time. Only, having opened the book
casually, the first words that occurred to me were these, ‘“ Call
upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt
glorify me.”

The words were very apt to my case, and made some impres-
sion upon my thoughts at the time of reading them, though not
so much as they did afterwards; for, as for being delivered, the
word had no sound, as I may say, to me; the thing was so remote,
so impossible in my apprehension of things, that I began to say as
the children of Israel did, when they were promised flesh to eat,
‘“Can God spread a table in the wilderness?” so I began to sav,
Can God himself deliver me from this place? and as it was not for
many years that any hope appeared, this prevailed very often upon
my thoughts; but, however, the words made a great impression
upon me, and I mused upon them very often. It grew now late,
and the tobacco had, as I said, dozed my head so much that I in-
clined to sleep; so I left my lamp burning in the cave lest I
should want anything in the night, and went to bed: but, before
I lay down, I did what I never had done in all my life—I kneeled
down and prayed to God to fulfil the promise to me, that if I called
A DAY LOST. 147

 

CRUSOE ANTICIPATING AN ATTACK FROM THE SAVAGES.
See payee 254.

upon him in the day of trouble, he would deliver me. Alter my
broken and imperfect prayer was over, I drank the rum in which
Thad steeped the tobacco, which was so strong and rank of the
tobacco that indeed I could scarce get it down. Immediately upon
this I went to bed. I found presently it flew up in my head
violently, but I fell into a sound sleep, and waked no more till, by
the sun, it must necessarily be near three o’clock in the afternoon
the next day. Nay, to this hour I am partly of the opinion that I
slept all the next day and night, and till almost three that das
after; for otherwise I knew not how I should lose a day out of my
reckoning in the days of the week, as it appeared some years after
Thad done. For if I had lost it by crossing and recrossing the
line, I should have lost more than one day ; but, certainly, I lost a
day in my account, and never knew which way.

Be that, however, one way or the other, when I awoke I found
myself exceedingly refreshed, and my spirits lively and cheerful ;
when I got up I was stronger than I was the day before, and my
148 MENS SANA IN CORPORE SANO.

stomach better, for I was hungry; and, in short, I had no fit the
next day, but continued much altered for the better. This was
the 29th.

The 30th was my well-day, of course, and I went abroad with
my gun, but did not care to travel too far. I killed a sea-fowl or
two, something like a brand-goose, and brought them home, but
was not very forward to eat them; so I ate some more of the
turtle’s eggs, which were very good. This evening T renewed the
medicine which I had supposed did me good the day before—
namely, the tobacco steeped in rum; only I did not take so much
as before, nor did I chew any of the leaf, or hold my head over the
smoke. However, I was not so well the next day, which was the
Ist. of July, as I hoped I should have been; for I had a little
spice of the cold fit, but it was not much.

July 2. [renewed the medicine all the three ways, and dozed
myself with it as at first; and doubled the quantity which I
drank.

July 3. I missed the fit for good and all, though I did not
recover my full strength for some weeks after. While I was thus
gathering strength my thoughts ran exceedingly upon this scrip-
ture, “I will deliver thee;” and the impossibility of my deliver-
ance lay much upon my mind in bar of my ever expecting it. But
as I was discouraging myself with such thoughts it occurred to my
mind that I pored so much upon my deliverance from the main
affliction that I disregarded the deliverance I had received; and I
was, as it were, made to ask myself such questions as these—
namely, Have I not been delivered, and wonderfully too, from
sickness—from the most distressed condition that could be, and
that was so frightful to me? And what notice I had taken of it:
Had I done my part? God had delivered me, but I had not
glorified him; that is to say, I had not owned and been thankful
for that as adeliverance. And how could I expect greater deliver-
ance ?

This touched my heart very much, and immediately I kneeled
down and gave God thanks aloud for my recovery from my sick-
ness.
THE VOICE OF CONSCIENCE. 149

July 4. In the morning I took the Bible, and, beginning at the
New Testament, I began seriously to read it, and imposed upon
myself to read a while every morning and every night, not tying
myself to the number of chapters, but as long as my thoughts
should engage me. It was not long after I set seriously to this
work, but I found my heart more deeply and sincerely affected
with the wickedness of my past life. The impression of my dream
revived, and the words, ‘“ All these things have not brought thee
to repentance,” ran seriously in my thought. I was earnestly
begging of God to give me repentance, when it happened provi-
dentially the very day that, reading the Scriptures, I came to these
words, ‘‘ He is exalted a Prince and a Saviour, to give repentance,
and to give remission.” J threw down the book, and with my
heart as well as my hands lifted up to heaven, in a kind of ecstasy
of joy, I cried out aloud, “ Jesus, thou Son of David, Jesus, thou
exalted Prince and Saviour, give me repentance |”

This was the first time that I could say, in the true sense of the
words, that I prayed in all my life; for now I prayed with a sense
of my condition, and with a true Scripture view of hope founded
on the encouragement of the Word of God; and from this time, I
may say, I began to have hope that God would hear me.

Now I began to construe the words mentioned above, “ Call on
ine, and I will deliver thee,” in a different sense from what I had
ever done before; for then I had no notion of anything being
called deliverance but ny being delivered from the captivity I was
in: for though I was indeed at large in the place, yet the island
was certainly a prison to me, and that in the worst sense in the
world; but now I learned to take it in another sense. Now 1
looked back upon my past life with such horror, and my sins ap-
peared so dreadful, that my soul sought nothing of God but
deliverance from the load of guilt that bore down all my comfort.
As for my solitary life, it was nothing; I did not so much as pray
to be delivered from it, or think of it; it was all of no considera-
tion in comparison to this. And I add this part here, to hint to
whoever shall read it, that whenever they come to a true sense
of things, they will find deliverance from sin a much greater
blessing than deliverance from affliction.
150 COMFORT IN THE LORD.

 

 

“THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME I PRAYED IN ALL MY LIFE.”

But leaving this part, I return to my journal.

My condition began now to be, though not less miserable as to
my way of living, yet much easier to my mind; and my thoughts
being directed, by a constant reading of the Scriptures and praying
to God, to things of a higher nature, I had a great deal of comfort
within, which till now I knew nothing of. Also, as my health and
strength returned, I bestirsed myself to furnish myself with every-
thing that I wanted, and make my way of living as regular as I could.

From the 4th of July to the 14th I was chiefly employed in
walking about with my gun in my hand, a little and a little at a
A SURVEY OF THE ISLAND. 151

time, as a man that was gathering up his strength after a fit of
sickness ; for it was hardly to be imagined how low I was, and to
what weakness I was reduced. The application which I made use
of was perfectly new, and perhaps what had never cured an ague
before, neither can I recommend it to any one to practise, by this
experiment ; and though it did carry off the fit, yet it rather con-
tributed to weakening me, for I had frequent convulsions in my
nerves and limbs for some time.

I learned from it also this in particular, that being abroad in the
rainy season was the most pernicious thing to my health that could
be, especially in those rains which came attended with storms
and hurricanes of wind; for as the rain which came in the dry
season was always most accompanied with such storms, so I found
that rain was much more dangerous than the rain which fell in
September and October.

T had been now in this unhappy island above ten months; all
possibility of deliverance from this condition seemed to be entirely
taken from me, and I firmly believed that no human shape had ever
set foot upon that place. Having now secured my habitation, as I
thought, fully to my mind, I had a great desire to make a more
perfect discovery of the island, and to see what other productions I
might find which I yet knew nothing of.

It was the 15th of July that I began to take a more particular
survey of the island itself. I went up the creek first, where, as I
hinted, I brought my rafts on shore. I found, after I came about
two miles up, that the tide did not flow any higher, and that it
was no more than a little brook of running water, and very fresh
and good; but this being the dry season, there was hardly any
water in some parts of it, at least not enough to run in any stream,
so as it could be perceived. On the bank of this brook I found
many pleasant savannas, or meadows, plain, smooth, and covered
with grass; and on the rising parts of them, next to the higher
grounds, where the water, as it might be supposed, never over-
flowed, I found a great deal of tobacco, green, and growing to a
great and very strong stalk. There were divers other plants which
I had no notion of, or understanding about, and might perhaps
have virtues of their own, which I could not find out.
162 A SURPRISING DISCOVERY.

1 searched for the cassava root, which the Indians in all that
climate make their bread of; but I could find none. I saw large
plants of aloes, but did not then understand them. I saw several
sugar canes, but wild, and, for want of cultivation, imperfect. |
contented myself with these discoveries for this time, and came
back musing with myself what course I might take to know the
virtue and goodness of any of the fruits or plants which T should
discover, but could bring it to no conclusion; for, in short, T had
made so little observation while I was in the Brazils, that T knew
little of the plants in the field, at least very little that might serve
me to any purpose now in my distress.

The next day, the 16th, I went up the same way again, and
after going something further than I had gone the day before,
I found the brook, and the savannas began to cease, and the country
became more woody than before. In this part I found different
fruits, and, particularly, T found melons upon the ground in great
abundance, and grapes upon the trees; the vines had spread in-
deed over the trees, and the clusters of grapes were just now in
their prime, very ripe and rich. This was a surprising discovery,
and I was exceeding glad of them; but I was warned by my
experience to eat sparingly of them, remembering that, when I
was ashore in Barbary, the eating of grapes killed several of our
Englishmen, who were slaves there, by throwing them into fluxes
and fevers. But I found an excellent use for these grapes, and
that was to cure or dry them in the sun, and keep them as dried
grapes or raisins are kept; which I thought would be, as indeed
they were, as wholesome as agreeable to eat, when no grapes
might be to be had.

I spent all that evening there, and went not back to my habita-
tion, which, by the way, was the first night, as I might say, I had
lain from home. In the night I took my first contrivance, and
got up into a tree, where I slept well; and the next morning pro-
ceeded upon my discovery, travelling nearly four miles, as I might
judge by the length of the valley, keeping still due north, with a
ridge of hills on the south and north side of me.

At the end of this march I came to an opening, where the
country scemed to descend to the west, and a little spring of fresh
THE HAPPY VALLEY. 168

water, which issued out of the side of the hill by me, ran the other
way, that is due east; and the country appeared so fresh, so green,
so flourishing, everything being in a constant verdure, or flourish
of spring, that it looked like a planted garden.

I descended a little on the side of that delicious vale, surveying
it with a secret kind of pleasure (though mixed with my other
afflicting thoughts)—to think that this was all my own, that I was
king and lord of all this country indefeasibly, and had a right of
possession ; and if I could convey it, I might have it in inherit-
ance, as completely as any lord of a manor in England. I saw
here abundance of cocoa trees, orange, and lemon, and citron trees,
but all wild, and very few bearing any fruit, at least not then.
However, the green limes that I gathered were not only pleasant
to eat, but very wholesome; and I mixed their juice afterwards
with water, which made it very wholesome, and very cool, and re-
freshing.

I found now I had business enough to gather and carry home ;
and I resolved to lay up a store, as well of grapes as limes and
lemons, to furnish myself for the wet season, which I knew was
approaching.

In order to this, I gathered a great heap of grapes in one place,
and a lesser heap in another place, and a great parcel of limes and
lemons in another place; and, taking a few of each with me, I
travelled homeward, and resolved to come again, and bring a bag or
sack, or what I could make to carry the rest home.

Accordingly, having spent three days in this journey, I came
home ;—so I must now call my tent and my cave. But, before I
got thither, the grapes were spoiled—the richness of the fruits and
the weight of the juice having broken them, and bruised them,
they were good for little or nothing; as to the limes, they were
good, but I could bring but a few.

The next day, being the 19th, I went back, having made me
two small bags to bring home my harvest. But I was surprised
when, coming to my heap of grapes, which were so rich and fine
when I gathered them, I found them all spread about, trod to
pieces, and dragged about, some here, some there, and abundance
eaten and devoured. By this I concluded there were some wild
164 BUILDING A BOWER.

creatures thereabouts which had done this, but what they were I
knew not.

However, as I found that there was no laying them up on heaps,
and no carrying them away in a sack, but that one way they would
be destroyed, and the other way they would be crushed with their
own weight, I took another course; for I gathered a large quantity
of the grapes, and hung them up upon the out branches of the
trees, that they might cure and dry in the sun; and as for the
limes and lemons, I carried as many back as I could well stand
under.

When I came home from this journey I contemplated with great
pleasure the fruitfulness of that valley and the pleasantness of the
situation, the security from storms on that side the water, and the
wood, and concluded that I had pitehed upon a place to fix my
abode which was by far the worst part of the country. Upon the
whole I began to consider of removing my habitation, and to look
out for a place equally safe as where I now was situate, if possible,
in that pleasant fruitful part of the island.

This thought ran long in my head, and I was exceeding fond
of it for some time, the pleasantness of the place tempting me;
but when I came to a nearer view of it, and to consider that I was
now by the sea-side, where it was at least possible that something
might happen to my advantage, and by the same ill fate that
brought me hither might bring some other unhappy wretches to
the same place; and though it was scarce probable that any such
thing should ever happen, yet to enclose myself among the hills
and woods, in the centre of the island, was to anticipate my bond-
age, and to render such an affair not only improbable but impos-
sible; and that, therefore, I ought not by any means to remove.

However, I was so enamoured of this place, that I spent much
of my time there for the whole remaining part of the month of
July; and though, upon second thoughts, I resolved as above, not
to remove, yet I built me a little kind of a bower, and surrounded
it at a distance with a strong fence, being a double hedge, as high as
T could reach, well staked, and filled between with brushwood; and
here I lay very secure, sometimes two or three nights together,
always going over it with a ladder as before; so that I fancied
GATHERING THE VINTAGE. 155

now I had my country house and my sea-coast house. And this
work took me up to the beginning of August.

IT had but newly finished my fence and begun to enjoy my
labour, when the rains came on, and made me stick close to my
first habitation. For though I had made me a tent like the other,
with a piece of a sail, and spread it very well, yet I had not the
shelter of a hill to keep me from storms, nor a cave behind me to
retreat into when the rains were extraordinary.

About the beginning of August, as I said, I had finished my
bower and begun to enjoy myself. The 8rd of August I found
the grapes I had hung up were perfectly dried, and, indeed, were
excellent good raisins of the sun; so I began to take them down
from the trees, and it was very happy that I did so, for the rains
which followed would have spoiled them, and I had lost the best
part of my winter food, for I had above two hundred large bunches
of them. No sooner had I taken them all down, and carried most
of them home to my cave but it began to rain, and from hence,
which was the 14th of August, it rained more or less every day
till the middle of October; and sometimes £0 violently that I could
not stir out of my cave for several days,

In this season I was much surprised with the increase of my
family. I had been concerned for the loss of one of my cats,
which ran away from me, or as I thought had been dead, and I
heard no more tale or tidings of her till, to my astonishment, she
came home about the end of August with three kittens! This
was the more strange to me because, though I had killed a wild
cat, as I called it, with my gun, yet I thought it was a quite
different kind from our European cats; yet the young cats were
the same kind of house breed like the old one; and both my cats
being females, I thought it very strange. But from these three
cats I afterwards came to be so pestered with cats that I was
forced to kill them like vermin or wild beasts, and to drive them
from my house as much as possible.

From the 14th of August to the 26th incessant rain, so that I]
could not stir, and was now very careful not to be much wet. In
this confinement I began to be straitened for food, but venturing
out twice, I one day killed a goat, and the last day, which was the
156 A MOURNFUL ANNIVERSARY.

26th, found a very large tortoise, which was a treat to me; and
my food was regulated thus:—I ate a bunch of raisins for my
breakfast, a piece of the goat’s flesh or of the turtle for my dinner
broiled—for to my great misfortune I had no vessel to boil or
stew anything —and two or three of the turtle’s eggs for my supper.

During this confinement in my cover by the rain I worked daily
two or three hours at enlarging my eave, and by degrees worked
it on towards one side till [ came to the outside of the hill, and
made a door or way out, which came beyond my fence or wall, and
so I came in and out this way. But I was not perfectly easy at
lying so open; for as I had managed myself before, 1 was in a
perfect enclosure, whereas now I thought I lay exposed and open
for anything to come in upon me. And yet I could not perceive
that there was any living thing to fear, the biggest creature that
I had yet seen upon the island being a goat.

September the 30th. I was now come to the unhappy anni-
versary of my landing. I cast up the notches on my post, and
found I had been on shore 865 days. I kept this day as a solemn
fast, setting it apart to religious exercise, prostrating myself on
the ground with the most serious humiliation, confessing my sins
to God, acknowledging his righteous judgments upon me, and
praying to him to have mercy on me through Jesus Christ. And
having not tasted the least refreshment for twelve hours, even till
the going down of the sun, I then ate a biscuit cake and a bunch
of grapes, and went to bed, finishing the day as I began it.

Thad all this time observed no Sabbath-day; forvas at first T
had no sense of religion upon my mind, I had after sometime
omitted to distinguish the weeks by making a longer notch than
ordinary for the Sabbath-day, and so did not really know what any
of the days were. But now having cast up the days as above, |
found I had been there a year, so | divided it into weeks, and set
apart every seventh day for a Sabbath; though T found at the end
of my account I had lost a day or two in my reckoning.

A little after this my ink began to fail me, and so I contented
myself to use it more sparingly, and to write down only the most
remarkable events of my life, without continuing a daily memo-
randum of other things.
SEED FALLEN ON DRY GROUND. 167

The rainy season and the dry season began now to appear regu-
lar to me; and I learned to divide them, so as to provide for them
accordingly. But 1 bought all my experience before I had it;
and this I am going to relate was one of the most discouraging
experiments that I made at all. I have mentioned that I had
saved the few ears of barley and rice which I had so surprisingly
found springing up, as I thought of themselves, and believe there
were about thirty stalks of rice, and about twenty of barley. And
now I thought it a proper time to sow it after the rains, the sun
being in its southern position going from me.

Accordingly I dug up a piece of ground as well as 1 could with
my wooden spade, and dividing it into two parts, I sowed my
grain; but as I was sowing it casually occurred to my thoughts
that I would not sow it all at first, because I did not know when
was the proper time for it, so I sowed about two-thirds of the
seed, leaving about a handful of each.

It was a great comfort to me afterwards that I did so, for not
one grain of that I sowed this time came to anything; for the dry
months following, the earth having had no rain after the seed was
sown, it had no moisture to assist its growth, and never came up
at all till the wet season had come again, and then it grew as if
it had been but newly sown.

Finding my first seed did not grow, which I easily imagined
was by the drought, I sought for a moister piece of ground to
make another trial in; and I dug upa piece of ground near my new
bower, and sowed the rest of my seed in February, a little before
the vernal equinox; and this having the rainy months of March
and April to water it, sprung up very pleasantly, and yielded a
very good crop. But having part of the seed left only, and not
daring to sow all that I had, I had but a small quantity at last,
my whole crop not amounting to above half a peck of each kind.

But by this experiment I was made master of my business, and
knew exactly when the proper season was to sow; and that I
might expect two seed-times and two harvests every year.

While this corn was growing I made a little discovery, which
was of use to me afterwards. As soon as the rains were over and
the weather began to settle which was about the month of No-
168 A RAPID GROWTH.

 

‘1 DUG UP A PIECE OF GROUND AS WELL AS I COULD "

vember, I made a visit up the country to my bower, where, though
T had not been some months, yet I found all things just as I left
them. The circle, or double hedge, that I had made was not only
firm and entire, but the stakes, which I had cut out of some trees
that grew thereabouts, were all shot out and grown with long
branches, as much as a willow-tree usually shoots the first year
after lopping its head. I could not tell what tree to call it that
these stakes were cut from. I was surprised and yet very well
WET AND DRY SEASONS. 159

pleased to see the young frees grow; and [ pruned them, and led
them up to grow as much alike as T could; and it is scarce credible
how beautiful a figure they grew into in three years. So that,
though the hedge made a circle of about twenty-five yards in
diameter, yet the trees (such T might now call them) soon covered
it: and it was a complete shade, sufficient to lodge under all the
dry season.

This made me resolve to cut some more stakes, and make me a
hedge like this in a semicircle round my wall—I mean that of my
first dwelling-—which I did: and placing the trees or stakes im a
double row, at about cight yards distance from my first fence, they
grew presently, and were at first a fine cover to my habitation,
and afterwards served as a defence also, as T shall observe in its order.

T found now that the seasons of the year might generally be
divided, not into summer and winter, as in Europe, but into the

rainy seasons and the dry seasons, which were generally thus :-—

Half February.
March. { Rainy—the sun being then on or near the Equinox
Half April,
Half April,
May,
June, | Dry—the sun being then fo the north of the Line
July,
Half August, J
Half August, >
September, | Rainy—the sun being then come back.
Half October,
Half October,

November,
December, | Dry—the sun being then to the south of the Line
January,

 

Half February,

The rainy season sometimes held longer or shorter, as the
winds happened to blow, but this was the general observation I
made. After [ had found, by experience, the ill consequence of
being abroad in the rain, I took care to furnish myself with pro-
visions beforehand, that I might not be obliged to go out; and I
sat within doors as much as possible during the wet months.

(284) 11
160 CRUSOE A BASKET-MAKEBR,

Tn this time I found much employment (and very suitable alse
to the time), for I found great occasion of many things which I
had no way to furnish myself with but by hard labour and con-
stant application; particularly I tried many ways to make myself
a basket, but all the twigs IT could get for the purpose proved se
brittle that they would do nothing. It proved of excellent advan-
tage to me now, that when LT was a boy [ used to take great
delight in standing at a basket-maker’s in the town where my
father lived to see them make their wieker-ware; and being, as
boys usually are, very officious to help, and a great observer of the
manner how they worked those things, and sometimes lending a
hand, T had by this means full knowledge of the methods of it.
that T wanted nothing but the materials, when it came into my
mind that the twigs of that tree from whence I cut my stakes that
grew might possibly be as tough as the sallows, and willows, and
osiers in England, and I resolved to try.

Accordingly the next day I went to my country-house, as T
called it, and cutting some of the smaller twigs, [ found them to
my purpose as much as [ could desire; whereupon I came the
next time prepared with a hatchet to eut down a quantity, which
L soon found, for there was great plenty of them. These I set up
to dry within my cirele or hedge, and when they were fit for use
T carried them to my cave, and here during the next season T em-
ployed myself in making, as well as T could, a great many baskets.
both to carry earth, or to carry or lay up anything as I had occa-
sion; and though I did not finish them very handsomely, vet |
made them sufficiently serviceable for my purpose ; and thus after-
wards I took care never to be without them, And as my wicker-
ware decayed I made more; especially I made strong deep baskets
to place my corn in instead of sacks, when I should come to have
any quantity of it.

Having mastered this difficulty, and employed a world of time
about it, I bestirred myself to see if possible how to supply two wants.
[ had no vessels to hold anything that was liquid except two run-
lets, which were almost full of rum, and some glass bottles, some
ot the common size, and others which were case-bottles syuare, for
the holding of water, spirits, Gc. I had not so much as a pot to
A SIGHT OF THE MAINLAND, 161

boil anything, except a great kettle, which T saved out of the ship
and which was too big for such use as [ desired—namely, to make
broth, and stew a bit of meat by itself. ‘The second thing I would
fain have had was a tobacco-pipe, but it was impossible to me to
make one; however I found a contrivance for that too at last.

I employed myself in planting my second row of stakes or piles
and in this wicker-working all the summer or dry season, when
another business took me up more time than it could he imagined T
could spare.

I mentioned before that I had a great mind to see the whole
island, and that [ had travelled up the brook, and so on to where
L built my bower, and where [ had an opening quite to the sea on
the other side of the island. T now resolved to travel quite across
to the sea-shore on that side; so taking my gun, a hatchet, and
my dog, and a larger quantity of powder and shot than usual, with
two biscuit cakes, and a great bunch of raisins in my pouch for
my store, I began my journey. When I haa passed the vale where
my bower stood as above, I came within view of the sea to the
west, and it being a very clear day I fairly descried land, whether
an island or a continent I could not tell; but it lay very high,
extending from the west to the west-south-west at a very great
distance. By my guess it could not be less than fifteen or twenty
leagues off.

T could not tell what part of the world this might be, otherwise
than that I knew it must be part of America, and, as I concluded
by all my observations, must be near the Spanish dominions; and
perhaps was all inhabited by savages, where, if I should have
landed, I had been in a worse condition than I was now; and
therefore I acquiesced in the dispositions of Providence, which I
began now to own and to believe ordered everything for the best;
I say I quieted my mind with this, and left afflicting myself with
{ruitless wishes of being there.

Besides, after some pause upon this affair, I considered that if
this land was the Spanish coast, I should certainly, one time or
other, see some vessel pass or repass one way or other; but if not,
then it was the savage coast between the Spanish country and the
Brazils, which are indeed the worst of savages, for they are can-
162 CRUSOE ON A TOUR.

 

“1 CAME WITHIN VIEW OF THE SEA TO TITE WEST.”

nibals, or men-eaters, and fail not to murder and devour all the
human bodies that fall into their hands.

With these considerations I walked very leisurely forward. [
found that side of the island where I now was much pleasanter
than mine; the open or savanna fields sweet, adorned with flowers
and grass, and full of very fine woods. I saw abundance of parrots,
and fain I would have caught one, if possible, to have kept it to
be tame. and taught it to speak to me. I did, after some pains-
THREE KINDS OF FOOD. 168

taking, catch a young parrot, for [ knocked it down with a stick,
and having recovered it I brought it home; but it was some years
before I could make him speak. However, at last I taught him
to call me by my name very familiarly. But the accident that
followed, though it be a trifle, will be very diverting in its place.

I was exceedingly diverted with this journey. I found in the
low grounds hares, as I thought them to be, and foxes; but they
differed greatly from all the other kinds I had met with, nor could
I satisfy myself to eat them, though I killed several. But I had
no need to be venturous, for I had no want of food, and of that
which was very good too; especially these three sorts—namely,
goats, pigeons, and turtle or tortoise, which added to my grapes,
Leadenhall Market could not have furnished a table better than I
in proportion to the company. And though my case was deplor-
able enough, yet I had great cause for thankfulness, and that I
was not driven to any extremities for food, but rather plenty, even
to dainties.

I never travelled in this journey above two miles outright in a
day, or thereabouts. But I took so many turns and returns to see
what discoveries I could make that I came weary enough to the
place where I resolved to sit down for all night; and then I either
reposed myself in a tree, or surrounded myself with a row of stakes
set upright in the ground, either from one tree to another, or so as
no wild creature could come at me without waking me.

As soon as I came to the sea-shore I was surprised to see that I
had taken up my lot on the worst side of the island; for here,
indeed, the shore was covered with innumerable turtles, whereas
on the other side I had found but three in a year and a half.
Here was also an infinite number of fowls of many kinds; some
which I had seen, and some which I had not seen before—and
many of them very good meat—but such as I knew not the names
of, except those called penguins.

I could have shot as many as I pleased, but was very sparing of
my powder and shot, and therefore had more mind to kill a she-
goat if I could, which I could better feed on; and though there
were mnany goats here—more than on my side the island — yet it
was with much more difficulty that IT could come near them. the
164 A WOODED VALLEY.

country being flat and even, and they saw me much svuner than
when I was on the hill.

I confess this side of the country was much pleasanter than
mine; but yet | had not the least inclination to remove, for as 1
was fixed in my habitation, it became natural to me, and 1 seemed
all the while 1 was here to be as it were upon a journey, and from
home. However, I travelled along the shore of the sea towards
the east, [ suppose about twelve miles; and then, setting up a
great pole upon the shore for a mark, ] concluded I would go
home again, and that the next journey 1 took should be on the
other side of the island east from my dwelling, and so round till I
came to my post again: of which in its place.

I took another way to come back than that I went, thinking I
could easily keep all the island so much in my view that 1 could
not miss finding my first dwelling by viewing the country. But I
found myself mistaken ; for being come about two or three miles,
T found myself descended into a very large valley, but so sur-
rounded with hills, and those hills covered with wood, that 1 could
not see which was my way by any direction but that of the sun,
nor even then, unless | knew very well the position of the sun at
that time of the day.

It happened, to my further mislurtune, that the weather proved
hazy for three or four days while Twas in this valley; and not
being able to see the sun, T wandered about very uncomiortably,
and at last was obliged to find out the sea-side, look for my post,
and come back the same way I went. And then by easy journeys
L turned homeward, the weather being exveeding hot, and my gun,
ammunition, hatchet, and other things, very heavy.

In this journey my dog surprised a young kid, and seized upon
it, and T running in to take hold of it, caught it, and saved it alive
from the dog. I hada great mind to bring it home if I could;
for Thad often been musing whether it might not be possible tu
get a kid or two, and so raise a breed of tame goats, which might
supply me when my powder and shut should be all spent.

Tmade a collar to this little creature, and with a string which 1
made of some rope-yarn, which T always carried about me, I led
him along, though with some difficulty, till T came to my bower ;
ONCHK MORE ‘SAT HOME,” 165

and there 1 enclosed him and ieft him, for T was very impatient te
be at home, from whence JT had been absent above a month.

T cannot express what a satisiaction it was to me to come inte
my old huteh and lie down in my hammock-bed. This little
wandering journey, without settled place of abode, had been so
unpleasant to me, that my own house, as 1 called it to myself, was
a perfect settlement to me compared to that ; and it rendered
everything about me so comlortable that T resolved J would never
vo a eveat way from it again while it should be my lot to stay on
the island.

1 reposed inysell’ here a week, to rest and regale myself alter
my Jong journey ; during which most of the time was taken up in
the weighty affair of making a cage for my poll, which began now
to be a mere
domestic, and to
be aighty well
acquainted with
ine. Uben T be-
van to think of
the poor kid
which Thad
penned in within
iny little cirele,
aud resolved to
vo and fetch it
home or give it
some food.  Ac-
cordingly L went,
and found it
where | left it;
for, indeed, it
could not get
out, but almost
starved for want
of food. I went
and cut boughs

 

ef trees, and “Iv FOLLOWED ME LIKE A DOG.”
166 CLOSE OF THE SECOND YEAR.

branches of such shrubs as I could find, and threw it over; and
having fed it, I tied it as I did before, to lead it away. But it was
so tame with being hungry that I had no need to have tied it,
for it followed me like a dog; and as I continually fed it, the
creature became so loving, so gentle, and so fond, that it became
from that time one of my domestics also, and would never leave
afterwards.

The rainy season of the autummal equinox was now come, and
I kept the 30th of September in the same solemn manner as
before; being the anniversary of my landing on the island, having
now been there two years, and no more prospect of being delivered
than the first day I came there. I spent the whole day in humble
and thankful acknowledgments of the many wonderful mercies
which my solitary condition was attended with, and without which
it might have been infinitely more miserable. I gave humble and
hearty thanks that God had been pleased to discover to me even
that it was possible I might be more happy in this solitary con-
dition than I should have been in a liberty of society and in all
the pleasures of the world; that he could fully make up to me the
deficiencies of my solitary state, and the want of human society,
by his presence, and the communications of his grace to my soul—
supporting, comforting, and encouraging me to depend upon his
providence here, and hope for his eternal presence hereafter.

It was now that [ began sensibly to feel how much more happy
this life I now led was, with all its miserable circumstances, than
the wicked, cursed, abominable life I led all the past part of my
days. And now I changed both my sorrows and my joys: my
very desires altered, my affections changed their gusts, and my
delights were perfectly new from what they were at my first
coming, or indeed for the two years past.

Before, as I walked about, either on my hunting or for viewing
the country, the anguish of my soul at my condition would break
out upon me on a sudden, and my very heart would die within me
to think of the woods, the mountains, the deserts I was in, and
how I was a prisoner locked up with the eternal bars and_ bolts of
the ocean, in an uninhabited wilderness, without redemption. In
the midst of the greatest vomposures of my mind, this would
CRUSOL’S DAILY COMPANIONS. 167

break out upon me like a storm, and make me wring my hands
and weep like a child. Sometimes it would take me in the middle
of my work ; and I would immediately sit down and sigh, and
look upon the ground for an hour or two together. And this was
still worse to me; for if I could burst out into tears or vent
myself by words it would go off, and the grief, having exhausted
itself, would abate.

But now I began to exercise myself with new thoughts. I
daily read the Word of God, and applied all the comforts of it to
my present state. One morning, being very sad, I opened the
Bible upon these words, “TI will never, never leave thee, nor for-
sake thee.” Immediately it occurred that these words were to
me. Why else should they be directed in such a manner, just at
the moment when I was mourning over my condition as one for-
saken of God and man? “ Well, then,” said I, “if God does not
forsake me, of what ill consequence can it be, or what matters it,
though the world should all forsake me, seeing on the other hand
if T had all the world, and should lose the favour and blessing of
God, there would be no comparison in the loss ?”

From this moment I began to conclude in my mind that it was
possible for me to be more happy in this forsaken, solitary con-
dition, than it was probable I should ever have been in any other
particular state in the world; and with this thought I was going
to give thanks to God for bringing me to this place. I know not
what it was, but something shocked my mind at that thought,
and I durst not speak the words. ‘“ How canst thou be such a
hypocrite,” said I, even audibly, “to pretend to be thankful for a
condition which, however thou mayst endeavour to be contented
with, thou wouldst rather pray heartily to be delivered from?”
So I stopped there. But though I could not say I thanked God
for being there, yet I sincerely gave thanks to God for opening
my eyes, by whatever afflicting pro idences, to see the former con-
dition of my life, and to mourn for my wickedness and repent. I
never opened the Bible or shut it but my very soul within me
blessed God for directing my friend in England, without any order
of mine, to pack it up among my goods, and for assisting me after:
wards to save it out of the wreck of the ship.
168 FOR EVERY HOUR ITS WORK.

   
    

WUS, and in this disposition of mind, I began
~\my third year, And though T have not given
s.the reader the trouble of so particular account
~of my works this year as the first, yet in
\ general it may be observed that I was very
seldom idle, but having regularly divided my
/ SRS time according to the several daily employments
that were before ie—such as, first, my duty to God and the reading
the Scriptures, which I constantly set apart some time for thrice
every day; secondly, the going abroad with my gun for food,
which generally took me up three hours in every morning when it
did not rain; thirdly, the ordering, curing, preserving, and cook-
ing what I had killed or caught for my supply,—these took up
great part of the day. Also it is to be considered that the middle
of the day, when the sun was in the zenith, the violence of the
heat was too great to stir out, so that about four hours in the
evening was all the time I could be supposed to work in; with
this exception, that sometimes I changed my hours of hunting and
working, and went to work in the morning and abroad with my
gun in the afternoon.

To this short time allowed for labour I desire may be added
the exceeding laboriousness of my work—the many hours which,
for want of tools, want of help, and want of skill, everything I did
tuok up out of my time. For example, I was full two-and-forty
days making me a board for a long shelf which I wanted in my
cave; whereas two sawyers, with their tools and a saw-pit, would
have cut six of them out of the same tree in half a day.

My case was this: It was to be a large tree which was to be
cut down, because my board was to be a broad one. This tree I
was three days a cutting down, and two more cutting off the
boughs, and reducing it to a log or piece of timber. With inex
AGRICULTURAL OPERATIONS, 169

pressible hacking and hewing I reduced both the sides of it into
chips till it began to be light enough to move; then I turned it,
and made one side of it smooth and flat as a board from end to
end; then, turning that side downward, cut the other side, till |
brought the plank to be about three inches thick, and smooth on
both sides. Any one may judge the labour of my hands in such a
piece of work ; but labour and patience carried me through that
and many other things. I only observe this in particular, to show
the reason why so much of my time went away with so little
work —namely, that what might be a little to be done with help
and tools, was a vast labour and required a prodigious time to do
alone and by hand.

But notwithstanding this, with patience and labour T went
through many things; and, indeed, everything that my cireum-
stances made necessary to me to do, as will appear by what follows.
L was now—in the months of November and December—expect-
ing my crop of barley and rice. The ground [ had manured or
dug up for them was not great; for, as I observed, my seed of
each was not above the quantity of half a peck, for T had lost one
whole crop by sowing in the dry season. But now my crop
promised very well, when ou a sudden T found T was in danger of
losing it all again hi enemies of several sorts, which it was scarce
possible to keep from it: as, first, the goats, and wild creatures
which I called hares, which, tasting the sweetness of the blade, lay
in it night and day as soon as it came up, and ate it so close that
it could get no time to shoot up into stalk. This I saw no remedy
for but by making an enclosure about it with a hedge; which I did
with a great deal of toil, and the more because it required speed.
However, as my arable land was but small, suited to my crop, I
got it totally well fenced in about three weeks’ time; and shooting
some of the creatures in the day-time, I set my dog to guard it in
the night, tying him up to a stake at the gate, where he would
stand and bark all night long. So ina little time the enemies
forsook the place, and the corn grew very strong and well, and
began to ripen apace.

But as the beasts ruined me before while my corn was in the
blade, so the birds were as likely to ruin me now when it was in
170 SCARING THE THIEVES.

the ear; for going along by the place to see how it throve, I saw
my little crop surrounded with fowls of I know not how many
sorts, which stood as it were watching till I should be gone. I
immediately let fly among them, for I always had my gun with
me. I had no sooner shot but there rose up a little cloud of fowls—
which I had not seen at all—from among the corn itself.

This touched me sensibly, for I foresaw that in a few days they
would devour all my hopes; that I should be starved, and never be
able to raise a crop at all: and what to do I could not tell. How-
ever, I resolved not to lose my corn, if possible, though I should
watch it night and day. In the first place, I went among it to see
what damage was already done; and found they had spoiled a good
deal of it, but that, as it was yet too green for them, the loss was
not so great but that the remainder was like to be a good crop if
it could be saved.

I stayed by it to load my gun; and then coming away I could
easily see the thieves sitting upon all the trees about me, as if they
only waited till I was gone away. And the event proved it to be
so; for as I walked off as if I was gone, I was no sooner out of
their sight but they dropped down one by one into the corn again.
I was so provoked that I could not have patience to stay till more
came on, knowing that every grain that they ate now was, as it
might be said, a peck loaf to me in the consequence ; but coming
up to the hedge I fired again, and killed three of them. This was
what I wished for: so I took them up, and served them as we
serve notorious thieves in England— namely, hanged them in
chains for a terror to others. It is impossible to imagine almost
that this should have such an effect as it had; for the fowls would
not only not come at the corn, but, in short, they forsook all that
part of the island, and I could never see a bird near the place as
long as my scarecrows hung there.

This I was very glad of, you may be sure; and about the latter
end of December, which was our second harvest of the year, I
reaped my crop. I was sadly put to it for a scythe or a sickle to
cut it down; and all I could do was to make one as well as I
could out of one of the broad swords or cutlasses which I saved
among the arms out of the ship. However, as my first erop was
WORKING FOR ONE'S BREAD. 171

but small, 1 had no great difficulty to cut it down. In short, 1
reaped it my way, for I cut nothing off but the ears, and carried
it away in a great basket which I had made, and so rubbed it out
with my hands; and at the end of all my harvesting I found that
out of my half-peck of seed I had near two bushels of rice and
above two bushels and a half of barley—that is to say, by my guess,
for I had no measure at that time.

However, this was a great encouragement to me, and I foresaw
that in time it would please God to supply me with bread. And
yet here I was perplexed again: for I neither knew how to grind
or make meal of my corn, or, indeed, how to clean it and part it ;
nor, if made into meal, how to make bread of it; and if how to
make it, yet I knew not how to bake it. These things being
added to my desire of having a good quantity for store, and to
secure a constant supply, I resolved not to taste any of this
crop, but to preserve it all for seed against the next season; and
in the meantime to employ all my study and hours of working to
accomplish this great work of providing myself with corn and
bread.

It might be truly said that now I worked for my bread. It is
a little wonderful, and what I believe few people have thought
much upon—namely, the strange multitude of little things neces-
sary in the providing, producing, curing, dressing, making, and
finishing this one article of bread. I that was reduced to a mere
state of nature found this to my daily discouragement, and was
made more and more sensible of it every hour, even after I had
got the first handful of seed-corn ; which, as I have said, came up
unexpectedly, and indeed to a surprise.

First, I had no plough to turn up the earth, no spade or shovel
to dig it. Well, this I conquered by making a wooden spade, as
I observed before. But this did my work in but a wooden manner ;
and though it cost me a great many days to make it, yet for want
of iron it not only wore out the sooner, but made my work the
harder, and made it be performed much worse. However, this I
bore with, and was content to work it out with patience, and bear
with the badness of the performance. When the corn was sown |
had no harrow, but was forced to go over it myself, and drag a
172 PREPARING THE GROUND.

great heavy bough of a tree over it, to scratch it, as it may be
called, rather than rake or harrow it.

When it was growing and grown, [ have observed already, how
many things L wanted, to fence it, secure it, mow or reap it, cure
and carry it home, thrash, part it from the chaff, and save it.
Then I wanted a mill to grind it, sieves to dress it, yeast and salt
to make it into bread, and an oven to bake it; and yet all these
things I did without, as shall be observed: and yet the corn was
an inestimable comfort and advantage to me too, All this, as T
said, made everything laborious and tedious to me, but that there
was no help for, neither was my time so much loss to me, because,
as I had divided it, a certain part of it was every day appointed
to these works. And as I resolved to use none of the corn for
bread till I had a greater quantity by me, IT had the next six
months to apply myself wholly by labour and invention to furnish
myself with utensils proper for the performing all the operations
necessary for the making the corn (when L had it) fit for my use.

But, first, [was to prepare more land, for T had now seed enough
to sow above an acre of ground. Before I did this [ had a week’s
work at least to make me a spade; which, when it was done, was
but a sorry one indeed, and very heavy, and required double
labour to work with it. However, I went through that, and
sowed my seed in two large flat pieces of ground as near my house
as TL could find them to my mind, and fenced them in with a good
hedge, the stakes of which were all cut of that wood which T had
set before, and knew it would grow; so that in one year’s time I
knew I should have a quick or living hedge, that would want but
little repair. This work was not so little as to taice me up less
than three months, because creat part of that time was of the wet
season, when [ could not go abroad.

Within doors—that is, when it rained, and T could not go out—
T found employment on the following occasions, always observing
that all the while I was at work [ diverted myself with talking to
my parrot, and teaching him to speak; and T quickly learned him
to know his own name, and at last to speak it ont pretty lond—
Pout, which was the first word T ever heard spoken in the island
by any mouth but my own. This, therefore, was not my work.
A NEW PROJECT. 173

 

“ft QUICKLY LEARNED HLM TO KNOW HIS OWN NAME.”

but an assistant to my work; for now, as I said, I had a great
employment upon my hands, as follows—namely, I had long
studied by some means or other to make myself some earthen
vessels, which indeed I wanted sorely, but knew not where to
come at them. However, considering the heat of the climate, I
did not doubt but if I could find out any such clay, L might botch
up some pot as might, being dried in the sun, be hard enough and
strong enough to bear handling, and to hold anything that was
dry and required to be kept so. And as this was necessary in the
preparing corn, meal, &e., which was the thing I was upon, I
resolved to make some as large as I could, and fit only to stand
like jars to hold what should be put into them.

7
174 CRUSOE AS A POTTER.

It would make the reader pity me, or rather laugh at me, to
tell how many awkward ways I took to raise this paste ; what odd,
misshapen, ugly things I made; how many of them fell in, and
how many fell out, the clay not being stiff enough to bear its own
weight; how many cracked by the over-violent heat of the sun,
being set out too hastily; and how many fell in pieces with only
removing as well before as after they were dried; and, in a word,
how, after having laboured hard to find the clay, to dig it, to
temper it, to bring it home and work it, I could not make above
two large earthen ugly things—I cannot call them jars—in about
two months’ labour. -

However, as the sun baked these two very dry and hard, 1 lifted
them very gently up, and set them down again in two great
wicker baskets which I had made on purpose for them, that they
might not break; and as between the pot and the basket there
was a little room to spare, I stuffed it full of the rice and barley
straw. And these two pots being to stand always dry, I thought
would hold my dry corn, and perhaps the meal, when the corn
was bruised.

Though I miscarried so much in my design for large pots, yet
I made several smaller things with better success—such as little
round pots, flat dishes, pitchers, and pipkins, and any things my
hand turned to; and the heat of the sun baked them strangely
hard.

But all this would not answer my end, which was to get an
earthen pot to hold what was liquid, and bear the fire, which none
of these could do. It happened after some time, making a pretty
large fire for cooking my meat, when I went to put it out after T
had done with it, I found a broken piece of one of my earthen-
ware vessels in the fire burned as hard as a stone, and red asa
tile. I was agreeably surprised to see it, and said to myself, that
certainly they might be made to burn whole if they would burn
broken.

This set me to studying how to order my fire, so as to make it
burn me some pots. I had no notion of a kiln, such as the potters
burn in; or of glazing them with lead, though I had some lead to
do it with ; but I placed three large pipkins and two or three pote
FINIS CORONAT OPUS. 176

in a pile, one upon another, and placed my fire-wood all round it,
with a great heap of embers under them. I plied the fire with
fresh fuel round the outside and upon the top till I saw the pots
in the inside red hot quite through, and observed that they did
not crack at all. When I saw them clear red, I let them stand
in that heat about five or six hours, till I found one of them,
though it did not crack, did melt or run; for the sand which was
mixed with the clay melted by the violence of the heat, and would
have run into glassif I had gone on, so I slacked my fire gradually,
till the pots began to abate of the red colour; and watching them

 

“T PLIED THE FIRE WITH FRESH FUEL.”

all night that I might not let the fire abate too fast, in the morn-
ing 1 had three very good—I will not say handsome — pipkins
and two other earthen pots as hard burned as could be desired,
and one of them perfectly glazed with the running of the sand.

After this experiment I need not say that I wanted no sort of
earthenware for my use; but I must needs say, as to the shapes
of them, they were very indifferent, as any one may suppose,
when I had no way of making them but as the children make
dirt-pies, or as a woman would make pies that never learned to
raise paste.

No joy at a thing of so mean a nature was ever equal to mine
when I found I had made an earthen pot that would bear the fire ;
and I had hardly patience to stay till they were cold before I set
one upon the fire again with some water in it to boil me some
meat, which it did admirably well. And with a piece of a kid J]

made some very good broth, though J wanted oatmeal, and
(284) l2
176 WHAT NECESSITY DOES,

several other ingredients requisite to make it so good as I would
have had it been.

My next concern was, to get me a stone mortar to stamp or beat
some corn in; for as to the mill, there was no thought of arriving
to that perfection of art with one pair of hands. To supply this
want I was at a great loss; for of all trades in the world, I was
as perfectly unqualified for a stone-cutter as for any whatever ,
neither had I any tools to go about it with. I spent many a day
to find out a great stone big enough to cut hollow, and make fit
for a mortar, and could find none at all, except what was in the
solid rock, and which I had no way to dig or cut out: nor, in-
deed, were the rocks in the island of hardness sufficient, but were
all of a sandy, crumbling stone, which neither would bear the
weight of a heavy pestle, or would break the corn without filling
it with sand. So after a great deal of time lost in searching for
a stone, I gave it over, and resolved to look out for a great block
of hard wood, which I found indeed much easier; and getting one
as big as I had strength to stir, I rounded it, and formed it in
the outside with my axe and hatchet, and then, with the help of
fire and infinite labour, made a hollow place in it, as the Indians
in Brazil make their canoes. After this I made a great heavy
pestle or beater of the wood called the iron-wood, and this I pre-
pared and laid by against I had my next crop of corn, when I
proposed to myself to grind, or rather pound, my corn into meal
to make my bread.

My next difficulty was to make a sieve, or search, to dress my
meal, and to part it from the bran and the husk, without which I
did not see it possible I could have any bread. This was a most
difficult thing so much as but to think on; for to be sure I had
nothing like the necessary thing to make it—I mean fine thin
canvas, or stuff to search the meal through. And here I was at
a full stop for many months; nor did I really know what to do.
Linen I had none left, but what was mere rags. I had goats’ hair,
but neither knew I how to weave it or spin it; and had I known
how, here were no tools to work it with. All the remedy that I
found for this was, that at last I did remember I had among the
seamen’s clothes which were saved out of the ship some neckcloths
BAKING EXTRAORDINARY. 17)

of calico or muslin; and with some pieces of these I made three
small sieves, but proper enough for the work. And thus I made
shift for some years. How I did afterwards I shall show in its
place.

The baking part was the next thing to be considered, and how
I should make bread when I came to have com; for, first, I had
no yeast. As to that part, as there was no supplying the want,
so I did not concern myself much about it; but for an oven I
was indeed in great pain. At length I found out an experiment
for that also, which was this—I made some earthen vessels very
broad, but not deep; that is to say, about two feet diameter, and
not above nine inches deep, these I burned in the fire, as I had
done the other, and laid them by; and when I wanted to bake, I
made a great fire upon my hearth, which I had paved with some
square tiles of my own making and burning also—but I should
not call them square.

When the firewood was burned pretty much into embers, or
live coals, I drew them forward upon this hearth, so as to cover it
all over, and there I let them lie till the hearth was very hot;
then sweeping away all the embers, I set down my loaf or loaves,
and whelming down the earthen pot upon them, drew the embers
all round the outside of the pot, to keep in and add to the heat;
and thus, as well as in the best oven in the world, I baked my
barley loafs, and became in little time a mere pastry-cook into the
bargain; for 1 made myself several cakes of the rice, and puddings.
Indeed I made no pies, neither had I anything to put into them
supposing I had, except the flesh either of fowls or goats.

It need not be wondered at if all these things took me up most part
of the third year of my abode here; for it is to be observed that,
in the intervals of these things, I had my new harvest and hus-
bandry to manage; for I reaped my corn in its season, and carried
it home as well as I could, and laid it up in the ear in my large
baskets till I had time to rub it out, for I had no floor to thrash
it on, or instrument to thrash it with.

And now indeed my stock of corn increasing, I really wanted to
build my barns bigger. I wanted a place to lay it up in, for the
increase of the corn now yielded me so much that I had of the
178 YEARNING AFTER SOCIETY.

barley about twenty bushels, and of the rice as much or more;
insomuch that now I resolved to begin to use it freely, for my
bread had been quite gone a great while. Also I resolved to see
what quantity would be sufficient for me a whole year, and to sow
but once a year.

Upon the whole, I found that the forty bushels of barley and
rice was much more than I could consume in a year, so I resolved
to sow just the same quantity every year that I sowed the last,
in hopes that such a quantity would fully provide me with
bread, &e.

All the while these things were doing you may be sure my
thoughts ran many times upon the prospect of land which I had
seen from the other side of the island; and I was not without
secret wishes that I were on shore there, fancying the seeing the
mainland, and in an inhabited country I might find some way or
other to convey myself further, and perhaps at last find some means
of escape.

But all this while I made no allowance for the dangers of such
a condition, and how I might fall into the hands of savages, and
perhaps such as I might have reason to think far worse than the
lions and tigers of Africa. That if I once came into their power,
T should run a hazard more than a thousand to one of being killed,
and perhaps of being eaten; for I had heard that the people of
the Caribbean coasts were cannibals, or man-eaters ; and I knew by
the latitude that I could not be far off from that shore: that
suppose they were not cannibals, yet that they might kill me, as
many Europeans who had fallen into their hands had been served,
even when they had been ten or twenty together, much more I
that was but one, and could make little or no defence: all these
things, I say, which I ought to have considered well of, and did
cast up in my thoughts afterwards, yet took up none of my appre-
hensions at first; but my head ran mightily upon the thought of
getting over to the shore.

Now I wished for my boy Xury and the long-boat with the
shoulder-of-mutton-sail, with which I had sailed above a thousand
miles on the coast of Africa; but this was in vain. Then I
thought I would go and look at our ship’s boat, which, as I have
A TERRIBLE FAILURE. 173

said, was blown up upon the shore a great way in the storm when
we were first cast away. She lay almost where she did at first,
but not quite; and was turned by the force of the waves and the
winds almost bottom upward against a high ridge of beachy rough
sand, but no water about her as before.

If I had had hands to have refitted her, and to have launched
her into the water, the boat would have done well enough, and I
might have gone back into the Brazils with her easily enough;
but I might have foreseen that I could no more turn her and set
her upright upon her bottom than I could remove the island.
However, I went to the woods and cut levers and rollers, and
brought them to the boat, resolved to try what I could do, sug-
gesting to myself that if I could but turn her down, I might easily
repair the damage she received, and she would be avery good boat,
and I might go to sea in her very easily.

I spared no pains indeed in this piece of fruitless toil, and spent,
I think, three or four weeks about it. At last, finding it impossible
to heave it up with my little strength, I fell to digging away the
sand to undermine it, and so to make it fall down, setting pieces of
wood to thrust and guide it right in the fall.

But when I had done this I was unable to stir it up again or to
get under it, much less to move it forward towards the water, so
I was forced to give it over; and yet, though I gave over the
hopes of the boat, my desire to venture over for the main increased
rather than decreased as the means for it seemed impossible.

This at length put me upon thinking whether it was not possible
to make myself a canoe, or periagua, such as the natives of those
climates make, even without tools, or, as I might say, without
hands—namely, of the trunk of a great tree. This I not only
thought possible but easy, and pleased myself extremely with the
thoughts of making it, and with my having much more convenience
for it than any of the negroes or Indians; but not at all considering
the particular inconveniences which I lay under more than the
Indians did—namely, want of hands to move it, when it was made,
into the water, a difficulty much harder for me to surmount than
all the consequences of want of tools could be to them. For what
was it to me, that when I had chosen a vast tree in the woods, I
120 CRUSOE’S FOLLY,

 

“1 WAS UNABLE TO STIR IT UP AGAIN, OR GET UNDER 17.”

might with much trouble cut it down, if after I might be able with
my tools to hew and dub the outside into the proper shape of a
boat, and burn or cut out the inside to make it hollow, so to make
a boat of it,—if, after all this, I must leave it just there where I
found it, and was not able to launch it into the water.

One would have thought I could not have had the least reflee-
tion upon my mind of my circumstance, while 1 was making this
boat, but I should have immediately thought how T should get it
into the sea. But my thoughts were so intent upon my voyage
over the sea in it, that I never once considered how I should get it
off of the land; and it was really in its own nature more easy for
me to guide it over forty-five miles of sea, than about forty-five
fathom of land, where it lay, to set it afloat in the water.

I went to work upon this boat the most like a fool that ever
man did who had any of his senses awake. I pleased myself with
the design, without determining whether I was ever able to under:
THE BOAT THAT WOULD NOT GO TO SEA. 18)

take it; not but that the difficulty of launching my boat came ofton
into my head, but I put a stop to my own inquiries into it, by
this foolish answer which I gave myself, “ Let’s first make it; Il
warrant I’ll find some way or other to get it along when ’tis done.”

This was a most preposterous method; but the eagerness of my
fancy prevailed, and to work I went. I felle
question much whether Solomon ever had such a one for the build-
ing of the Temple at Jerusalem! It was five feet ten inches
diameter at the lower part next the stump, and four feet eleven
inches diameter at the end of twenty-two feet, after which it
lessened for a while, and then parted into branches. It was not
without infinite labour that I felled this tree. I was twenty days
hacking and hewing at it at the bottom. I was fourteen more
vetting the branches and limbs and the vast spreading head of it
cut off, which I hacked and hewed through with axe and hatchet,
and inexpressible labour. After this it cost me a month to shape
it and dub it to a proportion, and to something like the bottom of
a boat, that it might swim upright as it ought to do. It cost me
near three months more to clear the inside, and work it so as to
make an exact boat of it. This I did indeed without fire, by mere
mallet and chisel, and by the dint of hard labour, till I had brought
it to be a very handsome periagua, and big enough to have carried
six-and-twenty men, and consequently big enough to have carried
me and all my cargo.

When I had gone through this work I was Saari delighted
‘ with it. he boat was really much bigger than I ever saw a canoe
or periagua, that was made of one tree, in my life. Many a weary
stroke it had cost, you may be sure, and there remained nothing
but to get it into the water; and had I gotten it into the water, I
make no question but I should have begun the maddest voyage,
and the most unlikely to be performed, that ever was undertaken.

But all my devices to get it into the water failed me, though
they cost me infinite labour too. It lay about one hundred yards
from the water, and not more; but the first inconvenience was, it
was up-hill towards the creek. Well, to take away this discourage-
ment, I resolved to dig into the surface of the earth, and so make
a declivity. This I began, and it cost me a prodigious deal of

               
182 AMBITION BAFFLES ITS OWN AIMS.

 

“ IT COST MK NEARLY THREE WEEKS MORE TO CLEAR THE INSIDE.”

pains ;-—but who grudge pains that have their deliverance in view ?
But when this was worked through, and this difficulty managed,
it was still much at one; for I could no more stir the canoe than J
could the other boat.

Then I measured the distance of ground, and resolved to cut a
dock or canal to bring the water up to the canoe, seeing I could
not bring the canoe down to the water. Well, I began this work,
and when I began to enter into it, and calculate how deep it was
to be dug, how broad, how the stuff to be thrown out, I found,
that by the number of hands I had, being none but my own, it
must have been ten or twelve years before I should have gone
through with it; for the shore lay high, so that at the upper end
it must have been at least twenty feet deep. So at length, though
with great reluctancy, I gave this attempt over also.

This grieved me heartily; and now I saw, though too late, the
folly of beginning a work before we count the cost, and before we
judge rightly of our own strength to go through with it.

In the middle of this work I finished my fourth year in this
place, and kept my anniversary with the same devotion, and with
AN ARGUMENT FOR CONTENTMENT. 188

as much comfort as ever before; for by a constant study and serious
application of the Word of God, and by the assistance of his grace,
I gained a different knowledge from what I had before. I enter-
tained different notions of things. I looked now upon the world
as a thing remote, which I had nothing to do with, no expectation
from, and indeed no desires about : in a word, I had nothing indeed
to do with it, nor was ever like to have. So I thought it looked
as we may perhaps look upon it hereafter—namely, as a place I
had lived in, but was come out of it; and well might I say, as
Father Abraham to Dives, “ Between me and thee is a great gulf
fixed.”

In the first place, I was removed from all the wickedness of the
world 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
was now capable of enjoying. I was lord of the whole manor; or,
if I pleased, I might call myself king or emperor over the whole
country which I had possession of. There were no rivals; I had
no competitor, none to dispute sovereignty or command with me.
I might have raised ship-loadings of corn, but I had no use for it ;
so I let as little grow as I thought enough for my occasion. I had
tortoise or turtles enough; but now and then one was as much as
I could put to any use. I had timber enough to have built a fleet
of ships. I had grapes enough to have made wine, or to have cured
into raisins, to have loaded that fleet when they had been built.

But all I conld make use of was all that was valuable. I had
enough to eat and to supply my wants, and what was all the rest
tome? If I killed more flesh than I could eat, the dog must eat
it, or the vermin. If I sowed more corn than I could eat, it must
be spoiled. The trees that I cut down were lying to rot on the
ground; I could make no more use of them than for fuel, and that
Thad no occasion for but to dress my food.

In a word, the nature and experience of things dictated to me,
upon just reflection, that all the good things of this world are no
further good to us than they are for our use; and that whatever
we may heap up indeed to give others, we enjoy just as much as
we can use, and no more. The most covetous griping miser in
the world would have been cured of the vice of covetousness if he
184 NO LOT SO ILL BOT IT MIGHT BE WORSE.

had been in my case, for I possessed infinitely more than I knew
what to do with. I had no room for desire, except it was of things
which I had not, and they were but trifles, though indeed of great
use tome. Thad, as I hinted before, a parcel of money, as well
gold as silver, about thirty-six pounds sterling. Alas! there the
nasty, sorry, useless stuff lay; I had no manner of business for it ;
and I often thought with myself that I would have given a handful
of it for a gross of tobacco pipes, or for a hand-mill to grind my
corm; nay, I would have given it all for sixpenny-worth of turnip
and carrot seed out of England, or for a handful of pease and beans
and a bottle of ink. As it was, I had not the least advantage by
it or benefit from it, but there it lay in a drawer, and grew mouldy
with the damp of the cave in the wet season; and if I had had the
drawer full of diamonds it had been the same case, and they had
been of no manner of value to me, because of no use.

I bad now brought my state of life to be much easier in itself
than it was at first, and much easier to my mind, as well as to my
body. I frequently sat down to my meat with thankfulness, and
admired the hand of God’s providence, which had thus spread my
table in the wilderness. I learned to look more upon the bright
side of my condition and less upon the dark side, and to consider
what I enjoyed rather than what I wanted; and this gave me
sometimes such seeret comforts that I cannot express them, and
which T take notice of here to put those discontented people in
mind of it who cannot enjoy comfortably what God has given them
because they see and covet something that he has not given them.
All our discontents about what we want appeared to me to spring
from the want of thankfulness for what we have.

Another reflection was of great use to me, and doubtless would
be so to any one that should fall into such distress as mine was,
und this was, to compare my present condition with what I at first
expected it should be, nay, with what it would certainly have been
if the good providence of God had not wonderfully ordered the ship
to be cast up nearer to the shore, where I not only could come at
her, but could bring what I got out of her to the shore, for my
relief and comfort; without which I had wanted for tools to work,
weapons for defence, or gunpowder and shot for getting my food.
A REFLECTION ON THE PAST. 186

{ spent whole hours, I may say whole days, in representing to
myself in the most lively colours how I must have acted if I had
got nothing out of the ship; how I could not have so much as got
any food except fish and turtles, and that as it was long before I
found any of them, I must have perished first: that I should have
lived, if I had not perished, like a mere savage; that if I had
killed a goat or a fowl by any contrivance, I had no way to flay or
open them, or part the flesh from the skin and the bowels, or to
cut it up, but must gnaw it with my teeth, and pull it with my
claws like a beast.

These reflections made me very sensible of the goodness of Pro-
vidence to me, and very thankful for my present condition, with all
its hardships and misfortunes. And this part also I cannot but re-
commend to the reflection of those who are apt in their misery to
say, “Is any affliction like mine?” Let them consider how much
worse the cases of some people are, and their case might have been
if Providence had thought fit.

T had another reflection which assisted me also to comfort my
mind with hopes, and this was, comparing my present condition
with what T had deserved, and had therefore reason to expect from
the hand of Providence. I had lived a dreadful life, perfectly des-
titute of the knowledge and fear of God. I had been well in-
structed by father and mother, neither had they been wanting to
me, in their early endeavours, to infuse a religious awe of God into
my mind, a sense of my duty, and of what the nature and end of
my being required of me. But, alas! falling early into the sea-
faring life, which of all the lives is the most destitute of the fear
of God, though his terrors are always before them; I say, falling
early into the seafaring life, and into seafaring company, all that
little sense of religion which I had entertained was laughed out of
me by my messmates, by a hardened despising of dangers and the
views of death, which grew habitual to me, by my long absence
from all manner of opportunities to converse with anything but
what was like myself, or to hear anything that was good, or tended
towards it.

So void was I of everything that was good, or of the least sense
of what I was, or was to be, that in the greatest deliverances T en-
186 THERE ARE MORE ROSES THAN THORNS.

joyed—such as my escape from Sallee, my being taken up by the
Portuguese master of the ship, my being planted so well in the
Brazils, my receiving the cargo from England, and the like—I
never had once the word “ Thank God” so much as on my mind,
or in my mouth; nor in the greatest distress had I so much as a
thought to pray to him, or so much as to say, ‘“‘ Lord, have mercy
upon me;” no, nor to mention the name of God, unless it was to
swear by and blaspheme it.

J had terrible reflections upon my mind for many months, as I
have already observed, on the account of my wicked and hardened
life past ; and when I looked about me, and considered what par-
ticular providences had attended me since my coming into this
place, and how God had dealt bountifully with me—had not only
punished me less than my iniquity had deserved, but had so plenti-
fully provided for me; this gave me great hopes that my repentance
was accepted, and that God had yet mercy in store for me.

With these reflections I worked my mind up not only to resig-
nation to the will of God in the present disposition of my circum-
stances, but even to a sincere thankfulness for my condition; and
that I, who was yet a living man, ought not to complain, seeing I
had not the due punishment of my sins; that I enjoyed so many
mercies which I had no reason to have expected in that place; that
I ought never more to repine at my condition, but to rejoice, and
to give daily thanks for that daily bread which nothing but a
crowd of wonders could have brought: that I ought to consider
Thad been fed even by miracle, even as great as that of feeding
Elijah by ravens; nay, by a long series of miracles: and that I
could hardly have named a place in the uninhabited part of the
world where I could have been cast more to my advantage—a place
where, as I had no society, which was my affliction on one hand, so
I found no ravenous beasts, no furious wolves or tigers, to threaten
my life, no venomous creatures or poisonous, which I might feed
on to my hurt, no savages to murder and devour me.

Jn a word, as my life was a life of sorrow one way, so it was a
life of mercy another; and I wanted nothing to make it a life of
comfort but to be able to make my sense of God’s goodness to me
and care over me in this condition be my daily consolation. And
CRUSOE’S REMARKABLE DAYS. 187

after 1 did make a just improvement of these things, 1 went away
and was no more sad.

I had now been here so long that many things which I brought
on shore for my help were either quite gone or very much wasted
and near spent.

My ink, as I observed, had been gone for some time, all but a
very little, which I eked out with water a little and a little till
it was so pale it scarce left any appearance of black upon the paper.
As long as it lasted I made use of it to minute down the days of
the month on which any remarkable thing happened to me, and
first by casting up times past. I remember that there was a
strange concurrence of days in the various providences which befel
me, and which, if I had been superstitiously inclined to observe
days as fatal or fortunate, I might have had reason to have looked
upon with a great deal of curiosity.

First, I had observed that the same day that I broke away from
my father and my friends, and ran away to Hull, in order to go
to sea, the same day afterwards I was taken by the Sallee man-of-
war, and made a slave.

The same day of the year that I escaped out of the wreck of
that ship in Yarmouth Roads, that same day-year afterwards I
made my escape from Sallee in the boat.

The same day of the year I was born on—namely, the 30th of
September—that same day I had my life so miraculously saved
twenty-six year after, when I was cast ashore on this island, so
that my wicked 1ife and my solitary life began both on a day.

The next thing to my ink’s being wasted was that of my bread
—I mean the biscuit which I brought out of the ship. This I had
husbanded to the last degree, allowing myself but one cake of
bread a day for above a year, and yet I was quite without bread
for near a year before I got any corn of my own; and great reason
I had to be thankful that I had any at all, the getting it being,
as has been already observed, next to miraculous.

My clothes began to decay too mightily. As to linen, I had
none a good while, except some checkered shirts which I found
in the chests of the other seamen, and which I carefully preserved,
because many times I could bear no other clothes on than a shirt:
138 CRUSOR’S LACK OF CLOTHES.

and it was a very great help to me that I had among all the men’s
clothes of the ship almost three dozen of shirts. There were also
several thick watch-coats of the seamen’s, which were left indeed,
but they were too hot to wear. And though it is true that the
weather was so violently hot that there was no need of clothes, yet
L could not go quite naked: no, though Thad been inclined to it,
which [ was not, nor could not abide the thoughts of it, though
T was all alone.

The reason why T could not go quite naked was, T could not
bear the heat of the sun so well when quite naked as with some
clothes on; nay, the very heat frequently blistered my skin, where-
as, with a shirt on, the air itself made some motion, and whistling
under that shirt, was twofold cooler than without it. No more
could T ever bring myself to go out in the heat of the sun without
acap ora hat, the heat of the sun beating with such violence as
it does in that place would give me the headache presently, by
darting so directly on my head without a cap or hat on, so that I
could not bear it, whereas, if T put on my hat, it would presently
go away,

Upon those views I began to consider about putting the few
rags L had, which I called clothes, into some order. L had worn
out all the waistcoats I had, and my business was now to try if I
could not make jackets out of the great watch-coats which I had
by me, and with such other materials as L had; so 1 set to work
a-tailoring, or rather indeed a-botching, for L made most piteous
work of it. However I made shift to make two or three new
waistcoats, which IL hoped would serve me a great while. As for
breeches or drawers, 1 made but a very sorry shift indeed till
afterward,

L have mentioned that I saved the skins of all the creatures
that I killed and | had hung them up
stretched out with sticks in the sun, by which means some of them
were so dry and hard that they were fit for little, but others it
seems were very useful. The first thing L made of these was a
great cap for my head, with the hair on the outside to shoot off
the rain; and this I performed so well, that after this I made me
a suit of clothes wholly of these skins—that is to say, a waistcoat,

 

1 mean four-footed ones

 
A WONDERFUL INVENTION, 189

and breeches open at knees, and both loose, for they were rather
wanting to keep me cool than to keep me warm, I must not
omit to acknowledge that they were wretchedly made; for if I was
a bad carpenter, I was a worse tailor. However, they were such
as I made very good shift with. And when 1 was abroad, if it
happened to rain, the hair of my waistcoat and cap being outer-
most, I was kept very dry.

After this I spent a great deal of time and pains to make me
an umbrella. I was indeed in great want of one, and had a
great mind to make one. I had seen them made in the Brazils,
where they are very useful in the great heats which are there,
and I felt the heats every jot as great here, and greater too, being
nearer the equinox. Besides, as [ was obliged to be much abroad,
it was a most useful thing to me, as well for the rains as the heats.
I took a world of pains at it, and was a great while before I could
make anything likely to hold; nay, after I thought I had hit the
way, I spoiled two or three before I made one to my mind, but
at last I made one that answered indifferently well. The main
difficulty I found was to make it let down. I could make it
spread, but if it did not let down too and draw in, it was not
portable for me any way but just over my head, which would not
do. However, at last, as I said, I made one to answer, and covered
it with skins, the hair upwards, so that it cast off the rains like
a pent-house, and kept off the sun so effectually that I could walk
out in the hottest of the weather with greater advantage than I
could before in the coolest; and when I had no need of it, could
close it and carry it under my arm.

Thus I lived mighty comfortably, my mind being entirely com-
posed by resigning to the will of God, and throwing myself wholly
upon the disposal of his providence. This made my life better
than sociable; for when I began to regret the want of conversa-
tion I would ask myself whether thus conversing mutually with
my own thoughts, and, as I hope I may say, with even God him-
self by ejaculations, was not better than the utmost enjoyment of
human society in the world?

{ cannot say that after this, for five years, any extraordinary
thing happened to ne, but I lived on in the same course, in the
190 CRUSOE’S SMALL BOAT.

same posture and place, just as before. The chief things I was
employed in, besides my yearly labour of planting my barley and
rice and curing my raisins, of both which I always kept up just
enough to have sufficient stock of one year’s provisions beforehand ;
I say, besides this yearly labour and my daily labour of going out
with my gun, I had one labour to make me a canoe, which at last
I finished; so that, by the digging a canal to it of six feet wide
and four feet deep, I brought it into the creek, almost half a mile.
As for the first, which was so vastly big, as I made it without
considering beforehand, as I ought to do, how I should be able
to launch it, so never being able to bring it to the water, or bring
the water to it, I was obliged to let it lie where it was, as a me-
morandum to teach me to be wiser next time. Indeed, the next
time, though I could not get a tree proper for it, and in a place
where I could not get the water to it, at any less distance than as
I have said, near half a mile; yet, as I saw that it was practicable
at last, I never gave it over; and though I was near two years
about it, yet I never grudged my labour, in hopes of having a buat
to go off to sea at last.

However, though my little periagua was finished, yet the size
of it was not at all answerable to the design which I had in view
when I made the first—I mean, of venturing over to the terra firma,
where it was above forty miles broad. Accordingly, the smallness
of my boat assisted to put an end to that design, and now I thought
no more of it. But as I had a boat, my next design was to make
a tour round the island; for as I had been on the other side in
one place, crossing, as I have already described it, over the land,
so the discoveries I made in that little journey made me very eager
to see other parts of the coast; and now I had a boat, I thought
of nothing but sailing round the island.

For this purpose, that I might do everything with discretion
and consideration, I fitted up a little mast to my boat, and made
a sail to it out of some of the pieces of the ship’s sail, which lay
in store, and of which I had a great stock by me.

Having fitted my mast and sail, and tried the boat, I found she
would sail very well. Then I made little lockers, or boxes, at
either end of my boat, to put provisions, necessaries, and ammuni-
HOW (T WAS VICTUALLED. 19)

tion, &c. into, to be kept dry either from rain or the spray of the
sea; and a little long hollow place I cut in the inside of the beat,
where I could lay my gun, making a flap to hang down over it to
keep it dry.

I fixed my umbrella also in a step at the stern, like a mast, to
stand over my head, and keep the heat of the sun off me like an
awning; and thus I every now and then took a voyage upon the

 

‘“! EVERY NOW AND THEN TOOK A VOYAGE UPON THE SEA.”

sea, but never went far out, not far from the little creek. But at

last, being eager to view the circumference of my little kingdom,

I resolved upon my tour, and accordingly I victualled my ship for

the voyage, putting in two dozen of my loaves (cakes I should

rather call them) of barley bread, an earthen pot full of parched
(234) 13
192 CRUSOE’S DISCOVERIES,

rice—a food I ate a great deal of—a little bottle of rum, half a
goat, and powder and shot for killing more, and two large watch-
coats of those which, as I mentioned before, I had saved out of
the seamen’s chests: these I took, one to lie upon, and the other
to cover me in the night.

It was the 6th of November, in the sixth year of my reign, or
my captivity, which you please, that I set out on this voyage, and
T found it much longer than I expected. For though the island
itself was not very large, yet, when I came to the east side of it,
I found a great ledge of rocks lie out above two leagues into the
sea, some above water, some under it; and beyond that a shoal of
sand, lying dry half a league more. So that I was obliged to go
a great way out to sea to double the point.

When first I discovered them I was going to give over my
enterprise and come back again, not knowing how far it might
oblige me to go out to sea; and above all, doubting how I should get
back again; so I came to an anchor—for Thad made me a kind of an
anchor with a piece of a broken grapling, which I got out of the ship.

Having secured my boat, I took my gun and went on shore,
climbing up upon a hill which seemed to overlook that point,
where I saw the full extent of it, and resolved to venture.

In my viewing the sea from that hill where I stood, I perceived
a strong, and indeed a most furious current, which ran to the east,
and even came close to the point. And I took the more notice of
it, because I saw there might be some danger that when I came
into it I might be carried out to sea by the strength of it, and not
be able to make the island again. And, indeed, had I-not gotten
first up upon this hill, I believe it would have been so; for there
was the same current on the other side of the island, only that it
set off at a further distance. And I saw there was a strong eddy
under the shore; so I had nothing to do but to get in out of the
first current, and I should presently be in an eddy.

I lay here, however, two days, because the wind blowing pretty
fresh at east-south-east, and that being just contrary to the said
current, made a great breach of the sea upon the point; so that
it was not safe for me to keep too close to the shore for the breach,
nor to go too far off because of the stream.
ADRIFT AT SEA, 193

The third day, in the morning, the wind having abated over-
night, the sea was calm, and I ventured. But I am a warning
piece again to all rash and ignorant pilots; for no sooner was I
come to the point, when even I was not my boat’s length from the
shore, but I found myself in a great depth of water, and a current
like the sluice of a mill. It carried my boat along with it with
such violence that all I could do could not keep her so much as
on the edge of it; but I found it hurried me further and further
out from the eddy, which was on my left hand. There was no
wind stirring to help me; and all 1 could do with my paddles
signified nothing. And now I began to give myself over for
lost; for as the current was on both sides the island, I knew
in a few leagues distance they must join again, and then I
was irrecoverably gone. Nor did I see any possibility of avoid-
ing it; so that I had no prospect before me but of perishing—
not by the sea, for that was calm enough, but of starving for
hunger. I had, indeed, found a tortoise on the shore as big almost
as I could lift, and had tossed it into the boat; and I had a great
jar of fresh water—that is to say, one of my earthen pots; but
what was all this to being driven into the vast ocean, where, to
be sure, there was no shore, no mainland or island for a thousand
leagues at least !

And now I saw how easy it was for the providence of God to
make the most miserable condition mankind could be in, worse.
Now I looked back upon my desolate solitary island as the most
pleasant place in the world, and all the happiness my heart could
wish for was to be but there again. I stretched out my hands to
it with eager wishes. “0 happy desert,” said I, ‘‘I shall never see
thee more! O miserable creature,” said I, “whither am I going!”
Then I reproached myself with my unthankful temper, and how I
had repined at my solitary condition; and now what would I give
to be on shore there again! Thus we never see the true state of
our condition, till it is illustrated to us by its contraries; nor
know how to value what we enjoy, but by the want of it. It is
scarce possible to imagine the consternation I was now in, being
driven from my beloved island (for so it appeared to me now to
be) into the wide ocean, almost two leagues, and in the utmost
194 IN MARI MAGNO.

despair of ever recovering it again. Towever, I worked hard, till
indeed my strength was almost exhausted, and kept my boat as
much to the northward—that is, towards the side of the current
which the eddy lay on

 

as possibly I could; when about noon, as
the sun passed the meridian, I thought I felt a little breeze of
wind in my face, springing up from the south-south-east. This
cheered my heart a little, and especially when in about half an
hour more it blew a pretty sinall gentle gale. By this time I
was gotten at a frightful distance from the island, and had the
least cloud or hazy weather intervened, I had been undone another
way too; for I had no compass on board, and should never have
known how to have steered towards the island, if I had but once
lost sight of it. But the weather continuing clear, I applied myself
to get up my mast again, and spread my sail, standing away to
the north as much as possible, to get out of the current.

Just as I had set my mast and sail, and the boat began to
stretch away, I saw even by the clearness of the water some
alteration of the current was near; for where the current was so
strong, the water was foul; but perceiving the water clear, I found
the current abate, and presently I found to the east, at about half
a mile, a breach of the sea upon some rocks. These rocks, I found,
caused the current to part again, and as the main stress of it ran
away more southerly, leaving the rocks to the north-east, so the
other returned by the repulse of the rocks, and made a strong
eddy, which ran back again to the north-west, with a very sharp
stream.

They who know what it is to have a reprieve brought to them
upon the ladder, or to be rescued from thieves just going to
murder them, or who have been in such like extremities, may
guess what my present surprise of joy was, and how gladly I put
my boat into the stream of this eddy, and, the wind also freshening,
how gladly I spread my sail to it, running cheerfully before the
wind, and with a strong tide or eddy under foot.

This eddy carried me about a league in my way back again
directly towards the island, but about two leagues more to the
northward than the current which carried me away at first; so
that when I came near the island, I found myself open to the
LAND AT LAST. 195

northern shore of it—that is to say, the other end of the island
opposite to that which I went out from.

When I had made something more than a league of way by the
help of this current or eddy, I found it was spent, and served me
no further. However, I found that being between the two great
currents, namely, that on the south side, which had hurried me
away, and that on the north, which lay about a league on the
other side: I say, between these two, in the wake of the island, I
found the water at least still and running no way; and haying still
a breeze of wind fair for me, I kept on steering directly for the
island, though not making such fresh way as I did before.

About four o’clock in the evening, being then within about a
league of the island, I found the point of the rocks which occa-
sioned this disaster stretching out, as is described before, to the
southward, and casting off the current more southwardly, had of
course made another eddy to the north; and this I found very
strong, but not directly setting the way my course lay, which was
due west, but almost full north. However, having a fresh gale, I
stretched across this eddy slanting north-west, and in about an
hour came within about a mile of the shore, where, it being
smooth water, I soon got to land.

When I was on shore, I fell on my knees and gave God thanks
for my deliverance, resolving to lay aside all thoughts of my
deliverance by my boat; and refreshing myself with such things
as I had, I brought my boat close to the shore in a little cove
that I had spied under some trees, and laid me down to sleep,
being quite spent with the labour and fatigue of the voyage.

I was now at a great loss which way to get home with my boat.
T had run so much hazard, and knew too much the case, to think
of attempting it by the way I went out; and what might be at
the other side (I mean the west side) I knew not, nor had I any mind
to run any more ventures; so I only resolved in the morning to
make my way westward along the shore, and to see if there was
no creek where I might lay up my frigate in safety, so as to have
her again if I wanted her. In about three miles, or thereabout,
coasting the shore, I came to a very good inlet or bay about a
mile over, which narrowed till it came to a very little rivulet or
196 RETURNING TO THE HUT.

 

“) BROUGHT MY BOAT CLOSE TO THK SHORE UN A LITTLE COVE.”

brook, where I found a yery convenient harbour for my boat, and
where she lay as if she had been in a little dock made on purpose
for her. Here I put in, and having stowed my boat very sate, I
went on shore to look about me and see where I was.

IT soon found IT had but a little passed by the place where T had
been before, when 1 travelled on foot to that shore; so taking
nothing out of my boat but my gun and my umbrella, for it was
exceedingly hot, 1 began my march. The way was comfortable
enough alter such a voyage as | had been upon, and I reached my
old bower in the evening, where I found everything standing as I
left it; for T always kept it in good order, being, as I said before,
my country house.

I got over the fence, and Jaid me down in the shade to rest my
limbs, for I was weary, and fell asleep. But judge you, if you
ean, that read my story, what a surprise I must be in, when I was
waked out of my sleep by a voice calling me by my name several
“VOX CLAMANTIS.” 1%

cimes, “ Robin, Robin, Robin Crusoe; poor Robin Crusoe! Where
are you, Robin Crusoe? Where are you? Where have you been?”

T was so dead asleep at first, being fatigued with rowing, or
paddling, as it is called, the first part of the day, and with walking
the latter part, that [ did not wake thoroughly; but dozing
between sleeping and waking, thought I dreamed that somebody
spoke to me. But as the voice continued to repeat, “ Robin
Crusoe, Robin Crusoe,” at last I began to wake more perfectly,
and was at first dreadfully frightened, and started up in the
utmost consternation. But no sooner were my eyes open, but I saw
my Poll sitting on the top of the hedge, and immediately knew
that it was he that spoke to me; for just in such bemoaning
language [ had used to talk to him, and teach him; and he had
learned it so perfectly, that he would sit upon my finger, and lay
his bill close to my face, and cry, “ Poor Robin Crusoe, where are
you? Where have you been? How came you here?” and such
things as [ had taught him.

However, even though I knew it was the parrot, and that indeed
it could be nobody else, it was a good while before I could com-
pose myself: first, I was amazed how the creature got thither, and
then how he should just keep about the place, and nowhere else.
But as [ was satisfied it could be nobody but honest Poll, I got it
over; and holding out my hand, and calling him by his name
Poll, the sociable creature came to me, and sat upon my thumb,
as he used to do, and continued talking to me, ‘Poor Robin
Crusoe,” and “ How did I come here?” and ‘‘ Where had T been?”
just as if he had been overjoyed to see me again; and so I carried
him home along with me.

I had now had enough of rambling to sea for some time, and
had enough to do for many days to sit still and reflect upon the
danger I had been in. I would have been very glad to have had my
boat again on my side of the island; but I knew not how it was
practicable to get it about. As to the east side of the island, which
I had gone round, I knew well enough there was no venturing
that way; my very heart would shrink, and my very blood run
chill but to think of it. And as to the other side of the island, I
did not know how it might be there; but supposing the current
198 PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT.

ran with the same force against the shore at the cast as it passed
by it on the other, I might run the same risk of being driven
down the stream, and carried by the island, as I had been before
of being carried away from it; so with these thoughts I contented
myself to be without any boat, though it had been the product of
so many months’ Jabour tu make it, and of so many more to get it
unto the sea.

In this government of my temper I remained near a year—lived
a very sedate, retired life, as you may well suppose; and my
thoughts being very much composed as to my condition, and fully
comforted in resigning myself to the dispositions of Providence, |
thought I lived really very happily in all things, except that of
society.

I improved myself in this time in all the mechanic exercises
which my necessities put me upon applying myself to, and I
believe could, upon occasion, make a very good carpenter,
especially considering how few tools I had.

Besides this, I arrived at an unexpected perfection in my
earthenware, and contrived well enough to make them with a
wheel, which I found infinitely easier and better; because I made
things round and shapeable, which before were filthy things indeed
to look upon. But I think I was never more vain of my own
performance, or more joyful for anything I found out, than for my
being able to make a tobacco-pipe. And though it was a very
ugly clumsy thing when it was done, and only burned red like
other earthenware, yet, as it was hard and firm, and would draw
the smoke, I was exceedingly comforted with it; for I had been
always used to smoke, and there were pipes in the ship, but IJ
forgot them at first, not knowing that there was tobacco in the
island; and afterwards, when I searched the ship again, I could
not come at any pipes at all.

In my wicker ware, also, I improved much, and made abundance
of necessary baskets, as well as my invention showed me. Though
not very handsome, yet they were such as were very handy and
eunvenient for my laying things up in, or fetching things home in.
For example, if I killed a goat abroad, I could hang it up ina
tree, flay it, and dress it, and cut it in pieces, and bring it home
A NEW WAY OF CATCHING GOATS. 199

jn a basket; and the like by a turtle,—I could cut it up, take out
the eggs, and a piece or two of the flesh, which was enough for
me, and bring them home in a basket, and leave the rest behind
me. Also large deep baskets were my receivers for my corn,
_which I always rubbed out as soon as it was dry, and cured, and
kept it in great baskets.

I began now to perceive my powder abated considerably, and
this was a want which it was impossible for me to supply, and I
began seriously to consider what I must do when I should have
no more powder; that is to say, how I should do to kill any goat.
I had, as is observed in the third year of my being here, kept a
young kid, and bred her up tame, and I was in hope of getting a
he-goat, but I could not by any means bring it to pass, till my kid
grew an old goat; and I could never find in my heart to kill her,
till she died at last of mere age.

But being now in the eleventh year of my residence, and, as I
have said, my ammunition growing low, I set myself to study some
art to trap and snare the goats, to sce whether I could not catch
some of them alive, and particularly I wanted a she-goat great with
young. -

To this purpose I made snares to hamper them, and I do
believe they were more than once taken in them; but my tackle
was not good, for I had no wire, and I always found them broken,
and my bait devoured.

At length I resolved to try a pit-fall. So I dug several large
pits in the earth, in places where I had observed the goats used to
feed; and over these pits I placed hurdles of my own making too,
with a greav weight upon them. And several times I put ears of
barley, and dry rice, without setting the trap; and I could easily
perceive that the goats had gone in and eaten up the corn, for I
could see the mark of their feet At length I set three traps in
one night ; and going the next morning, I found them all stand-
ing, and yet the bait eaten and gone. This was very discouraging.
However, I altered iny trap; and, not to trouble you with parti-
culars, going one morning to see my trap, I found in one of them
a large old he-goat; and in one of the other, three kids—a male
and two females.
200 CRUSOE AS A GOAT-EHERD,

As to the old one, T knew not what to de with him; he was 80
fierce I durst not go into the pit to him-—that is to say, to go about
to bring him away alive, which was what I wanted. I could have
killed him; but that was not my business, nor would it answer my
end. So I even let him out, and he ran away as if he had been |
frighted out of his wits. But T had forgot then what I learned
afterwards—that hunger will tame a lion. If I had let him stay
there three or four days without food, and then have carried him
some water to drink, and then a little corn, he would have been
as taine as one of the kids—for they are mighty sagacious, tractable
creatures where they are well used.

However, for the present I let him go, knowing no better at
that time. Then [I went to the three kids; and taking them one
by one, [ tied them with strings together, and with some difficulty
brought them all home.

It was a good while before they would feed; but throwing them
some sweet corn, it tempted them, and they began to be tame.
And now [ found that if T expected to supply myself with goat-
flesh when [ had no powder or shot left, breeding some up tame
was my only way; when, perhaps, [ might have them about my
house like a flock of sheep.

But then it presently occurred to me that I must keep the tame
from the wild, or else they would always run wild when they grew
up. And the only way for this was to have some enclosed piece
of ground, well fenced either with hedge or pale, to keep them in
so effectually, that those within might not break out, or those
without break in.

This was a great undertaking for one pair of hands. Yet, as I
saw there was an absolute necessity of doing it, my first piece of
work was to find out a proper piece of ground—namely, where
there was likely to be herbage for them to eat, water for them to
drink, and cover to keep them from the sun.

Those who understand such enclosures will think I had very
little contrivance when I pitched upon a place very proper for
all these, being a plain open piece of meadow-land or savanna (as
our people call it in the western colonies), which had two or three
little drills of fresh water in it, and at one end was very woody. I
HOW THE CRAFT PROSPERED. 201

say they will smile at my forecast, when I shall tell them I began
my enclosing of this piece of ground in such a manner that my
hedge or pale must have been at least two miles about! Nor was
the madness of it so great as to the compass, for if it was ten miles
about, I was like to have time enough to do it in. But I did not
consider that my goats would be as wild in so much compass as if
they had had the whole island, and I should have so much room to
chase them in that [ should never catch them.

My hedge was begun and carried on, I believe, about fifty yards,
when this thought occurred to me. So I presently stopped short,
and for the first beginning I resolved to enclose a piece of about
one hundred and fifty yards in length, and one hundred yards in
breadth ; which, as it would maintain as many as I should have in
any reasonable time, so, as my flock increased, I could add more
ground to my enclosure.

This was acting with some prudence, and I went to work with
courage. Iwas about three months hedging in the first piece; and
till I had done it, I tethered the three kids in the best part of it,
and used them to feed as near me as possible, to make them familiar ;
and very often I would go and carry them some ears of barley, or
a handful of rice, and feed them out of my hand; so that, after my
enclosure was finished and I let them loose, they would follow me
up and down, bleating after me for a handful of corn.

This answered my end. And in about a year and half I hada
flock of twelve goats—kids and all; and in two years more, I had
three-and-forty —besides several that I took and killed for my food.
And after that I enclosed five several pieces of ground to feed them
in, with little pens to drive them into, to take them as I wanted,
and gates out of one piece of ground into another.

But this was not all; for now I not only had goat’s-flesh to feed
on when I pleased, but milk too—a thing which, indeed, in my
beginning, I did not so much as think of, and which, when it came
into my thoughts, was really an agreeable surprise. For now I
set up my dairy, and had sometimes a gallon or two of milk ina
day. And as Nature, who gives supplies of food to every creature,
dictates even naturally how to make use of it; so I that had never
inilked a cow, much less a goat, or seen butter or cheese made,
202 AN ABSOLUTE MONARCH,

very readily and handily, though after a great many essays and
miscarriages, made me both butter and cheese at last, and never
wanted them afterwards.

How mercifully can our great Creator treat his creatures, even
in those conditions in which they seem to be overwhelmed in
destruction! How can he sweeten the bitterest providences, and
give us cause to praise him for dungeons and prisons! What a
table was here spread for me in a wilderness, where I saw nothing
at first but to perish for hunger !

It would have made a Stoic smile to have seen me and my little
family sit down to dinner. There was my Majesty, the prince and
lord of the whole island. I had the lives of all my subjects at my
absolute command—I could hang, draw, give liberty, and take it
away; and no rebels among all my subjects.

Then to see how like a king I dined, too, all alone, attended by
my servants. Poll, as if he had been my favourite, was the only
person permitted to talk to me. My dog—which was now grown
very old and crazy, and had found no species to multiply his kind
upon—sat always at my right hand; and two cats, one on one side
the table and one on the other, expecting now and then a bit from
my hand, as a mark of special favour.

But these were not the two cats which I brought on shore at
first—for they were both of them dead, and had been interred near
my habitation by my own hand; but one of them having multiplied
by I know not what kind of creature, these were two which I had
preserved tame, whereas the rest ran wild in the woods, and be-
came indeed troublesome to me at last—for they would often come
into my house, and plunder me too, till at last I was obliged to
shoot them, and did killa great many. At length they left me
with this attendance, and in this plentiful manner I lived. Neither
could I be said to want anything but society; and of that, in some
time after this, I was like to have too much.

I was something impatient, as I have observed, to have the use
of my boat—though very loath to run any more hazards; and
therefore sometimes I sat contriving ways to get her about the
island, and at other times I sat myself down contented enough
without her. But I had a strange uneasiness in my mind to go
DRAWN FROM NATURE. 203

down to the point of the island where, as I have said, in my last
ramble, I went up the hill to see how the shore lay and how the
current set, that I might see wnat I had to do. This inclination
mereased upon me every day, and at length I resolved to travel
thither by land, following the edge of the shore. I didso. But
had any one in England been to meet such a man as I was, it must
either have frighted them, or raised a great deal of laughter. And
as I frequently stood still to look at myself, I could not but smile
at the notion of my travelling through Yorkshire with such an
equipage and in such a dress. Be pleased to take a sketch of my
figure as follows.

I had a great high shapeless cap, made of a goat’s skin, with a
flap hanging down behind, as well to keep the sun from me as to
shoot the rain off from running into my neck—nothing being so
hurtful in these climates as the rain upon the flesh under the
clothes.

I had a short jacket of goat-skin, the skirts coming down to
about the middle of my thighs; and a pair of open-kneed breeches
of the same—the breeches were made of the skin of an old he-goat,
whose hair hung down such a length on either side, that like pata-
loons it reached to the middle of my legs; stockings and shoes I
had none, but had made me a pair of somethings, I scarce know
what to call them, like buskins, to flap over my legs and lace on
either side like spatterdashes, but of a most barbarous shape—as
indeed were all the rest of my clothes.

I had on a broad belt of goat-skin dried, which I drew together
with two thongs of the same, instead of buckles, and in a kind of
frog on either side of this. Instead of a sword and a dagger hung
a little saw and a hatchet, one on one side, one on the other. I
had another belt not so broad, and fastened in the same manner,
which hung over my shoulder; and at the end of it, under my left
arm, hung two pouches, both made of goat-skin too—in one of
which hung my powder, in the other my shot. At my back I
carried my basket; on my shoulder my gun; and over my head a
great clumsy, ugly goat-skin umbrella—but which, after all, was the
most necessary thing I had about me, next to my gun. As for my
face, the colour of it was really not so Mulatto-like as one might
a

204 A PAIR OF WHISKERS,

   

PLEASED
«A SKETCH

OF MY FIGURE AS

FOLLOWs.”

  

expect from aman
not at all careful
of it, and living
within nineteen
degrees of the
equinox. My
beard I had once suffered to grow till it was about a quarter of 4
yard long; but as I had both scissors and razors sufficient, I had
cut it pretty short, except what grew on my upper lip, which I
had trimmed into a large pair of Mohammedan whiskers, such as [
have seen worn by some Turks whom I saw at Sallee; for the
Moors did not wear such, though the Turks did. Of these
moustaches or whiskers I will not say they were long enough to
hang my hat upon them; but they were of a length and shape
Page
205
Missing
From
Original
EXPERIENTIA DOCET. 205

monstrous enough, and such as in England would have passed for
frightful.

But all this is by-the-by. Tor as to my figure, I had so few to
observe me, that it was of no manner of consequence; so I shall
say no more to that part. In this kind of figure I went my new
journey, and was out five or six days. I travelled first along the
sea-shore, directly to the place where I first brought my boat to an
anchor to get up upon the rocks; and having no boat now to take
care of, I went over the land a nearer way to the same height that
I was on before; when looking forward to the point of the rocks
which lay out, and which I was obliged to double with my boat, as is
said above, I was surprised to see the sea all smooth and quiet—no
rippling, no motion, no current any more there than in other places.

I was at a strange loss to understand this, and resolved to spend
some time in the observing of it, to see if nothing from the sets of
the tide had occasioned it; but I was presently convinced how it
was—namely, that the tide of ebb setting from the west, and
joining with this current of waters from some great river on the
shore, must be the occasion of the current; and that according as
the wind blew more forcibly from the west, or from the north,
this current came near, or went further from the shore. For
waiting thereabouts till evening, I went up to the rock again; and
then the tide of ebb being made, I plainly saw the current again as
before, only that it ran further off, being half a league from the
shore; whereas in my case it set close upon the shore, and
hurried me and my canoe along with it, which at another time it
would not have done.

This observation convinced me that I had nothing to do but to
observe the ebbing and the flowing of the tide, and I might very
easily bring my boat about the island again. But when I began
to think of putting it in practice, ] had such a terror upon my
spirits at the remembrance of the danger I had been in, that I
could not think of it again with any patience. But, on the con-
trary, I took up another resolution, which was more safe, though
more laborious; and this was, that I would build, or rather make
me another periagua or canoe, and so have one for one side of the
island, and one for the other.
Page
207
Missing
From
Original
 

208 A FEARFUL SURPRISE,

any other accident. But now I come to a new scene of my
life.
It happened one day about noon, going towards my boat, I was

 

a

 

“T sTOOD LIKE ONE THUNDERSTRUCK, OR ASIF I HAD SEEN AN APPARITIUN *

exceedingly surprised with the print of a man’s naked foot on the
shore, which was very plain to be seen in the sand. I stood like
one thunderstruck, or as if I had seen an apparition. I listened,

 

T looked round me; I could hear nothing, nor see anything. 1

1
i
i
THE FOOTPRINT IN THE SAND. 209

went up to a rising ground to look further. I went up the shore
and down the shore; but it was all one, I could see no other im-
pression but that one. I went to it again to see if there were any
more, and to observe if it might not be my fancy; but there was
no room for that, for there was exactly the very print of a foot,
toes, heel, and every part of a foot ;—how it came thither I knew
not, nor could in the least imagine. But after innumerable flutter-
ing thoughts, like a man perfectly confused and out of myself, I
came home to my fortification, not feeling, as we say, the ground
I went on, but terrified to the last degree, looking behind me at
every two or three steps, mistaking every bush and tree, and
fancying every stump at a distance to be a man. Nor is it pos-
sible to describe how many various shapes affrighted imagination
represented things to me in; how many wild ideas were found
every moment in my fancy, and what strange unaccountable
whimsies came into my thoughts by the way.

When I came to my castle, for so I think I called it ever after
this, I fled into it like one pursued. Whether I went over by the
ladder at first contrived, or went in at the hole in the rock which
I called a door, I cannot remember; no, nor could I remember the
next morning; for never frighted hare fled to cover, or fox to
earth, with more terror of mind than I to this retreat.

I slept none that night. The further I was from the occasion
of my fright the greater my apprehensions were, which is some-
thing contrary to the nature of such things, and especially to the
usual practice of all creatures in fear. But I was so embarrassed
with my own frightful ideas of the thing, that I formed nothing
but dismal imaginations to myself, even though I was now a great
way off it. Sometimes I fancied it must be the devil; and
reason joined in with me upon this supposition. For how should
any other thing in human shape come into the place? Where
was the vessel that brought them? What marks were there of
any other footsteps? And how was it possible a man should come
there? But, then, to think that Satan should take human shape
upon him in such a place, where there could be no manner of
occasion for it but to leave the print of his foot behind him, and
that even for no purpose, too, for he could not be sure 1 should
210 A MIND ILL AT EASE,

see it; this was an amusement the other way. I considered that
the devil might have found out abundance of other ways to have
terrified me than this of the single print of a foot ;—that, as I lived
quite on the other side of the island, he would never have been so
simple to leave a mark in a place where it was ten thousand to
one whether I should ever see it or not; and in the sand, too,
which the first surge of the sea upon a high wind would have
defaced entirely. All this seemed inconsistent with the thing
itself, and with all the notions we usually entertain of the subtilty
of the devil.

Abundance of such things as these assisted to argue me out of
all apprehensions of its being the devil. And I presently con-
cluded, then, that it must be some more dangerous creature—
namely, that it must be some of the savages of the mainland
over against me, who had wandered out to sea in their canoes,
and either driven by the currents, or by contrary winds, had made
the island; and had been on shore, but were gone away to sea,
being as loath, perhaps, to have stayed in this desolate island as I
would have been to have had them.

While these reflections were rolling upon my mind, I was very
thankful in my thoughts that I was so happy as not to be there-
abouts at that time, or that they did not see my boat, by which
they would have concluded that some inhabitants had been in the
place, and perhaps have searched further for me. Then terrible
thoughts racked my imagination about their having found my boat,
and that there were people here; and that if so, I should certainly
have them come again in greater numbers and devour me; that if
it should happen so that they should not find me, yet they would
find my enclosure, destroy ail my corn, carry away all my flock of
tame goats, and [ should perish at last for mere want.

Thus my fear banished all my religious hope; all that former
confidence in God, which was founded upon such wonderful ex-
perience as I had had of his goodness, now vanished, as if he
that had fed me by miracle hitherto could not preserve by his
power the provision which he had made for me by his goodness.
I reproached myself with my easiness, that would not sow any
more corn one year than would just serve me till the next season,
““ UNSTABLE AS WATER.” 21)

as if no accident could intervene to prevent my enjoying the crop
that was upon the ground; and this I thought so just a reproof,
that I resolved for the future to have two or three years’ corn
beforehand, so that whatever might come, I might not perish for
want of bread.

How strange a checker-work of providence is the life of man!
and by what secret differing springs are the affections hurried
about, as differing circumstances present! To-day we love what
to-morrow we hate; to-day we seek what to-morrow we shun;
to-day we desire what to-morrow we fear—nay, even tremble at
the apprehensions of. This was exemplified in me at this time in
the most lively manner imaginable: for I, whose only affliction
was that I seemed banished from human society, that I was alone,
circumscribed by the boundless ocean, cut of from mankind, and
condemned to what I called silent life—that I was as one whom
Heaven thought not worthy to be numbered among the living, or
to appear among the rest of his creatures; that to have seen one
of my own species would have seemed to me a raising me from
death to life, and the greatest blessing that Heaven itself, next to
the supreme blessing of salvation, could bestow;—I say, that I
should now tremble at the very apprehensions of seeing a man,
and was ready to sink into the ground at but the shadow or silent
appearance of a man’s having set his foot in the island.

Such is the uneven state of human life. And it afforded mea
great many curious speculations afterwards, when I had a little
recovered my first surprise. I considered that this was the station
of life the infinitely wise and good providence of God had deter-
mined for me; that as I could not foresee what the ends of divine
wisdom might be in all this, so I was not to dispute his sove-
reignty, who, as I was his creature, had an undoubted right by
creation to govern and dispose of me absolutely as he thought fit ;
and who, as I was a creature who had offended him, had likewise
a judicial right to condemn me to what punishment he thought fit ;
and that it was my part to submit to bear his indignation, because
I had sinned against him.

I then reflected that God, who was not only righteous but
omnipotent, as he had thought fit thus to punish and afflict me, se
B2 CRUSOE FINDS COMFORT ;

he was able to deliver me; that if he did not thiak fit to do it,
it was my unquestioned duty to resign myself absolutely and
entirely to his will; and, on the other hand, it was my duty also
to hope in him, pray to him, and quietly to attend the dictates and
directions of his daily providence.

These thoughts took me up many hours, days, nay, I may say,
weeks and months; and one particular effect of my cogitations on
this oceasion I cannot omit—namely, one morning early, lying in
my bed, and filled with thought about my danger from the appear-
ance of savages, I found it discomposed me very much; upon
which those words of the Scripture came into my thoughts, ‘“ Call
upon me in the day of trouble, and I will deliver, and thou shalt
glorify me.”

Upon this, rising cheerfully out of my bed, my heart was not
only comforted, but I was guided and encouraged to pray earnestly
to God for deliverance. When I had done praying I took up my
Bible, and opening it to read, the first words that presented to me
were, ‘“ Wait on the Lord, and be of good cheer, and he shall
strengthen thy heart; wait, | say, on the Lord.” It is impossible
to express the comfort this gave me. In answer, I thankfully
laid down the book, and was no more sad—at least, not on that
occasion.

Tn the middle of these cogitations, apprehensions, and reflections,
it came into my thought one day that all this might be a mere
chimera of my own; and that this foot might be the print of my
own foot when I came on shore from my boat. This cheered me
up a little, too, and I began to persuade myself it was all a de-
lusion ; that it was nothing else but my own foot; and why might
not I come that way from the boat as well as I was going that way
to the boat. Again, I considered also that I could by no means tell
for certain where I had trod and where I had not; and that if at
last this was only the print of my own foot, I had played the part
of those fools who strive to make stories of spectres and apparitions,
and then are frighted at them more than anybody.

Now I began to take courage, and to peep abroad again; for I
had not stirred out of my castle for three days and nights, so that
[ began to starve for provision: for I had little or nothing within
YET WAVERS AGAIN, 218

doors but some barley cakes and water. Then I knew that my
goats wanted to be milked, too, which usually was my evening
diversion; and the poor creatures were in great pain and incon-
venience for want of it: and, indeed, it almost spoiled some of
them, and almost dried up their milk.

Heartening myself therefore with the belief that this was nothing
but the print of one of my own feet, and so I might be truly said
to start at my own shadow, I began to go abroad again, and went
to my country house to milk my flock; but to see with what fear
T went forward, how often I looked behind me, how I was ready
every now and then to lay down my basket and run for my life, if
would have made any one have thought I was haunted with au
evil conscience, or that I had been lately most terribly frighted,
and so indeed I had.

However, as I went down thus two or three days, and having
seen nothing, I began to be a little bolder, and to think there was
really nothing in it but my own imagination. But I could not
persuade myself fully of this till I should go down to the shore
again and see this print of a foot, and measure it by my own, and
see if there was any similitude or fitness, that I might be assured
it was my own foot. But when I came to the place, First, It ap-
peared evidently to me that when I laid up my boat I could not
possibly be on shore anywhere thereabout. Secondly, When I came
to measure the mark with my own foot, I found my foot not so
large by a great deal. Both these things filled my head with new
lnaginations, and gave me the vapours again to the highest degree :
so that I shook with cold like one in an ague. And I went home
again, filled with the belief that some man or men had been on
shore there; or, in short, that the island was inhabited, and that I
might be surprised before I was aware—and what course to take
for my security I knew not.

Oh, what ridiculous resolution men take when possessed with
fear! It deprives them of the use of those means which reason
offers for their relief. The first thing I proposed to myself was to
throw down my enclosures, and turn all my tame cattle wild into
the woods, that the enemy might not find them, and then frequent
the island in prospect of the same or the like booty; then to the
214 HIS WANDERING THOUGHTS

simple thing of digging up my two corn-fields, that they might
not find such a grain there, and still be prompted to frequent the
island; then to demolish my bower and tent, that they might not
see any vestiges of habitation, and be prompted to look further, in
order to find out the persons inhabiting.

These were the subject of the first night’s cogitation, after I was
come home again, while the apprehensions which had so overrun
my mind were fresh upon me, and my head was full of vapours, as
above. Thus fear of danger is ten thousand times more terrifying
than danger itself, when apparent to the eyes; and we find the
burden of anxiety greater by much than the evil which we are
anxious about; and, which was worse than all this, I had not that
relief in this trouble from the resignation I used to practise that I
hoped to have. I looked, I thought, like Saul, who complained
not only that the Philistines were upon him, but that God had for-
saken him; for I did not now take due ways to compose my mind,
by crying to God in my distress, and resting upon his providence,
as I had done before, for my defence and deliverance; which if I
had done, I had at least been more cheerfully supported under this
new surprise, and perhaps carried through it with more resolution.

This confusion of my thoughts kept me waking all night; but
in the morning I fell asleep, and having by the amusement of my
mind been as it were tired, and my spirits exhausted, I slept very
soundly, and waked much better composed than I had ever been
before; and now I began to think sedately. And upon the utmost
debate with myself I concluded, That this island, which was so
exceeding pleasant, fruitful, and no further from the mainland than
as I had scen, was not so entirely abandoned as I might imagine.
That although there were no stated inhabitants who lived on the
spot, yet that there might sometimes come boats off from the
shore, who either with design, or perhaps never but when they
were driven by cross winds, might come to this place.

That I had lived here fifteen years now, and had not met with
the least shadow or figure of any people yet; and that if at any
time they should be driven here, it was probable they went away
again as soon as ever they could, seeing they had never thought
fit to fix there upon any occasion, to this time.
HE PREPARES FOR DEFENCE. 216

That the most I could suggest any danger from was, from any
such casual accidental landing of straggling people from the main,
who, as it was likely, if they were driven hither, were here against
their wills; so they made no stay here, but went off again with all
possible speed, seldom staying one night on shore, lest they should
not have the help of the tides and daylight back again; and that,
therefore, I had nothing to do but to consider of some safe retreat,
in case I should see any savages land upon the spot.

Now I began sorely to repent that I had dug my cave so large
as to bring a door through again; which door, as I said, came out
beyond where my fortification joined to the rock. Upon maturely
considering this, therefore, I resolved to draw me a second forti-
fication, in the same manner of a semicircle, at a distance from my
wall, just where I had planted a double row of trees about twelve
years before, of which I have made mention. These trees having
been planted so thick before, they wanted but a few piles to be
driven between them that they should be thicker and stronger, and
my wall would be soon finished.

So that I had now a double wall, and my outer wall was
thickened with pieces of timber, old cables, and everything I could
think of to make it strong; having in it seven little holes about as
big as I might put my arm out at. In the inside of this I
thickened my wall to above ten feet thick, with continual bring-
ing earth out of my cave and laying it at the foot of the wall and
walking upon it; and through the seven holes I contrived to plant
the muskets, of which I took notice that I got seven on shore out
of the ship; these, I say, I planted like my cannon, and fitted
them into frames that held them like a carriage, that so I could
fire all the seven guns in two minutes’ time. This wall I was
many a weary month in finishing, and yet never thought myself
safe till it was done.

When this was done I stuck all the ground without my wall, for
a great way every way, as full with stakes or sticks of the osier-
like wood, which I found so apt to grow, as they could well stand ;
insomuch ‘that I believe I might set in near twenty thousand of
them, leaving a pretty large space between them and my wall, thai
I might have room to see an enemy, and they might have no
216 FOREWARNED, FOREARMED.

 

 

“L PITTED THEM INTO FRAMES THAT HELD THEM LIKE A CARRIAGE,”

shelter from the young trees, if they attempted to approach my
outer wall.

Thus in two years’ time I had a thick grove, and in five or six
years’ time I had a wood before my dwelling, growing so monstrous
thick and strong, that it was indeed perfectly impassable; and no
men, of what kind soever, would ever imagine that there was any-
thing beyond it, much less a habitation. As for the way which I
proposed to myself to go in and out (for I left uo avenue), it was
INGENIOUS PRECAUTIONS, 217

by setting two ladders: one to a part of the rock which was low,
and then broke in, and left room to place another ladder upon
that. So, when the two ladders were taken down, no man living
could come down to me without mischieving himself; and if they
had come down, they were still on the outside of my outer wall.

Thus I took all the measures human prudence could suggest for
my own preservation ; and it will be seen at length that they were
not altogether without just reason, though I foresaw nothing at
that time more than my mere fear suggested to me.

While this was doing, I was not altogether careless of my other
affairs; for Thad a great concern upon me for my little herd of
goats. They were not only a present supply to me upon every occa-
sion, and began to be sufficient to me, without the expense of
powder and shot, but also without the fatigue of hunting after
the wild ones; and I was loath to lose the advantage of them,
and to have them all to nurse up over again.

To this purpose, after long consideration, I could think of but
two ways to preserve them: one was, to find another convenient
place to dig a cave under ground, and to drive them into it every
night; and the other was, to enclose two or three little bits of
land, remote from one another, and as much concealed as I could,
where I might keep about hali-a-dozen young goats in each place ;
so that, if any disaster happened to the flock in general, I might
be able to raise them again with little trouble and time. And
this, though it would require a great deal of time and labour, I
thought was the most rational design.

Accordingly I spent some time to find out the most retired
parts of the island; and I pitched upon one which was as private
indeed as my heart could wish for. It was a little damp piece of
ground in the middle of the hollow and thick woods where, as is
observed, I almost lost myself once before, endeavouring to come
back that way from the eastern part of the island. Here I found
a clear piece of land—near three acres—so surrounded with woods
that it was almost an enclosure by nature; at least, it did not want
near so much labour to make it so as the other pieces of ground I
had worked so hard at.

I immediately went to work with this piece of ground; and in
218 STRAYING FROM THE RIGHT PATH.

less than a month’s time I had so fenced it round that my flock o1
herd—call it which you please—which were not so wild now as at
first they might be supposed to be, were well enough secured in it.
So, without any further delay, I removed ten young she-goats and
two he-goats to this piece: and when they were there I continued
to perfect the fence till I had made it as secure as the other; which,
however, [ did at more leisure, and it took me up more time by a
great deal,

All this labour I was at the expense of purely from my appre-
hensions on the account of the print of a man’s foot which I had
seen; for as yet I never saw any human creature come near the
island, and T had now lived two years under these uneasinesses,
which indeed made my life much less comfortable than it was
before——as may well be imagined by any who know what it is to
live in the constant snare of the fear of man. And this I must
observe with grief, too, that the discomposure of my mind had too
great impressions also upon the religious part of my thoughts; for
the dread and terror of falling into the hands of savages and canni-
bals Jay so upon my spirits that I seldom found myself in a due
temper for application to my Maker—at least, not with the sedate
calmness and resignation of soul which I was wont to do. I rather
prayed to God as under great affliction and pressure of mind, sur-
rounded with danger, and in expectation every night of being
murdered and devoured before morning. And T must testify from
my experience that a temper of peace, thankfulness, love, and
affection, is much more the proper frame for prayer than that of
terror and discomposure ; and that, under the dread of mischief
impending, a man is no more fit for a comforting performance of
the duty of praying to God than he is for repentance on a sick-
bed: for these discomposures affect the mind as the others do the
body; and the discomposure of the mind must necessarily be as
great a disability as that of the body-—-and much greater, praying
to God being properly an act of the mind, not of the body.

But to go on. After I had thus secured one part of my little
living stock, I went about the whole island searching for another
private place to make such another deposit, when, wandering more
to the west point of the island than I had ever done yet, and looking
THE SCENE OF AN ORGIE. 219

out to sea, I thought I saw a boat upon the sea at a great distance.
T had found a prospective-glass or two in one of the seamen’s chests
which I saved out of our ship; but I had it not about me, and this
was so remote that I could not tell what to make of it, though I
looked at it till my eyes were not able to hold to look any longer.
Whether it was a boat or not I do not know; but as I descended
from the hill I could see no more of it; so I gave it over—only I re-
solved to go no more out without a prospective-glass in my pocket.

When I was come down the hill to the end of the island —
where, indeed, I had neve: been before—I was presently convinced
that the seeing the print of a man’s foot was not such a strange
thing in the island as I imagined. And but that it was a special
providence that I was cast upon the side of the island where the
savages never came, I should easily have known that nothing
was more frequent than for the canoes from the main, when they
happened to be a little too far out at sea, to shoot over to that side
of the island for harbour ; likewise, as they often met and fought
in their canoes, the victors having taken any prisoners would bring
them over to the shore, where, according to their dreadful customs,
being all cannibals, they would kill and eat them: of which hereafter.

When I was come down the hill to the shore, as I said above,
being the south-west point of the island, I was perfectly confounded
and amazed—nor is it possible for me to express the horror of my
mind—at seeing the shore spread with skulls, hands, feet, and
other bones of human bodies; and particularly I observed a place
where there had been a fire made, and a circle dug in the earth
like a cockpit, where it is supposed the savage wretches had sat
down to their inhuman feastings upon the bodies of their fellow-
creatures.

I was so astonished with the sight of these things that I enter-
tained no notion of any danger to myself from it for a long while.
All my apprehensions were buried in the thoughts of such a pitch
of inhuman, hellish brutality, and the horror of the degeneracy of
human nature; which though I had heard of often, yet I never
had so near a view of before. In short, I turned away my face
from the horrid spectacle: my stomach grew sick, and I was just
on the point of fainting, when nature discharged the disorder from
220 CRUSOE RECOVERS HIMSELF.

my stomach ; and having vomited with an uncommon violence, 1
was a little relieved, but could not bear to stay in the place a
moment. So I got me up the hill again with all the speed I could,
and walked on towards my own habitation.

When I came a little out of that part of the island, I stood still
a while as amazed; and then recovering myself, 1 looked up with
the utmost affection of my soul, and, with a flood of tears in my
eyes, gave God thanks that had cast my first lot in a part of the
world where I was distinguished from such dreadful creatures as
these; and that though I had esteemed my present condition very
miserable, had yet given me so many comforts in it that I had still
more to give thanks for than to complain of; and this above all,
that I had, even in this miserable condition, been comforted with
the knowledge of himself and the hope of his blessing—which was
a felicity more than sufficiently equivalent to all the misery which
I had suffered or could suffer.

In this frame of thankfulness I went home to my castle, and
began to be much easier now as to the safety of my circumstances
than ever 1 was before; for I observed that these wretches never
came to this island in search of what they could get—perhaps not
secking, not wanting, or not expecting anything here, and having
often, no doubt, been up in the covered woody part of it without
finding anything to their purpose. I knew I had been here now
almost eighteen years, and never saw the least footsteps of human
creature there before; and I might be here eighteen more, as
entirely concealed as I was now, if I did not discover myself to
them—which I had no manner of occasion to do, it being my only
business to keep myself entirely concealed where I was, unless I
found a better sort of creatures than cannibals to make myself
known to.

Yet I entertained such an abhorrence of the savage wretches
that I have been speaking of, and of the wretched inhuman custom
of their devouring and eating one another up, that I continued
pensive and sad, and kept close within my own circle for almost
two years after this. When I say my own circle, I mean by it my
three plantations—namely, my castle, my country seat, which T
called my bower, and my enclosure in the woods. Nor did I look
“MONARCH OF ALL HE SURVEYS.” 22)

after this for any other use than as an enclosure for my goats; for
the aversion which nature gave me to these hellish wretches was
such that I was fearful of seeing them as of seeing the devil him-
self. Nor did I so much as go to look after my boat in all this
time, but began rather to think of making me another ; for I could
not think of ever making any more attempts to bring the other
boat round the island to me, lest I should meet with some of these
creatures at sea, in which, if I had happened to have fallen into
their hands, I knew what would have been my lot.

Time, however, and the satisfaction I had that I was in no
danger of being discovered by these people, began to wear off my
uneasiness about them ; and I began to live just in the same com-
posed manner as before—only with this difference, that I used more
caution, and kept my eyes more about me than I did before, lest I
should happen to be seen by any of them: and, particularly, I
was more cautious of firing my gun, lest any of them being on the
island should happen to hear of it. And it was therefore a very
good providence to me that I had furnished myself with a tame
breed of goats, that I needed not hunt any more about the woods
or shoot at them; and if I did catch any of them after this, it was
by traps and snares, as I had done before: so that for two years
after this I believe I never fired my gun once off, though I never
went out without it. And, which was more, as I had saved three
pistols out of the ship, I always carried them out with me—or at
least two of them—sticking them in my goat-skin belt; also I fur-
bished up one of the great cutlasses that I had out of the ship, and
made me a belt to put it on also: so that I was now a most formi-
dable fellow to look at when I went abroad, if you add to the
former description of myself the particular of two pistols, and a
great broadsword hanging at my side in a belt, but without a
scabbard.

Things going on thus, as I have said, for some time, I seemed,
excepting these cautions, to be reduced to my former calm, sedate
way of living. All these things tended to showing me more and
more how far my condition was from being miserable, compared to
some others; nay, to many other particulars of life which it might
have pleased God to have made my lot. It put me upon reflect-
222 A BROODING FANCY.

ing how little repining there would be among mankind at any
condition of life, if people would rather compare their condition
with those that are worse, in order to be thankful, than be always
comparing them with those which are better, to assist their mur-
murings and complainings.

As in my present condition there were not really many things
which I wanted, so indeed I thought that the frights I had been in
about these savage wretches, and the concern I had been in for my
own preservation, had taken off the edge of my invention for my
own conveniences; and I had dropped a good design which I had
once bent my thoughts too much upon, and that was to try if I
could not make some of my barley into malt, and then try to brew
myself some beer. This was really a whimsical thought, and I
reproved myself often for the simplicity of it; for I presently saw
there would be the want of several things necessary to the making
my beer that it would be impossible for me to supply. As, first,
casks to preserve it in; which was a thing that, as I have observed
already, I could never compass—no, though I spent, not many
days, but weeks, nay months, in attempting it, but to no purpose.
In the next place, I had no hops to make it keep, no yeast to .
make it work, no copper or kettle to make it boil. And yet all
these things notwithstanding, I verily believe had not these things
intervened —I mean the frights and terrors I was ia about the
savages—I had undertaken it, and perhaps brought it to pass too ;
for I seldom gave anything over without accomplishing it, when I
once had it in my head-enough to begin it.

But my invention now ran quite another way; for night and
day I could think of nothing but how I might destroy some of
these monsters in their cruel, bloody entertainment, and, if possible,
save the victim they should bring hither to destroy. It would
take up a larger volume than this whole work is intended to be,
to set down all the contrivances I hatched, or rather brooded upon
in my thoughts, for destroying these creatures, or at least
frightening them, so as to prevent their coming hither any more.
But all was abortive: nothing could be possible to take effect
unless I was to be there to do it myself. And what could one
wan do among them when perhaps there might be twenty or
SEEKING A PLACE OF AMBUSH 228

thirty of them together, with their darts or their bows and
arrows, with which they could shoot as true to a mark as I could
with my gun ?

Sometimes I contrived to dig a hole under the place where they
made their fire, and put in five or six pound of gunpowder, which
when they kindled their fire would consequently take fire, and
blew up all that was near it. But as, in the first place, I should
be very loath to waste so much powder upon them, my store being
now within the quantity of one barrel, so neither could I be sure
of its going off at any certain time, when it might surprise them,
and at best that it would do little more than just blow the fire
about their ears and fright them, but not sufficient to make them
forsake the place: so I laid it aside, and then proposed that I
would place myself in ambush, in some convenient place, with my
three guns all double-loaded, and in the middle of their bloody
ceremony, let fly at them, when I should be sure to kill or wound
perhaps two or three at every shot; and then falling in upon them
with my three pistols and my sword, I made no doubt but that if
there were twenty I should kill them all. This fancy pleased my
thoughts for some weeks, and I was so full of it that I often
dreamed of it, and sometimes that I was just going to let fly at
them in my sleep.

I went so far with it in my imagination, that I employed my-
self several days to find out proper places to put myself in ambus-
cade, as I said, to watch for them; and I went frequently to the
place itself, which was now grown more familiar to me: and
especially while my mind was thus filled with thoughts of revenge,
and of a bloody putting twenty or thirty of them to the sword, as
I may call it; the horror I had at the place, and at the signals of
the barbarous wretches devouring one another, abated my malice.

Well, at length I found a place in the side of the hill, where I
was satisfied I might securely wait till I saw any of their boats
coming, and might then, even before they would be ready to come
on shore, convey myself unseen into thickets of trees, in one of
which there was a hollow large enough to conceal me entirely, and
where I might sit and observe all their bloody doings, and take

my full aim at their heads, when they were so close together as
(ong? 1A
224 ON THE WATCH DAILY.

that it would be next to impossible that [ should miss my shot, or
that | could fail wounding three or four of them at the first shot.

In this place, then, I resolved to fix my design, and accordingly
I prepared two muskets and my ordinary fowling-piece. The two
muskets [ loaded with a brace of slugs each, and four or five
smaller bullets, about the size of pistol bullets; and the fowling-
piece L loaded with near a handful of swan-shot, of the largest size;
| also loaded my pistols with about four bullets each, and in this
posture, well provided with ammunition for a second and third
charge, [ prepared myself for my expedition,

After [had thus laid the scheme of my design, and in my
imagination put it in practice, [ continually made my tour every
morning up to the top of the hill, which was from my castle, as I

called it, about three miles, or more, to see if T could observe any

 

“Yo SEB LF E COULD OHSERVE ANY BOATS UPON THE SEA,”

boats upon the sea, coming near the island, or standing over
towards it. But I began to tire of this hard duty, after I had for
two or three months constantly kept my watch, but come always
back without any discovery, there having not in all that time been
the least appearance, not only on or near the shore, but not on the
whole ocean, so far as my eyes or glasses could reach every way.
As long as I kept up my daily tour fo the hill to look out, so
long also I kept up the vigour of my design, and my spirits seemed
ARE SECOND THOUGHTS BEST ¢ 228

to be all the while in a suitable form for so outrageous an execu-
tion as the killing twenty or thirty naked savages, for an offence
which T had not at all entered into a discussion of in my thoughts,
any further than my passions were at first fired by the horror I
conceived at the unnatural custom of that people of the country,
who it seems had been suffered by Providence, in his wise disposi-
tion of the world, to have no other guide than that of their own
abominable and vitiated passions; and consequently were left, and
perhaps had been so for some ages, to act such horrid things, and
receive such dreadful customs, as nothing but nature entirely
abandoned of Heaven and acted by some hellish degeneracy, could
have run them into. But now, when, as I have said, I began to
be weary of the fruitless excursion which I had made so long, and
so far, every morning in vain, so my opinion of the action itself
began to alter, and [ began with cooler and calmer thoughts to
consider what it was I was going to engage in;— what autho-
rity or call [ had to pretend to be judge and executioner upon
these men as criminals, whom Heaven had thought fit for so many
ages tu sufler unpunished, to go on, and to be, as it were, the execu-
tioners of his judgments one upon another. How far were these
people offenders against me, and what right had I to engage in the
quarrel of that blood, which they shed promiscuously one upon
another? I debated this very often with myself thus: How do I
know what God himself judges in this particular case? It is certain
these people either do not commit this as a crime; it is not against
their own consciences reproving or their light reproaching them.
They do not know it to be an offence, and then commit it in
defiance of divine justice, as we do in almost all the sins we com-
mit. hey think it no more a crime to kill a captive taken in
war, than we do to kill an ox; nor to cat human flesh, than we do
to eat mutton.

When | had considered this a little, it followed necessarily that
I was certainly in the wrong in it; that these people were not
murderers in the sense that I had before condemned them in my
thoughts; any more than those Christians were murderers who
often put to death the prisoners taken in battle; or, more fre-
quently, upon many occasions put whole troops of men to tha
226 A WISE CONCLUSION,

sword, without giving quarter, though they threw down their arms
and submitted.

In the next place, it occurred to me that albeit the usage they
thus gave one another was thus brutish and inhuman, yet it was
really nothing to me; these people had done me no injury. That
if they attempted me, or I saw it necessary for my immediate pre-
servation to fall upon them, something might be said for it; but
that as I was yet out of their power, and they had really no
knowledge of me, and consequently no design upon me, therefore
it could not be just for me to fall upon them. That this would
justify the conduct of the Spaniards in all their barbarities prac-
tised in America, and where they destroyed millions of these
people, who, however they were idolaters, and barbarians, and had
several bloody and barbarous rites in their customs, such as sacri-
ficing human bodies to their idols, were yet, as to the Spaniards,
very innocent people; and that the rooting them out of the
country is spoken of with the utmost abhorrence and detestation,
by even the Spaniards themselves, at this time, and by all other
Christian nations of Hurope, as a mere butchery, a bloody and un-
natural piece of cruelty, unjustifiable either to God or man; and
such as for which the very name of a Spaniard is reckoned to be
frightful and terrible to all people of humanity, or of Christian
compassion—as if the kingdom of Spain were particularly eminent
for the production of a race of men who were without principles
of tenderness, or the common bowels of pity to the miserable,
which is reckoned to be a mark of generous temper in the mind.

These considerations really put me to a pause, and to a kind of a
full stop ; and I began by little and little to be off of my design,
and to conclude I had taken wrong measures in my resolutions to
attack the savages; that it was not my business to meddle with
them, unless they first attacked me, and this it was my business if
possible to prevent; but that, if I were discovered and attacked,
then I knew my duty.

_On the other hand, I argued with myself, that this really was
the way not to deliver myself, but entirely to ruin and destroy
myself; for unless I was sure to kill every one that not only
should be on shore at that time, but that should ever come on
CRUSOE UNDISTURBED. 222

shore afterwards, if but one of them escaped to tell their country-
people what had happened, they would come over again by thou
sands to revenge the death of their fellows, and I should only bring
upon myself a certain destruction, which at present I had no man-
ner of occasion for.

Upon the whole, 1 concluded, that neither in principles nor in
policy I ought one way or other to concern myself in this affair;—
that my business was by all possible means to conceal myself from
them, and not to leave the least signal to them to guess by that there
were any living creatures upon the island,—I mean of human shape.

Religion joined in with this prudential, and I was convinced
now many ways that I was perfectly out of my duty, when I was
laying all my bloody schemes for the destruction of innocent crea-
tures,—I mean innocent as to me. As to the crimes they were
guilty of towards one another, I had nothing to do with them ;
they were national, and I ought to leave them to the justice of
God, who is the Governor of nations, and knows how by national
punishments to make a just retribution for national offences, and
to bring public judgments upon those who offend in a public man-
ner, by such ways as best pleases him.

This appeared so clear to me now, that nothing was a greater
satisfaction to me than that I had not been suffered to do a
thing which I now saw so much reason to believe would have been
no less a sin than that of wilful murder, if I had committed it.
And I gave most humble thanks on my knees to God, that had
thus delivered me from blood-guiltiness; beseeching him to grant
me the protection of his providence, that I might not fall into the
hands of the barbarians; or that I might not lay my hands upon
them, unless I had a more clear call from Heaven to do it, in
defence of my own life.

In this disposition I continued for near a year after this, and so
far was I from desiring an occasion for falling upon these wretches,
that in all that time I never once went up the hill to see whether
there were any of them in sight, or to know whether any of them
had been on shore there or not, that I might not he tempted to
renew any of my contrivances against them, or be provoked by
any advantage which might present itself, to fall upon them; only
228 HIS FURTHER PRECAUTIONS,

this 1 did, I went and removed my boat, which I had on the othe.
side the island, and carried it down to the east end of the whole
island, where I ran it into a little cove which I found under some
high rocks, and where I knew, by reason of the currents, the
savages durst not, at least would not, come with their boats upon
any account whatsoever,

With my boat T carried away everything that I had left there
belonging to her, though not necessary for the bare going thither—
namely, a mast and sail which | had made for her, and a thing like
an anchor, but indeed which could not be called either anchor or
grapling —-however, it was the best I could inake of its kind. All
these I removed, that there might not be the least shadow of any
discovery, or any appearance of any boat or of any human habi-
tation upon the island.

Besides this, 1 kept myself, as 1 said, more retired than ever,
and seldom went from my cell, other than upon my constant
employment —namely, to milk my she-goats and manage muy little
flock in the wood ; which, as it was quite on the other part of the
island, was quite out of danger ; for certain it is, that those savage
people who sometimes haunted this island, never came with any
thoughts of finding anything here, and consequently never wan-
dered off from the coast. And I doubt not but they might have been
several times on shore after my apprehensions of them had made
me cautious as well as before; and, indeed, I looked back with
some horror upon the thoughts of what my condition would have
been, if I had chopped upon them, and been discovered before that,
when naked and unarmed, except with one gun, and that loaded
often only with small shot. I walked everywhere peeping and
peeping about the island to see what I could get ;—what a sur-
prise should I have been in, if, when I discovered the print of a
man’s foot, I had instead of that seen fifteen or twenty savages,
and found them pursuing me, and, by the swiftness of their run:
ning, no possibility of my escaping them |

The thoughts of this sometimes sank my very soul within me,
and distressed my mind so much that I could not soon recover it,
to think what I should have done, and how J not only should not
have been able to resist them, but even should not have had pre
SHOULD PRESENTIMENTS BE TRUSTED ? 229

sence of mind enough to do what ] might have done; much less
what now, after much consideration and preparation, | might be
able todo. Indeed, after serious thinking of these things, | should
be very melancholy, and sometimes it would last a great while;
but T resolved it at last all into thankfulness to that Providence
which had delivered me from so many unseen dangers, and had kept
me from those mischiefs which I could no way have been the agent
in delivering myself from, because 1 had not the least notion of any
such thing depending, or the least supposition of it being possible.

This renewed a contemplation which often had come to my
thoughts in former time, when first I began to see the merciful
dispositions of Heaven in the dangers we run through in this Hfe ;
How wonderfully we are delivered when we know nothing of it:
how, when we are in a quandary, as we call it, a doubt or hesita-
tion whether to go this way or that way, a secret hint shall direct
us this way when we intended to go that way; nay, when sense,
vur own inclination, and perhaps business, has called to go the
other way, yet a strange impression upon the mind, from we know
not what springs, and by we know not what power, shall overrule
us to go this way; and it shall afterwards appear that had we
gone that way which we should have gone, and even to our ima-
gination ought to have gone, we should have been ruined and lost.
Upon these and many like reflections, I afterwards made it a
certain rule with me, that whenever T found those secret hints or
pressings of my mind to doing or not doing anything that pre-
sented, or to going this way or that way, I never failed to obey
the secret dictate, though I knew no other reason for it than that
such a pressure or such a hint hung upon my mind. I could give
many examples of the success of this conduct in the course of my
life, but more especially in the latter part of my inhabiting this
unhappy island, besides many occasions which it is very likely I
might have taken notice of if I had seen with the same eyes then
that I saw with now. But it is never too late to be wise; and I
cannot but advise all considering men, whose lives are attended
with such extraordinary incidents as mine, or even though not so
extraordinary, not to slight such secret intimations of Providence.
Lct them cume from what invisible intelligence they will—that 1
230 SECURITY BEFORE COMFORT.

shall not discuss, and perhaps cannot account for—but certainly
they are a proof of the converse of spirits, and the secret communica-
tion between those embodied and those unembodied, and that such
a proof as can never be withstood. Of which I shall have occasion
to give some very remarkable instances in the remainder of my
solitary residence in this dismal place.

I believe the reader of this will not think strange if I confess
that these anxieties, these constant dangers I lived in, and the
concern that was now upon me, put an end to all invention and
to all the contrivances that I had laid for my future accom-
modations and conveniences. [ had the care of my safety more
now upon my hands than that of my food. I cared not to drive a
nail or chop a stick of wood now, for fear the noise I should make
should be heard; much less would I fire a gun, for the same
reason. And, above all, I was intolerably uneasy at making any
fire, lest the smoke, which is visible at a great distance in the day,
should betray me; and for this reason I removed that part of my
business which required fire, such as burning of pots and pipes,
&c., into my new apartment in the woods, where, after I had been
some time, I found to my unspeakable consolation a mere natural
cave in the earth, which went in a vast way, and where, I dare
say, no savage, had he been at the mouth of it, would be so hardy
as to venture in, nor indeed would any man else; but one like me
wanted nothing so much as a safe retreat.

The mouth of this hollow was at the bottom of a great rock,
where, by mere accident (I would say, if I did not see abundant
reason to ascribe all such things now to Providence), I was cutting
down some thick branches of trees to make charcoal. And before
I go on I must observe the reason of my making this charcoal,
which was thus :— _

I was afraid of making a smoke about my habitation, as I said
before ; and yet I could not live there without baking my bread,
cooking my meat, &c. So I contrived to burn some wood here,
as I had seen done in England, under turf, till it became chark,
or dry coal; and then putting the fire out, I preserved the coal
to carry home and perform the other services which fire was want-
ing for at home without danger of smoke.
A PANIC, AND ITS CAUSE. 23)

But this is by-the-by. While I was cutting down some wood
here, I perceived that behind a very thick branch of low brushwood
or underwood there was a kind of hollow place. I was curious to
look into it, and getting with difficulty into the mouth of it, I
found it was pretty large; that is to say, sufficient for me to stand
upright in it, and perhaps another with me. But I must confess
to you I made more haste out than I did in, when looking further
into the place, and which was perfectly dark, I saw two broad
shining eyes of some creature, whether devil or man I knew not,
which twinkled like two stars, the dim light from the cave’s mouth
shining directly in and making the reflection !

However, after some pause, I recovered myself, and began to
call myself a thousand fools, and tell myself that he that was afraid
to see the devil was not fit to live twenty years in an island all
alone; and that I durst to believe there was nothing in this
cave that was more frightful than myseif. Upon this, plucking
up my courage, I took upa great firebrand, and in I rushed again,
with the stick flaming in my hand. I had not gone three steps
in but I was almost as much frighted as I was before: for I heard
a very loud sigh, like that of a man in some pain; and it was fol-
lowed by a broken noise, as if of words half expressed, and then a
deep sigh again. I stepped back, and was indeed struck with such
a surprise that it put me into a cold sweat; andif I had had a hat
on my head, I will not answer for it that my hair might not have
lifted it off! But still, plucking up my spirits as well as I could,
and encouraging myself a little with considering that the power
and presence of God was everywhere, and was able to protect me,
upon this I stepped forward again, and by the light of the fire-
brand, holding it up a little over my head, I saw lying on the
ground a most monstrous frightful old he-goat, just making his
will, as we say, and gasping for life, and dying indeed of mere
old age.

I stirred him a little to see if I could get him out, and he essayed
to get up, but was not able to raise himself. And I thought with
myself he might even lie there; for if he had frighted me so, he
would certainly fright any of the savages, if any of them should be
so hardy as to come in there while he had any life in him.
232 CRUSOE’S HAPPY DISCOVERY.

 

“IN I RUSHED AGAIN, WITH THE STICK FLAMING IN MY HAND.”

I was now recovered from my surprise, and began to look round
me, when 1 found the cave was but very small; that is to say, it
might be about twelve feet over, but in no manner of shape, either
round or square, no hands having ever been employed in making
it but those of mere Nature. I observed also that there was a
place at the further side of it that went in further, but was so low
that it required me to creep upon my hands and knees to go into
it, and whither T went ] kuew not. So, having no candle, I gave
THE ‘“ ANTRE VAST.” 288

it over for sume time, but resolved to come again the next day,
provided with candles and a tinder-box, which I had made of the
lock of one of the muskets, with some wildfire in the pan.

Accordingly, the next day I came provided with six large candles
of my own making—for I made very good candles now of goat's
tallow—and going into this low place, I was obliged to creep upon
all-fours, as I have said, almost ten yards; which, by the way, I
thought was a venture bold enough, considering that I knew not
how far it might go, nor what was beyond it. When I was got
through the strait 1 found the roof rose higher up—lI believe near
twenty feet. But never was such a glorious sight seen in the
island, I dare say, as it was to look round the sides and roof of
this vault or cave. The walls reflected a hundred thousand lights
to me from my two candles. What it was in the rock, whether
diamonds or any other precious stones, or gold, which I rather
supposed it to be, I knew not. ;

The place I was in was a most delightful cavity or grotto of its
kind as could be expected, though perfectly dark. The floor was
dry and level, and had a sort of small loose gravel upon it, so
that there was no nauseous or venomous creature to be seen, neithet
was there any damp or wet on the sides or roof. The only diffi-
culty in it was the entrance, which, however, as it was a place of
security, and such a retreat as I wanted, I thought that was a
convenience; so that I was really rejoiced at the discovery, and
resolved without any delay to bring some of those things which
I was most anxious about to this place. Particularly, I resolved
to bring hither my magazine of powder and all my spare arms—
namely, two fowling-pieces, for I had three in all; and three
muskets, for of them I had eight in all. So I kept at my castle
only five, which stood ready mounted, like pieces of cannon, on
my outmost fence, and were ready also to take out upon any ex-
pedition.

Upon this occasion of removing my ammunition, I took occasion
to open the barrel of powder which I took up out of the sea, and
which had been wet; and I found that the water had penetrated
about three or four inches into the powder on every side, which,
caking and growing hard, had preserved the inside like a kernel
234 TWENTY-THREE YEARS OF SOLITUDE,

ina shell. So that I had near sixty pounds of very good powder
in the centre of the cask, and this was an agreeable discovery to
me at that time. So I carried all away thither, never keeping
above two or three pounds of powder with me in my castle for fear
of a surprise of any kind. T also carried thither all the lead I had
left, for bullets.

T fancied myself now like one of the ancient giants, which were
said to live in caves and holes in the rocks, where none could come
at them. For I persuaded myself, while I was here, if five hun-
dred savages were to hunt me, they could never find me out; or
if they did, they would not venture to attack me here.

The old goat, which I found expiring, died in the mouth of the
cave the next day after I made this discovery; and I found it
much easier to dig a great hole there, and throw him in and cover
him with earth, than to drag him out. So I interred him there
to prevent offence to my nose.

T was now in my twenty-third year of residence in this island,
and was so naturalized to the place and to the manner of living,
that could I have but enjoyed the certainty that no savages would
come to the place to disturb me, I could have been content to
have capitulated for spending the rest of my time there even to
the last moment, till T had laid me down and died, like the old
goat in the cave. I had also arrived to some little diversions and
amusements, Which made the time pass more pleasantly with me
a great deal than it did before. As first, I had taught my Poll,
as I noted before, to speak ; and he did it so familiarly, and talked
so articnlately and plain, that it was very pleasant to me: and he
lived with me no less than six-and-twenty years. How long he
might live afterwards IT know not; though I know they have a
notion in the Brazils that they live a hundred years. Perhaps
poor Poll may be alive there still, calling after poor Robin
Crusoe to this day. I wish no Englishman the ill-luck to come
there and hear him; but if he did, he would certainly believe it
was the devil. My dog was avery pleasant and loving companion
to me for no less than sixteen years of my time, and then died of
mere old age. As for my cats, they multiplied, as I have observed,
to that degree that I was obliged to shoot several of them at first,
AN ESTIMATE OF THEIR RESULTS. 286

to keep them from devouring me and all I had. But at length,
when the two old ones I had brought with me were gone, and after
some time continually driving them from me, and letting them
have no provision with me, they all ran wild into the woods except
two or three favourites, which I] kept tame, and whose young, when
they had any, I always drowned. And these were part of my
family. Besides these, I always kept two or three household kids
about me, which I taught to feed out of my hand. And I had two
more parrots which talked pretty well, and would all call Robin
Crusoe, but none like my first. Nor indeed did I take the pains
with any of them that I had done with him. TI had also several
tame sea-fowls, whose names I know not, which I caught upon the
shore and cut their wings. And the little stakes which I had
planted before my castle wall being now grown up to a good thick
grove, these fowls all lived among these low trees, and bred there;
which was very agreeable to me. So that, as I said above, I began
to be very well contented with the life I led, if it might but have
heen secured from the dread of the savages.

But it was otherwise directed. And it may not be amiss for
all people who shall meet with my story to make this just observa-
tion from it—namely, how frequently in the course of our lives
the evil which in itself we seek most to shun, and which, when
we are fallen into it, is the most dreadful to us, is oftentimes the
very means or door of our deliverance, by which alone we can be
raised again from the affliction we are fallen into. I could give
many examples of this in the course of my unaccountable life, but
in nothing was it more particularly remarkable than in the circum-
stances of my last years of solitary residence in this island.

It was now the month of December, as I said above, in my
twenty-third year; and this being the southern solstice, for winter
I cannot call it, was the particular time of my harvest, and required
my being pretty much abroad in the fields: when going out pretty
early in the morning, even before it was thorough daylight, I was sur-
prised with seeing the light of some fire upon the shore, at a distance
from me of about two miles, towards the end of the island where I
had observed some savages had been as before; but not on the other
side, but, to my great affliction, it was on my side of the island.
236 LANDING OF THE SAVAGES.

[ was indeed terribly surprised
at the sight, and stepped short
within my grove, not daring to
go out lest T might be surprise: ;
and yet [ had no more peace
within, from the apprehensions T[

    

had that if these savages, in ram-
\ bling over the island, should find my corn stand-
‘ing or cut, or any of my works or improve-
“ments, they would immediately conclude that
there were people in the place, and would then
never give over till they had found me out, In
this extremity L went back directly to my castle,
pulled up the ladder after me, and made all things
without look as wild and natural as [ could.
Then L prepared myself within, putting my-
self in a posture of defence. [ loaded all my
cannon, as [ called them—that is to say, my
muskets, which were mounted upon my new
fortification— and all my pistols, and resolved to
defend myself to the last gasp; not forgetting

 

 

seriously to commend myself to the divine pro-
tection, and earnestly to pray to God to deliver
ne me out of the hands of the barbarians. And
‘I in this posture [ continued about two hours, but

a began to be mighty impatient for intelligence
T WENT BACK DI-

neotny, anp rurten Abroad, for T had no spies to send out.
UP THK LADDER AFTER

ae After sitting a while longer, and musing what

 

I should do in this case, I was not able to bear
sitting in ignorance any longer; so setting up my ladder to
the side of the hill, where there was a flat place, as [T observed
before, and then pulling the ladder up after me, T set it up
again, and mounted to the top of the hill, and pulling out my
perspective-glass, which I had taken on purpose, [ laid me
down flat on my belly on the ground, and began to look for
the place. I presently found there was no less than nine
naked savages, sitting round a small fire they had made, not to
THEIR STRANGE OCCUPATIONS. 237

warm them, for they had no need of that, the weather being
extremely hot, but, as [ supposed, to dress some of their barbarous
diet of human flesh, which they had brought with them, whether
alive or dead T could not know.

They had two canoes with them, which they had hauled up
upon the shore; and as it was then tide of ebb, they seemed to me
to wait for the return of the flood to go away again. It is not easy
to imagine what confusion this sight put me into, especially seeing
them como on my side the island, and so near me too; but when I
observed their coming must be always with the current of the ebb,
I began afterwards to be more sedate in my mind, being satisfied
that L might go abroad with safety all the time of the tide of flood,
if they were not on shore before. And having made this observation,
{ went abroad about my harvest-work with the more composure.

As I expected, so it proved; for as soon as the tide made to the
westward, I saw them all take boat, and row, or paddle, as we call
it, allaway. [ should have observed that for an hour and more
before they went off they went to dancing, and I could easily dis-
cern their postures and gestures by my glasses. I could not per-
ceive, by my nicest observation, but that they were stark naked,
and had not the least covering upon them ; but whether they were
men or women, that L could not distinguish.

As soon as [ saw them shipped and gone, I took two guns upon
my shoulders, and two pistols at my girdle, and my great sword
by my side, without a scabbard, and with all the speed I was able
to make, L went away to the hill where I had discovered the first
appearance of all; and as soon as I got thither, which was not less
than two hours (for IT could not go apace, being so laden with arms
as I was), L perceived there had been three canoes more of savages
on that place; and looking out further, [ saw they were all at sea
together, making over for the main,

This was a dreadful sight to me, especially when, going down to
the shore, [ could sce the marks of horror which the dismal work
they had been about had left behind it—namely, the blood, the bones,
and part of the flesh of human bodies, eaten and devoured by those
wretches with merriment and sport. I was so filled with indigna-
tion at the sight, that I began now to premeditate the destruction
238 CRUSOE’S ALARM REVIVES.

of the next that I saw there, let them be who or how many se-
ever.

It seemed evident to me that the visits which they thus make to
this island are not very frequent; for it was above fifteen months
before any more of them came on shore there again ;—that is to
say, I neither saw them, nor any footsteps or signals of them, in
all that time; for as to the rainy seasons, then they are sure not
to come abroad, at least not so far. Yet all this while I lived un-
comfortably, by reason of the constant apprehensions I was in of
their coming upon me by surprise; from whence I observe that the
expectation of evil is more bitter than the suffering, especially if there
is no room to shake off that expectation or those apprehensions.

During all this time I was in the murdering humour, and took
up most of my hours, which should have been better employed,
in contriving how to circumvent and fall upon them the very next
time I should see them, especially if they should be divided, aa
they were the last time, into two parties. Nor did I consider at
all that if I killed one party—suppose ten or a dozen—I was still
the next day, or week, or month, to kill another, and so another,
even ad infinitum, till I should be at length no less a murderer
than they were in being man-eaters, and perhaps much more so.

          
   

 

SPENT my ‘days now in great perplexity and
\G) anxiety of mind, expecting that I should one
day or other fall into the hands of these merci-

    

 

with the greatest care and caution imaginable.
And now I found to my great comfort how
happy it was that I provided for a tame flock or herd of goats:
for I durst not upon any account fire my gun, especially near that
side of the island where they usually came, lest I should alarm the
THE SIGNAL GUN. 239

savages; and if they had fled from me now, I was sure to have
them come back again, with perhaps two or three hundred canoes
with them, in a few days, and then I knew what to expect.

However, I wore out a vear and three inonths more before I
ever saw any more of the savages, and then I found them again,
as I shall soon observe. It is true they might have been there
once or twice, but either they made no stay, or at least I did not
hear them; but in the month of May, as near as I could calculate,
and in my four-and-twentieth year, I had a very strange encounter
with them, of which in its place.

The perturbation of my mind during this fifteen or sixteen
months’ interval was very great. 7. slept unquiet, dreamed always
frightful dreams, and often started out of my sleep in the night.
In the day great troubles overwhelmed my mind, and in the night
I dreamed often of killing the savages, and of the reasons why I
might justify the doing of it. But to waive all this for a while, it
was in the middle of May, on the sixteenth day, I think, as well
as my poor wooden calendar would reckon; for I marked all upon
the post still. I say it was the sixteenth of May, that it blew a
very great storm of wind all day, with a great deal of lightning
and thunder, and a very foul night it was after it. I know not
what was the particular occasion of it; but as I was reading in the
Bible, and taken up with very serious thoughts about my present
condition, I was surprised with a noise of a gun, as I thought,
fired at sea.

This was, to be sure, a surprise of a quite different nature from
any I had met with before; for the notions this put into my
thoughts were quite of another kind. I started up in the greatest
haste imaginable, and in a trice clapped my ladder to the middle
place of the rock, and pulled it after me, and mounting it the second
time, got to the top of the hill, the very moment that a flash of
fire bade me listen for a second gun, which accordingly in about
half a minute I heard, and by the sound knew that it was from that
part of the sea where I was driven down the current in my boat.

I immediately considered that this must be some ship in distress,
and that they had some comrade or some other ship in company,

and fired these guns for signals of distress and to obtain help. I
\284) 16
240 LIGHTING THE BEACON,

had this pres-
ence of mind
at that minute
as to think
that though
T could not
help them, it
may be they
might — help
me; so I
brought — to-
together all
the dry wood
IT could get
at hand, and
making a
good — hand-
some pile, [
set it on fire

“TD PLIED MY FIRE ALL NIGHT LONG upon the hill.
TILL DAY BROKE.”

   

The wood was
{* dry and blazed freely, and though the wind blew
very hard, yet it burned fairly out, that I was cer-
tain if there was any such thing as a ship they must needs see
it; and no doubt they did, for as soon as ever my fire blazed up
I heard another gun, and after that several others, all from the
same quarter. I plied my fire all night long till day broke; and
when it was broad day, and the air cleared up, I saw something at
a great distance at sea, full east of the island, whether a sail or a
huil I could not distinguish, no, not with my glasses, the distance
Was so great, and the weather still something hazy also; at least,
it was so out at sea.

I looked frequently at it all that day, and soon perceived that
it did not move; so I presently concluded that it was a ship at an
anchor; and being eager, you may be sure, to be satistied, I took
my gun in my hand, and ran toward the south side of the island,
to the rocks where T had formerlv been carried away with the
CRUSOE’S CONJECTULES. 24)

current; and getting up there, the weather by this time being
perfectly clear, I could plainly see, to my great sorrow, the wreck
of a ship cast away in the night upon those concealed rocks which
[ found when [ was out in my boat; and which rocks, as they
checked the violence of the stream, and made a kind of counter-
stream or eddy, were the occasion of my recovering from the most
desperate hopeless condition that ever [ had been in in all my life.

Thus, what is one man’s safety is another man’s destruction ;
for it seems these men, whoever they were, being out of their
knowledge, and the rocks being wholly under water, had been
driven upon them in the night, the wind blowing hard at east and
east-north-east. Had they seen the island, as [ must necessarily
suppose they did not, they must, as [ thought, have endeavoured
to have saved themselves on shore by the help of their boat. But
their firing of guns for help, especially when they saw, as I
imagined, my fire, filled me with many thoughts. First, I
imagined that upon seeing my light they might have put them-
selves into their boat, and have endeavoured to make the shore; but
that the sea going very high, they might have been cast away.
Other times I imagined that they might have lost their boat
before, as might be the case many ways, as particularly by the
oreaking of the sea upon their ship, which many times obliges
men to stave or take in pieces their boat, and sometimes to throw
it overboard with their own hands. Other times I imagined they
had some other ship or ships in company, who, upon the signals of
distress they had made, had taken them up and carried them off.
Other whiles I fancied they were all gone off to sea in their boat,
and being hurried away by the current that I had been formerly
in, were carried out into the great ocean, where there was nothing
but misery and perishing, and that perhaps they might by this
time think of starving, and of being in a condition to eat one
another.

As all these were but conjectures at best, so in the condition I
was in I could do no more than look on upon the misery of the
poor men and pity them; which had still this good effect on my
side, that it gave me more and more cause to give thanks to God,
who had so happily and comfortably provided for me in my desolate
242 A CRAVING AFTER SOCIETY.

condition; and that of two ships’ companies who were now cast
away upon this part of the world, not one life should be spared
but mine. I learned here again to observe that it is very rare
that the providence of God casts us into any condition of life so
low, or any misery so great, but we may see something or other
to be thankful for, and may see others in worse circumstances than
our own.

Such certainly was the case of these men, of whom I could not
so much as see room to suppose any of them were saved. Nothing
could make it rational, so much as to wish or expect that they did
not all perish there, except the possibility only of their being taken
up by another ship in company ; and this was but mere possibility
indeed, for I saw not the least signal or appearance of any such thing.

I cannot explain by any possible energy of words what a strange
longing or hankering of desires I felt in my soul upon this sight,
breaking out sometimes thus: “ Oh that there had been but one or
two—nay, or but one soul saved out of this ship, to have escaped
to me; that 1 might but have had one companion, one fellow-
creature to have spoken to me, and to have conversed with.” In
all the time of my solitary life I never felt so earnest, so strong a
desire after the society of my fellow-creatures, or so deep a regret
at the want of it.

There are some secret moving springs in the affections, which.
when they are set agoing by some object in view, or be it some
object, though not in view, yet rendered present to the mind by
the power of imagination, that motion carries out the soul by its
impetuosity to such violent eager embracings of the object, that
the absence of it is unsupportable.

Such were these earnest wishings that but one man had been
saved! ‘Oh, that it had been but one!” I believe I repeated
the words, “Oh, that it had been but one!” a thousand times; and
the desires were so moved by it, that when I spoke the words my
hands would clinch together, and my fingers press the palms of my
hands, that if I had had any soft thing in my hand, it would have
crushed it involuntarily; and my teeth in my head would strike
together, and set against one another so strong. that for some time
T could not part them again.
THOUGHT LEADS TO ACTION. 248

Let the naturalists explain these things, and the reason and
manner of them. All I can say to them is, to describe the fact,
which was even surprising to me when I found it; though I knew
not from what it should proceed. It was doubtless the effect of
ardent wishes and of strong ideas formed in my mind, realizing the
comfort which the conversation of one of my fellow-Christians
would have been to me.

But it was not to be. Hither their fate or mine, or both, forbade
it; for until the last year of my being on this island, I never knew
whether any were saved out of that ship or no; and had only
the affliction, some days after, to see the corpse of a drowned boy
come on shore, at the end of the island which was next the ship-
wreck. He had on no clothes, but a seaman’s waistcoat, a pair of
open-kneed linen drawers, and a blue linen shirt; but nothing to
direct me so much as to guess what nation he was of. He had
nothing in his pocket but two pieces of eight and a tobacco pipe.
The last was to me of ten times more value than the first.

It was now calm, and I had a great mind to venture out in my
boat to this wreck; not doubting but J might find something on
board that might be useful to me. But that did not altogether
press me so much as the possibility that there might be yet some
living creature on board, whose life I might not only save, but
might, by saving that life, comfort my own to the last degree;
and this thought clung so to my heart that I could not be quiet,
night nor day, but I must venture out in my boat on board this
wreck ; and committing the rest to God’s providence, I thought the
impression was so strong upon my mind that it could not be re-
sisted, that it must come from some invisible direction, and that I
should be wanting to myself if I did not go.

Under the power of this impression, I hastened back to my
castle, prepared everything for my voyage, took a quantity of
bread, a great pot for fresh water, a compass to steer by, a bottle
of rum,—for I had still a great deal of that left,—a basket full of
raisins. And thus loading myself with everything necessary, I
went down to my boat, got the water out of her, and got her afloat,
loaded all my cargo in her, and then went home again for more.
My second cargo was a great bag full of rice, the umbrella to set
244 A VISIT TO THE WRECK.

up over my head for shade, another large pot full of fresh water,
and about two dozen of my small loaves, or barley cakes, more
than before, with a bottle of goat’s milk, and a cheese: all which,
with great labour and sweat, 1 brought to my boat; and praying
to God to direct my voyage, 1 put out, and rowing or paddling the
canoe along the shore, I came at last to the utmost point of the
island on that side—namely, north-east. And now I was to
launch out into the ocean, and either to venture, or not to venture.
I looked on the rapid currents which ran constantly on both sides
of the island, at a distance, and which were very terrible to me,
from the remembrance of the hazard I] had been in before, and my
heart began to fail me; for I foresaw that if Twas driven into
either of those currents, ] should be carried a vast way out to sea,
and perhaps out of my reach or sight of the island again; and that
then, as my boat was but small, if any little gale of wind should
vise, I should be inevitably lost.

These thoughts so oppressed my mind, that I began to give over
my enterprise, and having hauled my boat into a little creek on the
shore, I stepped out, and sat me down upon a little rising bit of
ground, very pensive and anxious, between fear and desire about
my voyage; when, as | was musing, 1 could perceive that the tide
was turned and the flood come on, upon which my going was for
so many hours impracticable. Upon this, presently it occurred to
me that I should go up to the highest piece of ground | could
find, and observe, if I could, how the sets of the tide or currents
lay when the flood came in, that I might judge whether, if I was
driven one way out, I might not expect to be driven another way
home, with the same rapidness of the currents. This thought was
no sooner in my head, but I cast my eye upon a little hill, which
sufficiently overlooked the sea both ways, and from whence I had
a clear view of the currents, or sets of the tide, and which way 1
was to guide myself in my return. Tere I found that as the cur-
rent of the ebb set out close by the south point of the island, so the
current of the flood set in close by the shore of the north side, and
that ] had nothing to do but to keep to the north of the island in
my return, and I should do well enough.

Encouraged with this observation, I resolved the next morning
THE ONLY LIVING 'THING, 245

to set out with tho first of the tide; and reposing myself for the
night in the canoe, under the great watch-cout | mentioned, T
launched out. J made first a little out to sea full north, till]
began to feel the benefit of the current, which set eastward, and
which carried me at a great rate, and yet did not so hurry me as
the southern side current had done before, and so as to take from
me all government of the boat; but having a strong steerage with
my paddle, | went at a great rate, directly for the wreek, and in
less than two hours [came up to it,

It was a dismal sight to look at. The ship, which by its build-
ing was Npanish, stuck fast, jammed in between two rocks; all the
stern and quarter of her was beaten to pieces with the sea ; and as
her foreeastle, which stuck in the rocks, had run on with great
violence, her mainmast and foremast were brought by the board.
that is to say, broken short off; but her boltsprit was sound, and
the head and bow appeared firm. When T came close to her, a
dog appeared upon her, which seoing me coming, yelped and cried ;
and as soon as T called him, jumped into the sea to come to me,
and 1 took him into the boat, but found him almost dead for
hunger and thirst. 1 gave him a cake of my bread, and he ate it
like w ravenous wolf that had been starving a fortnight in the
snow. I then gave the poor creature some fresh water, with
which, if I would have let him, he would have burst himself.

After this I went on board; but the first sight I met with was
two men drowned in the cook-room, or forecastle of the ship, with
their arms fast about one another, I concluded, as is indeed pro-
bable, that when the ship struck, it being in a storm, the sea broke
so high and so continually over her, that the men were not able to
bear it, and were strangled with the constant rushing in of the
water, as much as if they had been under water. Besides the dog,
there was nothing left in the ship that had life; nor any goods
that I could see, but what were spoiled by the water. There were
some casks of liquor—whether wine or brandy, I knew not—which
lay lower in the hold, and which, the water being ebbed out, I
could see ; but they were too big to meddle with. I saw several
chests, which I believed belonged to some of the seamen, and I got
two of them into the boat, without examining what was in them.
246 SPOILS FROM THE WRECK,

Had the stern of the ship been fixed and the fore part broken
off, Tam persuaded that T might have made a good voyage; for
by what T found in these two chests, I had room to suppose the
ship had a great deal of wealth on board; and if T may guess by
the course she steered, she must have been bound from the Buenos
Ayres or the Rio dela Plata, in the south part of America, beyond
the Brazils, to the Havannah, in the Gulf of Mexico, and so, per-
haps, to Spain. She had, no doubt, a great treasure in her, but of
no use at that time to anybody; and what became of the rest. of
her people I then knew not.

T found, besides these chests, a little cask full of liquor, of about
twenty gallons, which T got into my boat with much difficulty.
There were several muskets ina cabin, and a great powder-horn,
with about four pounds of powder in it. As for the muskets, I
had no occasion for them—so [ left them; but took the powder-
horn. I took a fire-shovel and tongs, which IT wanted extremely ;
ns also two little brass kettles, a copper pot to make chocolate, and
agridiron, And with this cargo and the dog I came away, the
tide beginning to make home again. And the same evening, about
an hour within night, I reached the island again, weary and
fatigued to the last degree.

I reposed that night in the boat, and in the morning T resolved
to harbour what T had gotten in my new cave, not to carry it home
to my castle. After refreshing myself, I got all ny cargo on shore,
and began to examine the particulars. The eask of liquor T found
to be a kind of ram, but not such as we had at the Brazils—and,
in a word, not at all good; but when I came to open the chests,
IT found several things of great use to me. For example, [ found
in one a fine case of bottles, of an extraordinary kind, and filled
with cordial waters, fine, and very good; the bottles held about
three pints each, and were tipped with silver: I found two pots
of very good succades, or sweetmeats, so fastened also on top that
the salt water had not hurt them; and two more of the same which
the water had spoiled: I found some very good shirts, which were
very welcome to me, and about a dozen and half of linen white
handkerchiefs, and coloured neckeloths—the former were also very
welcome, being exceeding refreshing to wipe my face in a hot dav:
MONEY BECOME AS DROSS. 247

besides this, when I came to the till in the chest, I found there
three great bags of pieces of eight, which held out about eleven
hundred pieces in all; and in one of them, wrapped up in a paper,
six doubloons of gold, and some small bars or wedges of gold; I
suppose they might all weigh near a pound.

The other chest I found had some clothes in it, but of little
value; but by the circumstances it must have belonged to the
gunner’s mate, though there was no powder in it but about two
pound of fine glazed powder in three small flasks, kept, I suppose,
for charging their fowling-pieces on occasion. Upon the whole, I
got very little by this voyage that was of any use to me: for as
to the money, I had no manner of occasion for it; it was to me as
the dirt under my feet; and I would have given it all for three or
four pair of English shoes and stockings, which were things I
greatly wanted, but had not had on my feet now for many years.
Thad, indeed, gotten two pair of shoes now, which I took off of the
feet of the two drowned men whom I saw in the wreck; and I found
two pair more in one of the chests, which were very welcome to
me; but they were not like our English shoes, either for ease or
service, being rather what we call pumps than shoes. I found in
this seaman’s chest about fifty pieces of eight in royals, but no
gold. Isuppose this belonged to a poorer man than the other,
which seemed to belong to some officer.

Well, however, I lugged this money home to my cave, and laid
it up, as Thad done that before which I brought from our own
ship ; but it was great pity, as I said, that the other part of this
ship had not come to my share—for I am satisfied I might have
loaded my canoe several times over with money, which, if I had
ever escaped to England, would have lain here safe enough till I
might have come again and fetched it.

Having now brought all my things on shore and secured them,
I went back to my boat, and rowed or paddled her along the shore
to her old harbour, where I laid her up, and made the best of my
way to my old habitation, where I found everything safe and quiet:
so I began to repose myself, live after my old fashion, and take
care of my family affairs; and for awhile I lived easy enough ;
only that I was more vigilant than I used to be, looked out oftener,
248 THE FLAW AT THE OUTSET,

and did not go abroad so much ; and if at any time I did stir with
any freedom, it was always to the east part of the island, where I
was pretty well satisfied the savages never came, and where I could
eo without so many precautions, and such a load of arms and am-
munition, as T always carried with me if T went the other way.

1 lived in this condition near two years more. But my unlucky
head, that was always to let me know it was born to make my body
miserable, was all these two years filled with projects and designs
how, if it were possible, ] might get away from this island: for
sometimes Twas for making another voyage to the wreck, though
my reason told me that there was nothing left there worth the
hazard of my voyage; sometimes for a ramble one way, sometimes
another; and 1 believe verily, if T had had the boat that IT went
from Sallee in, 1 should have ventured to sea, bound anywhere, 1
knew not whither,

T have been, in all my circumstances, a memento to those who
are touched with the general plague of mankind, whence, tor
ought T know, one-half of their miseries flow—I mean, that of not
being satisfied with the station wherein God and nature has placed
them. Tor, not to look back upon my primitive condition, and
the excellent advice of my father, the opposition to which was, as
T may call it, my ortyénal sim; my subsequent mistakes of the
same kind had been the means of my coming into this miserable
condition : for had that Providence which so happily had seated
me at the Brazils as a planter, blessed me with confined desires,
and IT could have been contented to have gone on gradually, 1
might have been by this time, I mean in the time of my being in
this island, one of the most considerable planters in the Brazils.
Nay, T am persuaded that, by the improvements IT had made in
that little time I lived there, and the increase I should probably
have made if 1 had stayed, I might have been worth a hundred
thousand moidores. And what business had I to leave a settled
fortune, a well-stocked plantation, improving and increasing, to
turn supercargo to Guinea to fetch negroes, when patience and
time would have so increased our stock at home that we could
have bought them at our own door from those whose business it
was to fetch them? And though it had cost us something more,
CRUSOE’S NIGHT THOUGH'S. 249

yet the difference of that price was by no means worth saving at
80 great a hazard,

But as this is ordinarily the fate of young heads, so reflection
upon the folly of it is as ordinarily the exercise of more years or
of the dear-bought experience of time. And so it was with me
now. And yet so deep had the mistake taken root in my temper
that I could not satisfy myself in my station, but was continually
poring upon the means and possibility of my escape from this
place. And that I may, with the greater pleasure to the reader,
bring on the remaining part of my story, it may not be improper
to give some account of my first conceptions on the subject of thie
foolish scheme for my escape, and how and upon what foundation
1 acted.

I am now to be supposed retired into my castle after my late
voyage to the wreck, iny frigate laid up and secured under water
as usual, and my condition restored to what it was before. I had
more wealth, indeed, than I had before, but was not at all the
richer ; for I had no more use for it than the Indians of Peru had
before the Spaniards came there,

It was one of the nights in the rainy season in March, the four-
and-twentieth year of my first setting foot in this island of solitari-
ness. J was lying in my bed or hammock awake, very well in
health ; had no pain, no distemper, no uneasiness of body; no, nor
any uneasiness of mind, more than ordinary : but could by no
means close my eves; that is, so as to sleep; no, not a wink all
night long: otherwise that as follows.

It. is as impossible as needless to set down the innumerable
crowd of thoughts that whirled through that great thoroughfare of
the brain, the memory, in this night’s time. I ran over the whole
history of my life in miniature, or by abridgment, as I may call
it, to my coming to this island, and also of the part of my life
since | came to this island. In my reflections upon the state of
my case since L came on shore on this island, 1 was comparing the
happy posture of my affairs in the first years of my habitation
here, compared to the life of anxicty, fear, and care which I had
lived ever since I had seen the print of a foot in the sand. Not
that 1 did not believe the savages had frequented the island even
260 INSTANCES OF PROVIDENTIAL CARE.

all the while, and might have been several hundreds of them at
times on shore there; but I had never known it, and was incapable
of any apprehensions about it. My satisfaction was perfect, though
my danger was the same ; and T was as happy in not knowing my
danger as if T had never really been exposed to it. This furnished
my thoughts with many very profitable reflections, and particularly
this one: How infinitely good that Providence is which has pro-
vided, in its government of mankind, such narrow bounds to his
sight and knowledge of things; and though he walks in the midst
of so many thousand dangers, the sight of which, if discovered to
him, would distract his mind and sink his spirits, he is kept serene
and calm by having the events of things hid from his eyes, and
knowing nothing of the dangers which surround him !

After these thoughts had for some time entertained me, T came
to reflect seriously upon the real danger [ had been in for so many
years in this very island, and how I had walked about in the
greatest. security and with all possible tranquillity, even when
perhaps nothing but a brow of a hill, a great tree, or the casual
approach of night, had been between me and the worst kind of
destruction; namely, that of falling into the hands of cannibals and
savages, Who would have seized on me with the same view as 1
did of a goat or a turtle, and have thought it no more a crime to
kill and devour me than I did of a pigeon or a curlew. I would
unjustly slander myself if I should say I was not sincerely thank-
ful to my great Preserver, to whose singular protection J acknow-
ledged, with great humility, that all these unknown deliverances
were due, and without which I must inevitably have fallen into
their merciless hands.

When these thoughts were over, my head was for some time
taken up in considering the nature of these wretched creatures, I
mean, the savages ; and how it came to pass in the world that the
wise Governor of all things should give up any of his creatures to
such inhumanity, nay, to something so much below even brutality
itself, as to devour its own kind. But as this ended in some, at
that time fruitless, speculations, it occurred to me to inquire what
part of the world these wretches lived in; how far off the coast
was from whence they came; what they ventured over so far from
AN ABSORRING IDEA. 251

home for; what kind of boats they had; and why I might not
order myself and my business so that I might be as able to go
over thither as they were to come to me.

I never so much as troubled myself to consider what I should
do with myself when I came thither, what would become of me it
I fell into the hands of the savages, or how I should escape from
them if they attempted me; no, nor so much as how it was possible
for me to reach the coast and not be attempted by some or other
of them without any possibility of delivering myself ; and if I
should not fall into their hands, what I should do for provisions, or
whither I should bend my course ;—none of these thoughts, I say,
so much as came in my way, but my mind was wholly bent upon
the notion of my passing over in my boat to the mainland. 1
looked back upon my present condition as the most miserable that
could possibly be: that I was not able to throw myself into any-
thing but death that could be called worse; that if I reached the
shore of the main I might perhaps meet with relief, or I might
const along, as I did on the shore of Africa, till I came to some
inhabited country, and where I might find some relief; and, after
all, perhaps [ might fall in with some Christian ship that might
take me in; and if the worst came to the worst I could but die,
which would put an end to all these miseries at once. Pray note,
all this was the fruit of a disturbed mind, an impatient temper,
made as it were desperate by the long continuance of my troubles,
and the disappointments I had met in the wreck I had been on
board of, and where I had been so near the obtaining what I so
earnestly longed for, namely, somebody to speak to, and to learn
some knowledge from of the place where I was, and of the probable
means of my deliverance: I say, I was agitated wholly by these
thoughts; all my calm of mind in my resignation to Providence,
and waiting the issue of the dispositions of Heaven, seemed to be
suspended ; and I had, as it were, no power to turn my thoughts
to anything but to the project of a voyage to the main, which
came upon me with such force and such an impetuosity of desire
that it was not to be resisted.

When this had agitated my thoughts for two hours or more
with such violence that it set my very blood into a ferment, and
252 AN EXTRAORDINARY DREAM,

my pulse beat as high as if I had been in a fever, merely with the
extraordinary fervour of my mind about it—nature, as if I had
been fatigued and exhausted with the very thought of it, threw
me into a sound sleep. One would have thought I should have
dreamed of it; but I did not, nor of anything relating to it. But
I dreamed that as I was going out in the morning as usual from
my castle, 1 saw upon the shore two canoes and eleven savages
coming to land, and that they brought with them another savage,
whom they were going to kill in order to eat him; when on a
sudden the savage that they were going to kill jumped away and
ran for his life. And I thought in my sleep that he came running
into my little thick grove before my fortification to hide himself;
and that I, seeing him alone, and not perceiving that the others
sought him that way, showed myself to him, and, smiling upon
him, encouraged him: that he kneeled down to me, seeming to
pray me to assist him ; upon which I showed my ladder, made him
go up, and carried him into my cave, and he became my servant :
and that, as soon as I had gotten this man, I said to myself; Now
I may certainly venture to the mainland, for this fellow will serve
me as a pilot, and will tell me what to do, and whither to go for
provisions, and whither not to go for fear of being devoured; what
places to venture into, and what to escape—I waked with this
thought, and was under such inexpressible impressions of joy at
the prospect of my escape in my dream, that the disappointments
which I felt upon coming to myself and finding it was no more
than a dream were equally extravagant the other way, and threw
me into a very great dejection of spirit.

Upon this, however, 1 made this conclusion, that my only way
to go about an attempt for an escape was, if possible, to get a
savage into my possession; and, if possible, it should be one of
their prisoners whom they had condemned to be eaten and should
bring thither to kill. But these thoughts still were attended with
this difficulty, that it was impossible to effect this without attack-
ing a whole caravan of them, and killing them all. And this was
not only a very desperate attempt and might miscarry, but, on the
other hand, I had greatly scrupled the lawfulness of it to me; and
my heart trembled at the thoughts of shedding so much blood,
ALWAYS ON THE WATCH. 253

though it was for my deliverance. I need not repeat the argu-
ments which occurred to me against this, they being the same
mentioned before. But though I had other reasons to offer now—
namely, that those men were enemies to my life, and would devour
me if they could; that it was self-preservation in the highest
degree to deliver myself from this death of a life, and was acting
in my own defence as much as if they were actually assaulting me,
and the ike ;—I say, though these things argued for it, yet the
thoughts of shedding human blood for my deliverance were very
terrible to me, and such as I could by no means reconcile myself
to a great while.

However, at last, after many secret disputes with myself, and
after great perplexities about it—for all these arguments one way
and another struggled in my head a long time—the eager, prevail-
ing desire of deliverance at length mastered all the rest, and I
resolved, if possible, to get one of those savages into my hands,
cost what it would. My next thing then was to contrive how to
do it; and this, indeed, was very difficult to resolve on. But as
I could pitch upon no probable means for it, so I resolved to put
myself upon the watch to see them when they came on shore, and
leave the rest to the event, taking such measures as the opportunity
should present, let be what would be.

With these resolutions in my thoughts, I set myself upon the
scout as often as possible ; and indeed so often till I was heartily
tired of it, for it was above a year and half that I waited, and
for great part of that time went out to the west end and to the
south-west corner of the island almost every day to see for canoes,
but none appeared. This was very discouraging, and began to
trouble me much; though I cannot say that it did in this case as
it had done some time before that—namely, wear off the edge of
my desire to the thing. But the longer it seemed to be delayed,
the more eager I was for it: in a word, I was not at first so care-
ful to shun the sight of these savages, and avoid being seen by
them, as I was now eager to be upon them.

Besides, I fancied myself able to manage one, nay, two or three
savages, if I had them, so as to make them entirely slaves to me,
to do whatever I should direct them, and to prevent their being
254 ANOTHER CANNIBAL ORGITE,

able at any time to do me any hurt. Tt was a great while that 1]
pleased myself with this affair; but nothing still presented. All
my fancies and schemes came to nothing, for no savages came near
me for a great while.

About a year and half after T had entertained these notions,
and by long musing had, as it were, resolved them all into nothing
for want of an occasion to put them in execution, T was surprised
one morning early with seeing no less than five canoes all on shore
together on my side the island, and the people who belonged to
them all landed and out of my sight! The number of them broke
all my measures ; for seeing so many, and knowing that they
always came four or six, or sometimes more, in a boat, [ could not
tell what to think of it, or how to take my measures to attack
twenty or thirty men single-handed: so T lay still in my castle,
perviexed and discomforted. However, I put myself into all the
same postures for an attack that T had formerly provided, and was
just ready for action if anything had presented. Having waited a
good while, listening to hear if they made any noise, at length,
being very impatient, I set my guns at the foot of my ladder, and
clambered up to the top of the hill by my two stages, as usual;
standing so, however, that my head did not appear above the hill,
so that they could not perceive me by any means, Here I observed,
by the help of my perspective-glass, that they were no less than
thirty in number, that they had a fire kindled, that they had had
meat dressed. How they had cooked it, that T knew not, or what
it was; but they were all dancing, in I know not how many bar-
barous gestures and figures, their own way round the fire,

While I was thus looking on them I perceived by my perspec-
tive two miserable wretches dragged from the boats, where it
seems they were laid by, and were now brought out for the
slaughter. I perceived one of them immediately fall, being
knocked down, I suppose, with a club or wooden sword,—for that
was their way,—and two or three others were at work immediately
cutting him open for their cookery, while the other victim was
left standing by himself till they should be ready for him. In
that very moment this poor wretch, seeing himself a little at
liberty. nature inspired him with hopes of life, and he started
A RACE FOR LIFR. 266

away from them, and ran with incredible swiftness alone the sands
directly towards me; T mean, towards that part of the coast where
my habitation was,

T was dreadfully frighted, that I must acknowledge, when I
perecived him to run my way; and especially when, as I thought,
T saw him pursued by the whole body; and now I expected that
part of my dream was coming to pass, and that he would certainly
take shelter in my grove; but T could not depend by any means
upon my dream for the rest of it—namely, that the other savages
would not pursue him thither and find him there. However, I
kept my station, and my spirits began to recover when I found
that, there were not above three men that followed him; and still
more was I encouraged, when I found that he outstripped them
exceedingly in running, and gained ground of them, so that if he
could but hold it for half an hour, I saw easily he would fairly get
away from them all.

There was between them and my castle the creek, which I men-
tioned often at the first part of my story, when I landed my car-
goes out of the ship; and this I saw plainly he must necessarily
swim over, or the poor wretch would be taken there. But when
the savage escaping came thither, he made nothing of it, though
the tide was then up, but plunging in, swam through in about
thirty strokes or thereabouts, landed and ran on with exceeding
strength and swiftrss. When the three persons came to the creek,
I found that two of them could swim, but the third could not, and
that standing on the other side, he looked at the other, but went
no further ; and soon after went softly back, which, as it happened,
was very well for him in the main.

I observed that the two who swam were yet more than twice as
long swimming over the creck as the fellow was that fled from
them. It came now very warmly upon my thoughts, and indeed
irresistibly, that now was my time to get me a servant, and per-
haps a companion or assistant; and that I was called plainly by
Providence to save this poor creature’s life. I immediately ran
down the ladders with all possible expedition, fetches my two
guns, for they were both but at the foot of the ladders, as I

observed above; and getting up again with the same haste to the
(zea) 17
266 ESCAPE OF THE PRISONER.

top of the hill, I crossed toward the sea; and having a very short
cut and all down hill, clapped myself in the way between the pur-
suers and the pursued; hallooing aloud to him that fled, who,
looking back, was at first perhaps as much frighted at me as
at them: but I beckoned with my hand to him to come back;
and in the meantime I slowly advanced towards the two that fol-
lowed ; then rushing at once upon the foremost, I knocked him
down with the stock of my piece. I was loath to fire, because I
would not have the rest hear; though at that distance it would
not have been easily heard, and being out of sight of the smoke
too, they would not have easily known what to make of it. Hav-
ing knocked this fellow down, the other who pursued with him
stopped, as if he had been frighted, and I advanced apace towards
him; but as I came nearer, I perceived presently he had a bow
and arrow, and was fitting it to shoot at me; so I was then neces-
sitated to shoot at him first, which I did and killed him at the first
shot. The poor savage who fled, but had stopped, though he saw
both his enemies fallen, and killed, as he thought, yet was so
frighted with the fire and noise of my piece, that he stood stock-
still, and neither came forward nor went backward, though he
seemed rather inclined to fly still than to come on. I hallooed
again to him, and made signs to come forward, which he easily
understood, and came a little way, then stopped again, and then a
little further, and stopped again, and I could then perceive-that he
stood trembling, as if he had been taken prisoner, and had just
been to be killed, as his two enemies were. I beckoned him again
to come to me, and gave him all the signs of encouragement that I
could think of, and he came nearer and nearer, kneeling down
every ten or twelve steps in token of acknowledgment for my sav-
ing his life. I smiled at him, and looked pleasantly, and beckoned
to him to come still nearer. At length he came close to me, and
then he kneeled down again, kissed the ground, and Jaid his head
upon the ground, and taking me by the foot, set my foot upon his
head: this, it seems, was in token of swearing to be my slave for
ever. I took him up and made much of him, and encouraged him
all I could. ‘ut there was more work to do yet; for I perceived
the savage whom | knocked down was not killed, but stunned,
HIS RECEPTION RY CRUSOR. 257

 

 

 

 

Hs CAMK CLOSE TO ME AND KNEELED DOWN.”

with the blow, and began to come to himself; so I pointed to him,
and showing him the savage, that he was not dead. Upon this he
spoke some words to me, and though I could not understand them
yet I thought they were pleasant to hear, for they were the first
sound of a man’s voice that I had heard, my own excepted, for
above twenty-tive years. But there was no time for such reflec-
tions now. ‘The savage who was knocked down recovered himself
258 GETTING RID OF ONE'S ENEMIES.

so far as to sit up upon the ground, and I perceived that my
savage began to be afraid; but when I saw that, I presented my
other piece at the man, as if I would shoot him. Upon this my
savage, for so I call him now, made a motion to me to lend him
my sword, which hung naked in a belt by my side; so I did. He
no sooner had it, but he runs to his enemy, and at one blow cut
off his head as cleverly, no executioner in Germany could have
done it sooner or better; which I thought very strange for one
who I had reason to believe never saw a sword in his life before,
except their own wooden swords. However, it seems, as I learned
afterwards, they make their wooden swords so sharp, so heavy,
and the wood is so hard, that they will cut off heads even with
them, ay, and arms, and that at one blow too. When he had
done this, he comes laughing to me in sign of triumph, and brought
me the sword again, and with abundance of gestures, which I did
not understand, laid it down with the head of the savage that he
had killed just before me.

But that which astonished him most, was to know how I had
killed the other Indian so far off. So pointing to him, he mada
signs to me to let him go to him; so I bade him go as well as J
could. When he came to him he stood like one amazed, looking
at him, turned him first on one side, then on the other, looked at
the wound the bullet had made, which it seems was just in his
breast, where it had made a hole, and no great quantity of blood
had followed; but he had bled inwardly, for he was quite dead.
Ife took up his bow and arrows and came back, so I turned to go
away, and beckoned to him to follow me, making signs to him
that more might come after them.

Upon this he signed to me that he should bury them with sand,
that they might not be seen by the rest if they followed; and so
I made signs again to him to do so. He fell to work, and in an
instant he had scraped a hole in the sand with his hands, big
enough to bury the first in, and then dragged him into it, and
covered him, and did so also by the other. I believe he had
buried them both in a quarter of an hour. Then calling him away,
I carried him, not to my castle, but quite away to my cave, on the
further part of the island. So I did not let my dream come to
THE STRANGER DESCRIBED. 269

pass in that part; namely, that he came into my grove for
shelter.

Here I gave him bread and a bunch of raisins to eat, and a
draught of water, which I found he was indeed in great distress
for by his running. And having refreshed him, I made signs for
him to go lie down and sleep, pointing to a place where I had laid
a great parcel of rice straw, and a blanket upon it, which I used to
sleep upon myself sometimes; so the poor creature lay down and
went to sleep.

He was a comely, handsome fellow, perfectly well made, with
straight strong limbs, not too large, tall and well shaped, and as I
reckon, about twenty-six years of age. He had a very good coun-
tenance, not a fierce and surly aspect; but seemed to have some-
thing very manly in his face; and yet he had all the sweetness and
softness of an Kuropean in his countenance too, especially when he
smiled. His hair was long and black, not curled like wool; his
forehead very high and large, and a great vivacity and sparkling
sharpness in his eyes. The colour of his skin was not quite black,
but very tawny; and yet not of an ugly yellow nauseous tawny, as
the Brazilians and Virginians, and other natives of America are;
but of a bright kind of a dun olive colour, that had in it some-
thing very agreeable, though not very easy to describe. His face
was round and plump; his nose small, not flat like the negroes; a
very good mouth, thin lips, and his fine teeth well set, and white
as ivory. After he had slumbered, rather than slept, about half
an hour, he waked again, and comes out of the cave to me, for I
had been milking my goats, which I had in the enclosure just by.
When he espied me, he came running to me, laying himself down
again upon the ground, with all the possible signs of an humble
thankful disposition, making a many antic gestures to show it.
At last he lays his head flat upon the ground, close to my foot,
and sets my other foot upon his head, as he had done before; and
after this made all the signs to me of subjection, servitude, and
submission imaginable, to let me know how he would serve me as
long as he lived. I understood him in many things, and let him
know I was very well pleased with him. In a little time I began
to speak to him, and teach him to speak to me. And first,
260 HE RECEIVES A NAME,

IL made him know his name should be Friday, which was the
day I saved his life. I called him so for the memory of the time.
I likewise taught him to say Master, and then let him know that
was to be my name. I likewise taught him to say Yes and No,
and to know the meaning of them. I gave him some milk in an
earthen pot, and let him see me drink it before him, and sop my
bread in it. And I gave him a cake of bread to do the like, which
he quickly complied with, and made signs that it was very good
for hin.

I kept there with him all that night; but as soon as it was day I
beckoned to him to come with me, and let him know I would give
him some clothes; at which he seemed very glad, for he was stark
naked. As we went by the place where he had buried the two
men he pointed exactly to the place, and showed me the marks
that he had made to find them again, making signs to me that we
should dig them up again and eat them! At this I appeared very
angry, expressed my abhorrence of it, made as if I would vomit at
the thoughts of it, and beckoned with my hand to him to come
away; which he did immediately, with great submission. I then
led him up to the top of the hill, to see if his enemies were gone ;
and, pulling out my glass, [ looked and saw plainly the place
where they had been, but no appearance of them, or of their canoes;
so that it was plain that they were gone, and had left their two
comrades behind them, without any search after them.

But I was not content with this discovery; but having now
more courage, and consequently more curiosity, I takes my man
Friday with me, giving him the sword in his hand with the bow
and arrows at his back, which I found he could use very dexter-
ously, making him carry one gun for me, and I two for myself,
and away we marched to the place where these creatures had been,
for I had a mind now to get some fuller intelligence of them.
When I came to the place, my very blood ran chill in my veins,
and my heart sunk within me at the horror of the spectacle. In-
deed it was a dreadful sight—at least it was so to me; though
Vriday made nothing of it. The place was covered with human
bones, the ground dyed with their blood, great pieces of flesh left
here and there, half-eaten, mangled and scorched ; and, in short.
AND ALSO A SUIT OF CLOTHES. 261

all the tokens of the triumphant feast they had been making there,
uiter the victory over their enemies. I saw three skulls, five hands,
and the bones of three or four legs and feet, and abundance of
other parts of the bodies ; and Friday, by his signs, made me under-
stand that they brought over four prisoners to feast upon; that
three of them were eaten up, and that he, pointing to himself, was
the fourth: hat there had been a great battle between them and
their next king, whose subjects it seems he had been one of; and
that they had taken a great number of prisoners, all which were
carried to several places by those that had taken them in the fight,
in order to feast upon them, as was done here by these wretches
upon those they brought hither.

I caused Friday to gather all the skulls, bones, flesh, and what-
ever remained, and lay them together on a heap, and make a great
fire upon it, and burn them all to ashes. I found Friday had still
a hankering stomach after some of the flesh, and was still a can-
nibal in his nature: but I discovered so much abhorrence at the
very thoughts of it, and at the least appearance of it, that he durst
not discover it ; for I had by some means let him know that I
would kill him if he offered it.

When we had done this, we came back to our castle, and there
I fell to work for my man Friday; and first of all I gave him a
pair of linen drawers, which I had out of the poor gunner’s chest
I mentioned, and which I found in the wreck, and which with a
little alteration fitted him very well. Then I made him a jerkin
of goat-skin, as well as my skill would allow, and I was now grown
a tolerable good tailor; and I gave him a cap which I had made
of a hare-skin, very convenient, and fashionable enough; and thus
he was clothed for the present tolerably well, and was mighty well
pleased to see himself almost as well clothed as his master. It is
true, he went awkwardly in these things at first: wearing the
drawers was very awkward to him, and the sleeves of the waistcoat
galled his shoulders and the inside of his arms; but a little eas-
ing them where he complained they hurt him, and using himself
to them, at length he took to them very well.

The next day after I came home to my hutch with him, I began
to consider where I should lodge him; and that I might do well
962 NEEDLESS PRECAUTIONS.

for him, and yet be perfectly easy myself, I made a little tent for
him in the vacant place between my two fortifications, in the inside
of the last, and in the outside of the first. And as there was a
door or entrance there into my cave, I made a formal framed door-
ease, and a door to it of boards, and set it up in the passage, a little
within the entrance; and causing the door to open on the inside,
T barred it up in the night, taking in my ladders too; so that
Friday could no way come at me in the inside of my innermost
wall without making so much noise in getting over, that it must
needs waken me. For my first wall had now a complete roof over
it of long poles covering all my tent, and leaning up to the side of
the hill, which was again laid cross with smaller sticks instead of
laths, and then thatched over a great thickness with the rice
straw, which was strong like reeds; and at the hole or place which
was left to go in or out by the ladder, I had placed a kind of trap-
door, which, if it had been attempted on the outside, would not
have opened at all, but would have fallen down and made a great
noise; and as to weapons, I took them all in to my side every
night.

But I needed none of all this precaution ; for never man had a
more faithful, loving, sincere servant than Friday was to me;
without passions, sullenness, or designs, perfectly obliged and
engaged; his very affections were tied to me, like those of a child
to a father, and I daresay he would have sacrificed his life for
the saving mine upon any occasion whatsoever. The many testi-
monies he gave me of this, put it out of doubt, and soon convinced
me that I needed to use no precautions as to my safety on his
account. ;

This frequently gave me occasion to observe, and that with
wonder, that however it had pleased God, in his providence, and
in the government of the works of his hands, to take from so great
a part of the world of his creatures the best uses to which their
faculties and the powers of their souls are adapted; yet that he has
bestowed upon them the same powers, the same reason, the same
affections, the same sentiments of kindness and obligation, the
same passions and resentments of wrongs, the same sense of grati-
tude sincerity, fidelity, and ail the capacities of doing good and
NEEDLESS SPECULATIONS. 268

receiving good, that he has given to us; and that when he pleases
to offer to them occasions of exerting these, they are as ready, nay,
more ready, to apply them to the right uses for which they were
bestowed than we are. And this made me very melancholy
sometimes, in reflecting, as the several occasions presented, how
mean a use we make of all these, even though we have these
powers enlightened by the great Lamp of instruction, the Spirit of
God, and by the knowledge of his Word, added to our understand-
ing; and why it has pleased God to hide the like saving know-
ledge from so many millions of souls, who, if I might judge by
this poor savage, would make a much better use of it than we did.

From hence I sometimes was led too far, to invade the sovereignty
of Providence, and, as it were, arraign the justice of so arbitrary a
disposition of things, that should hide that light from some, and
reveal it to others, and yet expect a like duty from both. But I
shut it up, and checked my thoughts with this conclusion: first,
That we did not know by what light and law these should be con-
demned; but that as God was necessarily, and by the nature of
his being, infinitely holy and just, so it could not be but that if
these creatures were all sentenced to absence from himself, it was
on account of sinning against that light which, as the Scripture
says, was a law to themselves; and by such rules as their con-
sciences would acknowledge to be just, though the foundation was
not discovered to us. And, second, That still as we are all the clay
in the hand of the Potter, no vessel could say to him, Why hast
thou formed me thus?

But to return to my new companion. I was greatly delighted
with him, and made it my business to teach him everything that
was proper to make him useful, handy, and helpful; but especially
to make him speak, and understand me when I spoke: and he was
the aptest scholar that ever was, and particularly was so merry, 80
constantly diligent, and so pleased, when he could but understand
me, or make me understand him, that it was very pleasant to me
to talk to him. And now my life began to be so easy, that I began
vo say to myself, that could I but have been safe from more

savages, I cared not if I was never to remove from the place while
I lived.
264 TEACHING THE YOUNG IDFA.

After I had been two or three days returned to my castle, 4
thought that, in order to bring Friday off from his horrid way of
feeding, and from the relish of a cannibal’s stomach, L ought to let
him taste other flesh; so I took him out with me one morning to
the woods. I went, indeed, intending to kill a kid out of my own
flock, and bring him home and dress it; but, as I was going, I saw
a she-goat lying down in the shade, and two young kids sitting by
her. I catched hold of Friday. * Hold,” says I, “stand still;” and
made sigus to him not to stir. Immediately [ presented my piece,
shot, and killed one of the kids. The poor creature, who had ata
distance indeed seen me kill the savage his enemy, but did not
know, or could imagine, how it was done, was sensibly surprised,
trembled, and shook, and looked so amazed. that IT thought he
would have sunk down. He did not see the kid I had shot at,
perceive I had killed it, but ripped up his waistcoat to feel if “
was not w ounded, and, as [ found, presently thought L was resolved
to kill him; for he came and knecled down to me, and embracing
my kuees, said a great many things [ did not understand, but I
could easily see that the meaning was to pray me not to kill him.

I soon found a way to convince him that I would do him no
harm, and taking him up by the hand, laughed at him, and pointing
to the kid which [ had killed, beckoned him to run and fetch it,
which he did; and while he was wondering and looking to sce
how the creature was killed, I loaded my gun again, and by-and-
by I saw a great fowl like a hawk sit upon a tree within shot; so,
to let Friday understand a little what I would do, I called him to
me again, pointing to the fowl, which was indeed a parrot, though
T thought it had been a hawk. I say, pointing to the parrot, and
to my gun, and to the ground under the parrot, to let him see I
would make it fall, I made him understand that I would shoot and
kill that bird. Accordingly I fired, and bade him look, and imme-
diately he saw the parrot fall. He stood like one frighted again,
notwithstanding all I had said to him; and I found he was the
more amazed because he did not see me put anything into the gun,
but thought that there must be some wonderful fund of death and
destruction in that thing, able to kill man, beast, bird, or anything,
uear or far off ; and the astonishment this created in him was such
FRIDAY’S ASTONISHMENT. 265

 

 

 

  

“MADE HIM UNDERSTAND I WOULD
SHOOT AND KILL TUAT BIRD.”

as could not wear off for a long
time; and I believe, if 1 would
have let him, he would have worshipped me and my gun! As for
. the gun itself, he would not so much as touch it for several days
after; but would speak to it, and talk to it as if it had answered
him, when he was by himself; which, as I afterwards learned of
him, was to desire-it not to kill him.

Well, after his astonishment was a little over at this, I pointed
to him to run and fetch the bird [ had shot; which he did, but
stayed some time; for the parrot, not being quite dead, was fluttered
a gond way off from the place where she fell; however, he found
her, took her up, and brought her to me; and, as I had perceived his
266 LESSONS IN CIVILIZATION.

ignorance about the gun before, I took this advantage to charge
the gun again, and not let him sce me do it, that I might be ready
for any other mark that might present. But nothing more offered
at that time; so I brought home the kid, and the same evening I
took the skin off, and cut it out as well as I could; and having a
pot for that purpose, I boiled or stewed some of the flesh, and
made some very good broth; and after I had begun to eat some, I
gave some to my man, who seemed very glad of it, and liked it
very well. But that which was strangest to him was to see me eat
salt with it. He made a sign to me that the salt was not good to
eat, and putting a little into his own mouth, he seemed to nauseate
it, and would spit and sputter at it, washing his mouth with fresh
water after it. On the other hand, I took some meat in my mouth
without salt, and I pretended to spit and sputter for want of salt
as fast as he had done at the salt. But it would not do, he would
never care for salt with his meat, or in his broth; at least, not for
a great while, and then but a very little.

Having thus fed him with boiled meat and broth, I was resolved
to feast him the next day with roasting a piece of the kid. This I
did by hanging it before the fire in a string, as I had seen many
people do in England, setting two poles up, one on each side of
the fire, and one cross on the top, and tying the string to the cross-
stick, letting the meat turn continually. This Friday admired
very much; but, when he came to taste the flesh, he took so many
ways to tell me how well he liked it, that I could not but under-
stand him; and at last he told me he would never eat man’s flesh
any more—which I was very glad to hear.

The next day I set him to work to beating some corn out, and
sifting it in the manner I used to do, as I observed before; and he
soon understood how to do it as well as J, especially after he had
seen what the meaning of it was, and that it was to make bread of ;
for after that I let him see me make my bread, and bake it too,
and in a little time Friday was able to do all the work for me as
well as I could do it myself.

I began now to consider that, having two mouths to feed instead
of one, I must provide more ground for my harvest, and plant a
larger quantity of corn than I used to do; so I marked out a larger
A CURIOUS DIALOGUE, 267

piece of land, and began the fence in the same manner as before; in
which Friday not only worked very willingly and very hard, but
did it very cheerfully. And I told him what it was for; that it was
for corn to make more bread, because he was now with me, and
that I might have enough for him and myself too. He appeared
very sensible of that part, and let me know that he thought I had
much more labour upon me on his account than I had for myself;
and that he would work the harder for me, if 1 would tell him
what to do.

This was the pleasantest year of all the life I led in this place.
Friday began to talk pretty well, and understand the names of
almost everything I had occasion to call for, and of every place I
had to send him to, and talk a great deal to me; so that, in short,
I began now to have some use for my tongue again, which indeed
I had very little occasion for before—that is to say, about speech.
Besides the pleasure of talking to him, I had a singular satisfaction
in the fellow himself. His simple unfeigned honesty appeared to
me more and more every day, and I began really to love the
creature; and, on his side, I believe he loved me more than it was
possible for him ever to love anything before.

I had a mind once to try if he had any hankering inclination to
his own country again; and having learned him English so well
that he could answer me almost any questions, I asked him whether
the nation that he belonged to never conquered ia battle? At
which he smiled, and said, ‘‘ Yes, yes; we always fight the better: ”
that is, he meant always get the better in fight; and so we began
the following discourse :—‘‘ You always fight the better,” said I:
‘how came you to be taken prisoner, then, Friday?”

Friday. My nation beat much, for all that.

Master. How beat; if your nation beat them, how came you to
be taken ?

Friday. They*more many than my nation in the place where
me was; they take one, two, three, and me. My nation over beat
them in yonder place, where me no was; there my nation take one,
two, great thousand.

Master. But why did not your side recover you from the hands
of your enemies then ?
268 A NEW MODE OF CALCULATION.

Friday. They run one, two, three, and me, and make go in the
canoe; my nation have no canoe that time.

Master. Well, Friday, and what does your nation do with the
men they take; do they carry them away and eat them, as these
did?

Friday. Yes; my nation cat mans too, eat all up.

Master. Where do they carry them ?

Irriday. Go to other place where they think.

Master. Do they come hither?

Irriday. Yes, yes, they come hither; come other else place.

Master. Wave you been here with them ?

Irriday. Yes, I been here (points to the north-west side of the
island, which it seems was their side).

By this I understood that my man Friday had formerly been
among the savages who used to come on shore on the further part
of the island on the same man-eating occasions that he was now
brought for. And some time after, when I took the courage to carry
him to that side, being the same I formerly mentioned, he pre-
sently knew the place, and told me he was there once when they
ate up twenty men, two women, and one child. He could not tell
twenty in English; but he numbered them by laying so many
stones on a row, and pointing to me to tell them over.

Thave told this passage because it introduces what follows; that,
after I had had this discourse with him, I asked him how far it
was from our island to the shore, and whether the canoes were not
often lost? He told me there was no danger, no canoes ever lost ;
but that, after a little way out to the sea, there was a current, and
a wind, always one way in the morning, the other in the after-
noon.

This I understood to be no more than the sets of the tide, as
going out, or coming in. But I afterwards understood it was
occasioned by the great draught and reflux of the mighty river
Orinoco, in the mouth or the gulf of which river, as I found after-
wards, our island lay; and this land which I perceived to the west
and north-west was the great island Trinidad, on the north point
of the mouth of the river. I asked Friday a thousand questions
about the country, the inhabitants, the sea, the coast, and what
FRIDAYS INFORMATION, 262

nations were near.
He told me all
he knew with
the greatest open-
ness imaginable.
I asked him the
names of the
several nations of
his sort of people,
but could get no
other name than
the Caribs ; from
whence I easily
understood that
these were the
Caribbees, which
our maps place
on the part of
America which
reaches from the
mouthof theriver
Orinoco to Gui-
ana, and onwards

 

to St. Martha. “HE NUMBERED THEM BY LAYING 80 MANY STONES
ON A ROW.”
He told me that

up a great way beyond the moon, that was, beyond the setting of
the moon, which must be west from their country, there dwelt
white bearded men like me, and pointed to my great whiskers,
which I mentioned before; and that they had killed much mans,
—that was his word. By all which I understood he meant the
Spaniards, whose cruelties in America had been spread over the
whole countries, and were remembered byall the nations from father
to son.

I inquired if he could tell me how I might come from this
island, and get among those white men. He told me, ‘ Yes, yes,
I might go in two canoe.” I could not understand what he
meant, or make him describe to me what he meant by two canoe,
270 THERE IS BUT ONE GOD.

till at last, with great difficulty, I found he meant it must be in a
large, great boat, as big as two canoes.

This part of Friday’s discourse began to relish with me very
well, and from this time I entertained some hopes that, one time
or other, I might find an opportunity to make my escape from
this place, and that this poor savage might be a means to help me
to do it.

During the long time that Friday has now been with me, and that
he began to speak to me, and understand me, I was not wanting to
lay a foundation of religious knowledge in his mind. Particularly,
T asked him one time, ‘‘ Who made him?" The poor creature did
not understand me at all, but thought I had asked who was his
father? But I took it by another handle, and asked him who made
the sea, the ground we walked on, and the hills and woods? He
told me it was one old Benamuckee, that lived beyond all. He
could describe nothing of this great person, but that he was very
old; much older, he said, than the sea or the land, than the moon
or the stars. I asked him then, “If this old person had made all
things, why did not all things worship him?” He looked very
grave, and with a perfect look of innocence said, ‘‘ All things do
say O to him.” I asked him if the people who die in his country
went away anywhere? He said, ‘“‘ Yes; they all went to Bena-
muckee.”” Then I asked him whether those they ate up went
thither too? He said, “ Yes.”

From these things I began to instruct him in the knowledge of
the true God. JI told him that the great Maker of all things lived
up there, pointing up towards heaven; that he governs the world
by the same power and providence by which he had made it; that
he was omnipotent—could do everything for us, give everything to
us, take everything from us: and thus, by degrees, I opened his
eyes. He listened with great attention, and received with pleasure
the notion of Jesus Christ being sent to redeem us; and of the
manner of making our prayers to God, and his being able to hear
us, even into heaven. He told me one day that if our God could
hear us up beyond the sun, he must needs be a greater God than
their Benamuckee, who lived but a little way off, and yet could
not hear, until they went up to the great mountains where he
A THEOLOGICAL INSTRUCTOR. 271

dwelt, to speak to him. J asked him if ever he went thither to
speak to him? He said, “ No, they never went that were young
men;” none went thither but the old men, whom he called their
Oowokakee—that is, as I made him explain to me, their religious,
or clergy; and that they went to say O (so he called saying prayers),
and then came back and told them what Benamuckee said. By
this I observed that there is priestcraft even amongst the most
blinded ignorant pagans in the world; and the policy of making a
secret religion, in order to preserve the veneration of the people to
the clergy, is not only to be found in the Roman, but perhaps
among all religions in the world, even among the most brutish and
barbarous savages.

I endeavoured to clear up this fraud to my man Friday, and told
him that the pretence of their old men going up to the mountains
to say O to their god Benamuckee was a cheat, and their bringing
word from thence what he said was much more so; that if they
met with any answer, or spoke with any one there, it must be with
an evil spirit. And then I entered into a long discourse with him
about the devil—the original of him, his rebellion against God, his
enmity to man, the reason of it, his setting himself up in the dark
parts of the world to be worshipped instead of God, and as God;
and the many stratagems he made use of to delude mankind to
their ruin—how he had a secret access to our passions, and to our
affections, to adapt his snares so to our inclinations as to cause us
even to be our own tempters, and to run upon our destruction by
our own choice.

I found it was not so easy to imprint right notions in his mind
about the devil as it was about the being of a God. Nature
assisted all my arguments to evidence to him even the necessity of
a great first Cause and overruling governing Power, a secret direct-
ing Providence, and of the equity. and justice of paying homage to
him that made us, and the like. But there appeared nothing of
all this in the notion of an evil spirit, of his original, his being,
his nature, and, above all, of his inclination to do evil, and to
draw us in to do so too; and the poor creature puzzled me once
in such a manner, by a question merely natural and innocent, that
I scarce knew what to say to him. [ had been talking a great

a 18

a
272 POSED BY A SAVAGE.

deal to him of the power of God, his omnipotence, his dreadful
aversion to sin, his being a consuming fire to the workers of
iniquity ; how, as he had made us all, he could destroy us and all
the world in a moment; and he listened with great seriousness to
me all the while.

After this I had been telling him how the devil was God’s
enemy in the hearts of men, and used all his malice and skill to
defeat the good designs of Providence, and to ruin the kingdom of
Christ in the world, and the like. ‘ Well,” says Friday; “ but
you say God is so strong, so great, is he not much strong, much
might as the devil?” “Yes, yes,” says I, “ Friday, God is
stronger than the devil, God is above the devil, and therefore we
pray to God to tread him down under our feet, and enable us to
resist his temptations, and quench his fiery darts.” “‘ But,” says
he again, “if God much strong, much might as the devil, why God
no kill the devil, so make him no more do wicked?”

I was strangely surprised at his question; and, after all, though
I was now an old man, yet I was but a young doctor, and ill
enough qualified for a casuist, or a solver of difficulties. And at
first I could not tell what to say; so I pretended not to hear him,
and asked him what he said. But he was too earnest for an
answer to forget his question; so that he repeated it in the very
same broken words as above. By this time I had recovered my-
self a little, and I said, “ God will at last punish him severely ; he
is reserved for the judgment, and is to be cast into the bottomless
pit to dwell with everlasting fire.” This did not satisfy Friday ;
but he returns upon me, repeating my words, “ ‘ Reserve—at last,’
me not understand. But why not kill the devil now, not kill
great ago?” “You may as well ask me,” said I, “why God does
not kill you and me when we do wicked things here that offend
him. We are preserved to repent and be pardoned.” He muses
a while at this. ‘Well, well,” says he, mighty affectionately
“that well; so you, I, devil, all wicked, all preserve, repent, God
pardon all.” Here I was run down again by him to the last
degree; and it was a testimony to me how the mere notions of
nature, though they will guide reasonable creatures to the know-
ledge of a God, and of a worship or homage due to the supreme
HOW THE TEACHER IS TAUGHT. 278

being of God, as the consequence of our nature, yet nothing but
divine revelation can form the knowledge of Jesus Christ, and of
a redemption purchased for us, of a Mediator of the new covenant,
and of an Intercessor at the footstool of God’s throne ;—I say,
nothing but a revelation from Heaven can form these in the soul;
and that, therefore, the Gospel of our Lord and Saviour Jesus
Christ, I mean the Word of God, and the Spirit of God, promised
for the guide and sanctifier of his people, are the absolutely
necessary instructors of the souls of men in the saving knowledge
of God and the means of salvation.

I therefore diverted the present discourse between me and my
man, rising up hastily, as upon some sudden occasion of going
out; then sending him for something a good way off, I seriously
prayed to God that he would enable me to instruct savingly this
poor savage; assisting, by his Spirit, the heart of the poor ignorant
creature to receive the light of the knowledge of God in Christ,
reconciling him to himself; and would guide me to speak so to him
from the Word of God, as his conscience might be convinced, his
eyes opened, and his soul saved. When he came again to me I
entered into a long discourse with him upon the subject of the
redemption of man by the Saviour of the world, and of the
doctrine of the gospel preached from Heaven; namely, of repent-
ance towards God and faith in our blessed Lord Jesus. I then
explained to him, as well as I could, why our blessed Redeemer
took not on him the nature of angels, but the seed of Abraham,
and how, for that reason, the fallen angels had no share in the
redemption; that he came only to the lost sheep of the house of
Israel, and the like.

I had, God knows, more sincerity than knowledge in all the
methods I took for this poor creature’s instruction; and must
acknowledge, what I believe all that act upon the same principle
will find, that, in laying things open to him, I really informed and
instructed myself in many things that either I did not know or
had not fully considered before, but which occurred naturally to
my mind upon my searching into them for the information of this
poor savage. And I had more affection in my inquiry after things
upon this occasion than ever I felt before; so that whether this
274 AN ISLAND EDEN,

poor wild wretch was the better for me or no, I had great reason
to be thankful that ever he came to me. My grief sat lighter
upon me, my habitation grew comfortable to me beyond measure ;
and when I reflected that in this solitary life which I had been con-
fined to, I had not only been moved myself to look up to Heaven,
and to seck to the hand that had brought me there, but was now to
be made an instrument under Providence to save the life, and, for
aught I know, the soul of a poor sayage, and bring him to the true
knowledge of religion and of the Christian doctrine, that he might
know Christ Jesus, to know whom is life eternal ;—J say, when I
reflected upon all these things, a secret joy ran through every part
of my soul; and T frequently rejoiced that ever I was brought to
this place, which I had so often thought the most dreadful of all
afflictions that could possibly have befallen me.

In this thankful frame I continued all the remainder of my
time; and the conyersation which employed the hours between
Friday and me was such as made the three years which we lived
there together perfectly and completely happy, if any such thing
as complete happiness can be formed in a sublunary state. The
savage was now a good Christian—a much better than I, though
T have reason to hope, and bless God for it, that we were equally
penitent, and comforted, rest: red penitents; we had here the Word
of God to read, and no further off from his Spirit to instruct than
if we had been in England.

T always applied myself to reading the Scripture, to let him
know, as well as I could, the meaning of what I read; and he,
again, by his serious inquiries and questions, made me, as I said
before, a much better scholar in the Seripture knowledge than I
should ever have been by my own private mere reading. Another
thing I cannot refrain from observing here, also from experience
in this retired part of my life—namely, how infinite and inexpres-
sible a blessing it is that the knowledge of God, and of the doctrine
of salvation by Christ Jesus, is so plainly laid down in the
Word of God, so easy to be received and understood, that as the
bare reading the Scripture made me capable of understanding
enough of my duty to carry me directly on to the great work of
sincere repentance for my sins and laying hold of a Saviour for
AND ITS TWO INHABITANTS, 276

life and salvation, to a stated reformation in practice and obedience
to all God’s commands, and this without any teacher or instructor
(I mean human), so the same plain instruction sufficiently served
to the enlightening this savage creature, and bringing him to be
such a Christian as I have known few equal to him in my life.

As to all the disputes, wranglings, strife and contention which
has happened in the world about religion, whether niceties in
doctrines or schemes of church government, they were all perfectly
useless to us, as, for aught I can yet see, they have been to all the
rest in the world. We had the sure guide to heaven—namely, thé
Word of God; and we had, blessed be God, comfortable views of
the Spirit of God, teaching and instructing us by his Word,
leading us into all truth, and making us both willing and obedient
to the instruction of his Word; and I cannot see the least use that
the greatest knowledge of the disputed points in religion, which
have made such confusions in the world, would have been to us if
we could have obtained it. But I must go on with the historical
part of things, and take every part in its order.

After Friday and I became more intimately acquainted, and
that he could understand almost all I said to him, and speak
fluently, though in broken English, to me, I acquainted him with
my own story, or at least so much of it as related to my coming
into the place, how I had lived there, and how long. I let him
into the mystery, for such it was to him, of gunpowder and bullet,
and taught him how to shoot. I gave him a knife, which he was
wonderfully delighted with; and I made him a belt, with a frog
hanging to it, such as in England we wear hangers in; and in the
frog, instead of a hanger, I gave him a hatchet, which was not
only as good a weapon in some cases, but much more useful upon
other occasions.

I described to him the country of Kurope, and particularly
England, which I came from; how we lived, how we worshipped
God, how we behaved to one another, and how we traded in ships
to all parts of the world. I gave him an account of the wreck
which J had been on board of, and showed him as near as I could
the place where she lay; but she was all beaten in pieccs before,
and gone.
276 WHAT MAY IT MEAN ?

IT showed him the ruins of our boat which we lost when we
escaped, and which T could not stir with my whole strength then,
but was now fallen almost all to pieces. Upon seeing this boat,
Friday stood musing a great while, and said nothing. I asked
him what it was he studied upon. At last says he, “ Me see such
boat like come to place at my nation.”

  

>
mS

 

“THE RUINS OF OUR BOAT, WHICH WAS NOW ALMOST FALLEN TO PLECES.”

I did not understand him a good while; but at last, when I had
examined further into it, T understood by him that a boat, such as
that had been, came on shore upon the country where he lived;
that is, as he explained it, was driven thither by stress of weather.
I presently imagined that some European ship must have been
cast away upon their coast, and the boat might get loose and
drive ashore; but was so dull, that I never once thought of -men
making escape from a wreck thither, much less whence they might
come; 0 1 only inquired after a description of the boat.
A PLEASANT PROSPECT, 277

Friday described the boat to me well enough; but brought me
better to understand him when he added, with some warmth, ‘‘ We
save the white mans from drown.’ Then I presently asked him
if there were any white mans, as he called them, in the boat.
“Yes,” he said; “the boat full of white mans.” I asked him
how many. Ile told upon his fingers seventeen. I asked him
then what became of them. He told me, ‘‘ They live, they dwell
at my nation.”

‘This put new thoughts into my head; for I presently imagined
that these might be the men belonging to the ship that was cast
away in sight of my island, as I now call it; and who, after the
ship was struck on the rock, and they saw her inevitably lost, had
saved themselves in their boat, and were landed upon that wild
shore among the savages.

Upon this I inquired of him more critically what was become
of them. He assured me they lived still there; that they had
been there about four years; that the savages let them alone, and
gave them victuals to live. I asked him how it came to pass they
did not kill them and eat them. He said, “No, they make
brother with them;” that is, as I understood him, a truce. And
then he added, “ ‘They no eat mans but when make the war fight;”
that is to say, they never eat any men but such as come to fight
with them and are taken in battle.

It was after this some considerable time, that being on the top
of the hill, at the east side of the island, from whence, as I have
said, I had in a clear day discovered the main, or continent of
America, Friday, the weather being very serene, looks very
earnestly towards the mainland, and in a kind of surprise falls a
jumping and dancing, and calls out to me, for I was at some
distance from him. I asked him what was the matter. ‘ Oh,
joy!’’ says he, “oh, glad! There see my country, there my
nation |” >

I observed an extraordinary sense of pleasure appeared in his
face, and his eyes sparkled, and his countenance discovered a
strange eagerness, as if he had a mind to be in his own country
again; and this observation of mine put a great many thoughta
into me, which made me at first not so easy about ny new map
278 FRIDAY AND HIS COUNTRYMEN.

Friday as T was before: and T made no doubt but that if Friday
could get back to his own nation again, he would not only forget all
his religion, but all his obligation to me; and would be forward
enough to give his countrymen an account of me, and come back
perhaps with a hundred or two of them, and make a feast upon
me, at which he might be as merry as he used to be with those of
his enemies when they were taken in war,

But T wronged the poor honest creature very much, for which
T was very sorry afterwards. However, as my jealousy increased,
and held me some weeks, T was a little more cireumspect, and not
so familiar and kind to him as before; in which T was certainly
in the wrong, too, the honest grateful creature having no thought
about it, but what consisted with the best principles, both as a
religious Christian and as a grateful friend, as appeared afterwards
to my full satisfaction.

While my jealousy of him lasted, you may be sure T was every
day pumping him, to see if he would discover any of the new
thoughts which T suspected were in him; but T fonnd everything
he said was so honest, and so innocent, that T could find nothing
to nourish my suspicion; and, in spite of all my uneasiness, he
made me at last entirely his own again ; nor did he in the least
perceive that T was uneasy, and therefore T could not suspect him
of deccit.

One day walking up the same hill, but the weather being hazy
at sea, so that we could not see the continent, I ealled to him, and
said, “ Friday, do not you wish yourself in your own country, your
own nation?” “ Yes,” he said; “I be much O glad to be at my
own nation.” “What would you do there?” said T. “ Would
you turn wild again, eat men’s flesh again, and be a savage as
you were before?” He looked full of concern, and shaking his
head, said, ‘‘ No, no; Friday tell them to live good, tell them to
pray God, tell them to eat corn-bread, eattle-flesh, milk, no eat
man again.” ‘Why, then,” said I to him, “ they will kill you.”
He looked grave at that, and then said, “No, they no kill me,
they willing love learn.” He meant by this, they would be willing
to learn. He added, they learned much of the bearded men that
came in the boat. Then T asked him if he would go back to
THE NEW BOATMAN, 279

them. He smiled at that, and told me he could not swiin so far,
I told him I would make a canoe for him. He told me he would
go if I would go with him. “I go!” says I; “why, they will

eat me if I come there.”

“No, no,” says he; ‘““me make they no
eat you; me make they much love you.” He meant he would
tell them how I had killed his enemies, and saved his life, and so
he would make them love me. Then he told me as well as he
could how kind they were to seventeen white men, or bearded
men, as he called them, who came on shore there in distress.

From this time, IT confess, I had a mind to venture over, and see
if I could possibly join with these bearded men, who, I made no
doubt, were Spaniards or Portuguese; not doubting but, if I could,
we might find some method to escape from thence, being upon the
continent, and a good company together, better than I could from
an island forty miles off the shore and alone without help. So,
after some days, I took Friday to work again, by way of discourse,
and told him I would give him a boat to go back to his own
nation; and accordingly I carried him to my frigate, which lay on
the other side of the island, and having cleared it of water, for I
always kept it sunk in the water, brought it out, showed it him,
and we both went into it.

I found he was a most dexterous fellow at managing it, would
make it go almost as swift and fast again as I could. So when he
was in, [ said to him, “ Well now, Friday, shall we go to your
nation?” He looked very,dull at my saying so; which it seems
was because he thought the boat too small to go so far. I told
him then I had a bigger. So the next day I went to the place
where the first boat lay which I had made, but which I could not
get into water. He said that was big enough. _ But then, as I
had taken no care of it, and it had lain two or three and twenty
years there, the sun had split and dried it, that it was in a manner
rotten. Friday told me such a boat would do very well, and would
carry “much enough vittle, drink, bread ;” that was his way of
talking.

Upon the whole, I was by this time so fixed upon my design of
going over with him to the continent, that I told him we would
go aud make one as big as that, and he should go home in it. He
280 FRIDAYS LOVE FOR HIS MASTER.

answered not one word, but looked very grave and sad. 1 asked
him, “What was the matter with him?” Teasked me again thus,
“Why you angry mad with Friday, what me done? I asked him
what he meant; I told him I was not angry with him at all.
“No angry! no angry!” says he, repeating the words several
times; “why send Friday home away to my nation?” ‘“ Why,”
says I, “ Friday, did you not say you wished you were there?”
“Yes, yes,” says he; “wish be both there—no wish Friday there,
no master there.” In a word, he would not think of going there
without me. “TI go there, Friday !” says I; “what shall I do there?”
He turned very quick upon me at this. “ You do great deal much
good,” says he; “you teach wild mans to be good sober tame
mans; you tell them know God, pray God, and live new life.”

 

“Alas! Friday,” says I, “thou knowest not what thou sayest; I am
but an ignorant man myself’ “ Yes, yes,” says he; “ you teachee
me good, you teachee them good.” ‘No, no, Friday,” says I; “ you
shall go without me; leave me here to live by myself, as I did
before.” He looked confused again at that word, and running to
one of the hatchets which he used to wear, he takes it up hastily,
comes and gives itme. “What must I do with this?” says I to him.
“You take kill Friday,” says he. “ What must I kill you for?”
said Lagain. He returns very quick, “ What you send Friday away
for ?—take kill Friday, no send Friday away.” This he spoke so
earnestly, that I saw tears stand in his eyes. In a word, I so plainly
discovered the utmost affection in him to me, and a firm resolution
in him, that I told him then, and often after, that I would never
send him away from me, if he was willing to stay with me.

Upon the whole, as I found by all his discourse a settled affection
to me, and that nothing should part him from me, so I found all the
foundation of his desire to go to his own country was laid in his
ardent affection to the people and his hopes of my doing them
good; a thing which, as I had no notion of myself, so I had not
the least thought or intention or desire of undertaking it. But
still I found a strong inclination to my attempting an escape, as
above, found on the supposition gathered from the discourse—
namely, that there were seventeen bearded men there; and _there-
fore, without any more delay, I went to work with Friday to find
BUILDING A CANOE. 281

out a great tree proper to fell, and make a large periagua or canoe
to undertake the voyage. There were trees enough in the island
to have built a little fleet, not of periaguas and canoes, but even of
good large vessels. But the main thing I looked at, was to get
one so near the water that we might launch it when it was made, to
avoid the mistake I committed at first.

At last, Friday pitched upon a tree, for I found he knew much
better than I what kind of wood was fittest for it; nor can I tell,
to this day, what wood to call the tree we cut down, except that it
was very like the tree we call fustic, or between that and the
Nicaragua wood, for it was much of the same colour and smell.

 

“To GET HER ALONG, INCH BY INCH, UPON GREAT ROLLERS.”

Vriday was for burning the hollow or cavity of this tree out to
make it for a boat; but I showed him how rather to cut it out
with tools; which, after I had showed him how to use, he did
very handily; and in about a month’s hard labour, we finished
it, and made it very handsome, especially when with our axes,
which I showed him how to handle, we cut and hewed the outside
into the true shape of a boat. After this, however, it cost us near
a fortnight’s time to get her along, as it were, inch by inch upon
great rollers into the water. But when she was in, she would have
carried twenty men with great ease.

When she was in the water, and though she was so big, it
amazed me to see with what dexterity and how swift my man
Friday would manage her, turn her, and paddle her along; 80 J
282 A BUNGLING SHIPWRIGHT.

asked him if he would, and if we might venture over in her
“Yes,” he said; “he venture over in her very well, though great
blow wind.” However, I had a further design that he knew
nothing of; and that was, to make a mast and sail, and to fit her
with an anchor and cable, As to a mast, that was easy enough to
get; so I pitched upon a straight young cedar-tree, which I found
near the place, and which there was great plenty of in the island ;
and I set Friday to work to cut it down, and gave him directions
how to shape and order it. But as to the sail, that was my par-
ticular care. 1 knew I had old sails, or rather pieces of old sails
enough; but as I had had them twenty-six years by me, and had
not been very careful to preserve them, not imagining that [ should
ever have this kind of use for them, I did not doubt but they were
all rotten; and, indeed, most of them were so. However, I found
two pieces which appeared pretty good, and with these I went to
work, and with a great deal of pains, and awkward tedious stitch-
ing (you may be sure) for want of needles, I at length made a
three-cornered ugly thing, like what we call in England a shoulder-
of-mutton-sail, to go with a boom at bottom, and a little short
sprit at the top, such as usually our ships’ long-boats sail with; and
such as I best knew how to manage, because it was such a one as
Thad to the boat in which I made my escape from Barbary, as
related in the first part of my story.

T was near two months performing this last work—namely, rig-
ging and fitting my mast and sails; for I finished them very
complete, making a small stay, and a sail or fore-sail to it, to
assist if we should turn to windward. And, which was more than
all, I fixed a rudder to the stern of her, to steer with; and though
I was but a bungling shipwright, yet as I knew the usefulness, and
even necessity of such a thing, I applied myself with so much
pains to do it, that at last I brought it to pass, though considering
the many dull contrivances I had for it that failed, I think it cost
me almost as much labour as making the boat.

After all this was done, too, I had my man Friday to teach as
to what belonged to the navigation of my boat; for though he
knew very well how to paddle a canoe, he knew nothing what
belonged to a sail and a rudder, and was the most amazed when
CRUSOE’S NEW DOCK. 283

he saw me work the boat to and again in the sca by the rudder ;
and how the sail jibed, and filled this way or that way, as the
course we sailed changed ;—I say, when he saw this he stood like
one astonished and amazed, However, with a little use, I made all
these things familiar to him; and he became an expert sailor, except
that, as to the compass, I could make him understand very little
of that. On the other hand, as there was very little cloudy
weather, and seldom or never any fogs in those parts, there was the
less occasion for a compass, seeing the stars were always to be scen
by night and the shore by day, except in the rainy seasons, and
then nobody cared to stir abroad, either by land or sea.

I was now entered on the seven-and-twentieth year of my
captivity in this place; though the three last years that I had
this creature with me ought rather to be left out of the account,
my habitation being quite of another kind than in all the rest
of the time. I kept the anniversary of my landing here with
the same thankfulness to God for his mercies as at first. And
if I had such cause of acknowledgment at first, I had much
more so now, having such additional testimonies of the care of
Providence over me, and the great hopes I had of being effectually
and speedily delivered; for I had an invincible impression upon
my thoughts that my deliverance was at hand, and that I
should not be another year in this place. However, I went on
with my husbandry, digging, planting, fencing, as usual; I
gathered and cured my grapes, and did every necessary thing, as
before.

The rainy season was in the meantime upon me, yhen I kept
more within doors than at other times. So I had stowed our new
vessel as secure as we could, bringing her up into the creek where,
as I said, in the beginning I landed my rafts from the ship; and
hauling her up to the shore at high-water mark, I made my man
Friday dig a little dock, just big enough to hold her, and just deep
enough to give her water enough to float in; and then, when the tide
was out, we made a strong dam across the end of it, to keep the water
out; and so she lay dry, as to the tide from the sea; and to keep
the rain off, we laid a great many boughs of trees so thick, that
she was as well thatched as a house; and thus we waited for the
284 ARRIVAL OF THE SAVAGES.

months of Noyember and December, in which I designed to make
my adventure,

When the settled season began to come in, as the thought of my
design returned with the fair weather, I was preparing daily for
the voyage. And the first thing I did was to lay by a certain
quantity of provisions, being the stores for our voyage ; and in-
tended, in a week or a fortnight’s time, to open the dock and
launch out our boat. [was busy one morning upon something
of this kind, when I called to Friday, and bade him go to the sea-
shore and see if he could find a turtle or tortoise—a thing which
we generally got once a week, for the sake of the eggs as well as
the flesh. Friday had not been long gone, when he came running
back, and flew over my outer wall or fence like one that felt not
the ground or the steps he set his feet on; and before | had time
to speak to him, he cries out to me, “O master! O master !—O
sorrow |—O bad!” “ What’s the matter, Friday?” says I. “Oh—
yonder—there,” says he; “one, two, three canoe !—one, two,
three!” By his way of speaking I concluded there were six; but
on inquiry, | found it was but three. ‘* Well, Friday,” says I, “do
not be frighted.” So | heartened him up as well as I could,
However, I saw the poor fellow was most terribly scared ; for
nothing ran in his head but that they were come to look for him,
and would cut him in pieces and eat him; and the poor fellow
trembled so, that 1 scarce knew what to do with him, I com-
forted him as well as 1 could, and told him I was in as much
danger as he, and that they would eat me as well as him: “ But,”
says I, “ Friday, we must resolve to fight them, Can you fight,
Friday?” “ Me shoot,” says he; “but there come many great
nunber.” “No matter for that,” said [ again; ‘our guns will
fright them that we do not kill,” so I asked him, “Whether, if 1
resolved to defend him, he would defend me, and stand by me, and
do just as 1 bid him?” He said, “Me die, when you bid die,
master.” So | went and fetched a good dram of rum and gave
him; for I had been so good a husband of my rum that I had a
great deal left. When he had drunk it, I made him take the two
fowling-pieces, which we always carried, and load them with large
swan-shot, as big as small pistol bullets; then | took four muskets.
CRUSOE DECIDES UPON WAR. 285

and loaded them with two slugs and five smal] bullets each; and
my two pistols I loaded with a brace of bullets each; I hung my
great sword as usual naked by my side, and gave Friday his
hatchet.

When I had thus prepared myself, I took my perspective-glass,
and went up to the side of the hill to see what I could discover.
And I found quickly, by my glass, that there were one-and-twenty
savages, three prisoners, and three canoes; and that their whole
business seemed to be the triumphant banquet upon these three
human bodies (a barbarous feast indeed), but nothing else more
than as I had observed was usual with them.

I observed, also, that they were landed, not where they had done
when Friday made his escape, but nearer to my creek, where the
shore was low, and where a thick wood came close almost down to
the sea, ‘This, with the abhorrence of the inhuman errand these
wretches came about, filled me with such indignation, that I came
down again to Friday and told him 1 was resolved to go down to
them and kill them all; and asked him if he would stand by me?
He was now gotten over his fright, and his spirits being a little
raised with the dram I had given him, he was very cheerful, and
told me, as before, “he would die, when I bid die.”

In this fit of fury, 1 took first and divided the arms which I had
charged, as before, between us. 1 gave Friday one pistol to stick
in his girdle, and three guns upon his shoulder; and I took one
pistol and the other three myself; and in this posture we marched
out. I took a small bottle of rum in my pocket, and gave Friday
a large bag with more powder and bullet. And as to orders, I
charged him to keep close behind me, and not to stir, or shoot, or
do anything till I bid him; and in the meantime, not to speak a
word. In this posture I fetched a compass to my right hand of
near a mile, as well to get over the creek as to get into the wood;
so that I might come within shoot of them before I should be dis-
covered, which I had seen by my glass it was easy to do.

While I was making this march, my former thoughts returning,
T began to abate my resolution. I do not mean that I entertained
any fear of their number; for as they were naked, unarmed
wretches, it is certain | was superior to them—nay, though I had
286 LYING LN AMBUSH.

becn alone; but it occurred to my thoughts, what call, what
oceasion, much less what necessity, I was in to go and dip my
hands in blood, to attack people who had neither done nor intended
ine any wrong—who as to me were innocent; and whose bar-
barous customs were their own disaster, being in them a token,
indeed, of God’s having left them, with the other nations of that
part of the world, to such stupidity and to such inhuman courses,
but did not call me to take upon me to be a judge of their
actions, much less an executioner of his justice: that whenever he
thought fit, he would take the cause into his own hands, and by
national vengeance punish them as a people for national crimes;
but that, in the meantime, it was none of my business: that it
was true Friday might justify it, because he was a declared enemy,
and in a state of war with those very particular people, and it was
lawful for him to attack them ; but I could not say the same with
respect to me. These things were so warmly pressed upon my
thoughts, all the way as I went, that I resolved I would only go
and place myself near them, that I might observe their barbarous
feast, and that I would act then as God should direct ; but that
unless something offered that was more a call to me than vet |
knew of, I would not meddle with them.

With this resolution [ entered the wood, and with all possible
wariness and silence, Friday following close at my heels, I marched
till I came to the skirt of the wood, on the side which was next to
them; only that one corner of the wood lay between me and them. —
Here I called softly to Friday, and showing him a great tree, which
was just at the corner of the wood, I bade him go to the tree and
bring me word if he could see there plainly what they were doing.
He did so, and came immediately back to me and told me they
might be plainly viewed there; that they were all about their fire,
eating the flesh of one of their prisoners; and that another lay
bound upon the sand, a little from them, which he said they would
kill next, and which fired all the very soul within me. He told
me it was not one of their nation, but one of the bearded men
whom he had told me of, that came to their country in the boat.
I was filled with horror at the very naming the white bearded man,
and going to the tree I saw plainly by my glass a white man wha
THE BATTLE BEGINS. 287

lay upon the beach of the sea, with his hands and his feet tied with
flags, or things like rushes; and that he was a Nuropean, and had
clothes on.

There was another tree, and a little thicket beyond it, about fifty
yards nearer to them than the place where I was, which, by going
a little way about, I saw I might come at undiscovered, and that
then I should be within half shot of them: so I withheld my
passion, though I was, indeed, enraged to the highest degree, and
going back about twenty paces, I got behind some bushes, which
held all the way till I came to the other tree; and then I came to
a little rising ground, which gave me a full view of them, at the
distance of about eighty yards.

T had now not a moment to lose; for nineteen of the dreadful
wretches sat upon the ground, all close huddled together, and had
just sent the other two to butcher the poor Christian, and bring
him perhaps limb by limb to their fire, and they were stooped
down to untie the bands at his feet. [I turned to Friday. “ Now,
Friday,” said I, “do as I bid thee.” Friday said he would.
“Then, Friday,” says I, “do exactly as you see me do—fail in
nothing.” So Iset down one of the muskets and the fowling-piece
upon the ground, and Friday did the like by his; and with the
other musket I took my aim at the savages, bidding him do the
like. Then asking him if he was ready, he said, “Yes.” ‘“ Then
fire at them,” said 1; and the same moment I fired also.

Friday took his aim so much better than I, that on the side that
he shot he killed two of them, and wounded three more; and on
my side, I killed one and wounded two. They were, you may be
sure, in a dreadful consternation; and all of them who were not hurt
jumped up upon their feet, but did not immediately know which
way to run or which way to look—for they knew not from whence
their destruction came. Friday kept his eyes close upon me, that,
as I had bid him, he might observe what I did. So as soon as the
first shot was made, I threw down the piece and took up the
fowling-piece, and Friday did the like; he sees me cock and pre-
sent; he did the same again. ‘“ Are you ready, Friday?” said I.
“ Yes,” says he. “Let fly, then,” says I, “in the nfime of God!”
and with that I fired again among the amazed wretches, and so did

1284) 19
288 SUCCESS OF THE TWO WARRIORS,

Friday. And as our pieces were now loaded with what T called
swan-shot, or small pistol bullets, we found only two drop; but so
many were wounded, that they ran about yelling and screaming,
like mad creatures, all bloody and miserably wounded, most of

 

“PMIRY RAN ABOUT YELLING AND SCREAMING, LIKE MAD CREATURES ”

them; whereof three more fell quickly after, though not quite
dead.

‘Now, Friday,” says I, laying down the discharged pieces, and
taking up the musket which was yet loaded, “ follow me,” says L;
which he did, with a great deal of courage. Upon which T rushed
out of the wood and showed myself, and Friday close at my foot.
As soon as I pereeived they saw me, I shouted as loud as [ could,
and bade Friffy do so too; and running as fast as I could,—which,
by the way, was not very fast, being laden with arms as T was,—
RESCUE OF A WHITE PRISONER. 289

[ made directly towards the poor victim, who was, as I said, lying
upon the beach or shore, between the place where they sat and the
sea. The two butchers, who were just going to work with him,
had left him at the surprise of our first fire, and fled in a terrible
fright to the sea-side and had jumped into a canoe, and three more
of the rest made the same way. [ turned to Friday, and bid him
step forward and fire at them, He understood me immediately,
and running about forty yards to be near them, he shot at them,
and I thought he had killed them all; for I see them all fall of a
heap into the boat; though T saw two of them up again quickly.
However, he killed two of them, and wounded the third; so that
he lay down in the bottom of the boat, as if he had been dead.

While my man Friday fired at them, [ pulled out my knife and
cut the flags that bound the poor victim, and loosing his hands and
feet, I lifted him up, and asked him in the Portuguese tongue,
“What he was?” He answered in Latin, “ Christianus;” but
was so weak and faint, that he could scarce stand or speak. I took
my bottle out of my pocket and gave it him, making signs that he
should drink, which he did; and I gave him a piece of bread,
which he ate. Then I asked him, ‘“ What countryman he was?”
And he said “ Espagniole;” and being a little recovered, let me
know, by all the signs he could possibly make, how much he was
in my debt for his deliverance. “ Seignior,” said I, with as much
Spanish as I could make up, “ we will talk afterwards, but we must
fight now. If you have any strength left, take this pistol and
sword and lay about you.” He took them very thankfully ; and
no sooner had he the arms in his hands, but, as if they had put new
vigour into him, he flew upon his murderers like a fury, and had
cut two of them in pieces in an instant. For the truth is, as the
whole was a surprise to them, so the poor creatures were so mueh
righted with the noise of our pieces, that they fell down for mere
amazement and fear; and had no more power to attempt their own
escape than their flesh had to resist our shot. And that was the
case of those five that Friday shot at in the boat; for as three of
them fell with the hurt they received, so the other two fell with
the fright.

I kept my piece in my hand still, without firing, being willing
290 COUNTING UP THE CARNAGE.

to keep my charge ready, because IT had given the Spaniard my
pistol and sword. So I called to Friday, and bade him run up to
the tree from whence we first fired, and fetch the arms which lay
there that had been discharged—which he did with great swiftness ;
and then giving him my musket, I sat down myself to load all the
rest again, and bade them come to me when they wanted. While
I was loading these pieces, there happened a fierce engagement
between the Spaniard and one of the savages, who made at him
with one of their great wooden swords,—the same weapon that was
to have killed him before, if I had not prevented it. The Spaniard,
who was as bold and as brave as could be imagined, though weak,
had fought this Indian a good while, and had cut him two great
wounds on his head; but the savage, being a stout lusty fellow,
closing in with him, had thrown him down (being faint), and was
wringing my sword out of his hand, when the Spaniard, though
undermost, wisely quitting the sword, drew the pistol from his
girdle, shot the savage through the body and killed him upon the
spot, before I, who was running to help him, could come near him.

Friday, being now left to his liberty, pursued the flying wretches
with no weapon in his hand but his hatchet; and with that he
despatched those three who, as I said before, were wounded at
first and fallen, and all the rest he could come up with. And the
Spaniard coming to me for a gun, I gave him one of the fowling-
pieces, with which he pursued two of the savages, and wounded
them both: but as he was not able to run, they both got from him
into the wood, where Friday pursued them and killed one of them ;
but the other was too nimble for him, and though he was wounded,
yet had plunged himself into the sea, and swam with all his might
off to those two who were left in the canoe: which three in the
canoe, with one wounded, whom we knew not whether he died or
no, were all that escaped our hands of one-and-twenty. The account
of the rest is as follows :—

3 Killed at our first shot from the tree.

2 Killed at the next shot.

2 Killed by Friday in the boat.

2 Killed by ditto, of those at first wounded.
1 Killed by ditto, in the wood.
ANOTHER VICTIM SAVED, 291

3 Killed by the Spaniard.

4 Killed, being found dropped here and there of thoir wounds,
or killed by Friday in his chase of them.

4 Escaped in the boat, whereof one wounded, if not dead.

21 Jn all.

Those that were in the canoe worked hard to get out of gun-
shot; and though Friday made two or three shots at them, I did
not find that he hit any of them. Friday would fain have had me
take one of their canoes, and pursue them; and indeed I was
very anxious about their escape, lest, carrying the news home to
their people, they should come back, perhaps, with two or three
hundred of their canoes, and devour us by mere multitude. So I
consented to pursue them by sea, and running to one of their
canoes, I jumped in, and bade Friday follow me; but when I was
in the canoe I was surprised to find another poor creature lie there
alive, bound hand and foot, as the Spaniard was, for the slaughter,
and almost dead with fear, not knowing what the matter was; for
he had not been able to look up over the side of the boat, he was
tied so hard, neck and heels, and had been tied so long, that he
had really but little life in him.

I immediately cut the twisted flags, or rushes, mia they had
bound him with, and would have helped him up; but he could
not stand or speak, but groaned most piteously, believing, it seems
still, that he was only unbound in order to be killed.

When Friday came to him, I bade him speak to him, and tell
him of his deliverance, and pulling out my bottle, made him give
the poor wretch a dram} which, with the news of his being delivered,
revived him, and he sat up in the boat. But when Friday came to
hear him speak, and look in his face, it would have moved any one
to tears to have seen how Friday kissed him, embraced him, hugged
him, cried, laughed, hallooed, jumped about, danced, sung, then
cried again, wrung his hands, beat his own face and head, and then
sung and jumped about again like a distracted creature. It was a
good while before I could make him speak to me, or tell me what
was the matter; but when he came a little to himself, he told me
that it was his father |
292 FRIDAY AND HIS FATHER,

It is not easy for me to express how it moved me to see what
ecstasy and filial affection had worked in this poor savage at the
sight of his father, and of his being delivered from death; nor
indeed can T describe half the extravagances of his affection after
this—for he went into the boat and out of the boat a great many
times. When he went in to him, he would sit down by him, open
his breast, and hold his father’s head close to his bosom half an
hour together, to nourish it; then he took his arms and ankles,
which were numbed and stiff with the binding, and chafed and
rubbed them with his hands; and I perceiving what the case was,
gave him some rum out of my bottle to ruo them with, which did
them a great deal of good.

This action put an end to our pursuit of the canoe with the
other savages, who were now gotten almost out of sight. And it
was happy for us that we did not; for it blew so hard within
two hours after, and before they could be gotten a quarter of
their way, and continued blowing so hard all night, and that
from the north-west, which was against them, that I could not
suppose their boat could live, or that they ever reached to their
own coast.

But to return to Friday, he was so busy about his father that I
could not find in my heart to take him off for some time. But
after 1 thought he could leave him a little, I called him to me, and
he came jumping and laughing and pleased to the highest extreme,
Then I asked him if he had given his father any bread? Le shook
his head and said, “ None. Ugly dog eat all up self.’ So I gave
him a cake of bread out of a little pouch I carried on purpose; 1
also gave hima dram for himself, but he would not taste it, but
carried it to his father. I had in my pocket also two or three
bunches of my raisins, so I gave him a handful of them for his
father. He had no sooner given his father these raisins but I saw
him come out of the boat and run away as if he had been bewitched,
he ran at such a rate—for he was the swiftest fellow of his foot that
ever I saw; I say, he ran at such a rate that he was out of sight,
as it were, in an instant; and though I called, and hallooed too,
after him, it was all one, away he went, and in a quarter of an how
I saw him come back again, though not so fast as he went; and as
CRUSOE AND HIS SUBJECTS. 298

he came nearer, I found his pace was slacker because he had some-
thing in his hand.

When he came up to me, I found he had been quite home for
an earthen jug or pot to bring his father some fresh water, and that
he had got two more cakes or loaves of bread. The bread he gave
me, but the water he carried to his father. However, as I was
very thirsty too, I took a little sup of it. This water revived his
father more than all the rum or spirits I had given him; for he
was just fainting with thirst.

When his father had drunk, I called to him to know if there
was any water left? He said, “ Yes;” and I bade him give it to
the poor Spaniard, who was in as much want of it as his father ;
and I sent one of the cakes that Friday brought to the Spaniard —
too, who was indeed very weak, and was reposing himself upon a
green place under the shade of a tree, and whose limbs were also
very stiff and very much swelled with the rude bandage he had
been tied with. When I saw that upon Friday’s coming to him
with the water, he sat up and drank, and took the bread and began
to eat, I went to him and gave him a handful of raisins. He
looked up in my face with all the tokens of gratitude and thankful-
ness that could appear in any countenance ; but was so weak, not-
withstanding he had so exerted himself in the fight, that he could
not stand up upon his feet He tried to do it two or three times,
but was really not able, his ankles were so swelled and so painful
to him; so I bade him sit still, and caused Friday to rub his ankles
and bathe them with rum, as he had done his father’s.

I observed the poor affectionate creature every two minutes, or
perhaps less, all the while he was here, turned his head about, to
see if his father was in the same place and posture as he left him
sitting ; and at last he found he was not to be seen; at which he
started up, and without speaking a word, flew with that swift-
ness to him, that one could scarce perceive his feet to touch the
ground as he went. But when he came, he only found he had
laid himself down to ease his limbs; so Friday came back to me
presently, and I then spoke to the Spaniard to let Friday help him
up if he could, and lead him to the boat, and then he should carry
him to our dwelling, where I would take care of him. But Friday,
294 THE KING OF THE ISLAND,

a lusty strong fellow, took the Spaniard quite up upon his back,
and carried him away to the boat, and set him down softly upon
the side or gunwale of the canoe, with his feet in the inside of it,
and then lifted him quite in, and set him close to his father, and
presently stepping out again, launched the boat off, and paddled it
along the shore faster than I could walk, though the wind blew
pretty hard too. So he brought them both safe into our creek ;
and leaving them in the boat, runs away to fetch the other cance.
As he passed me I spoke to him, and asked him whither he went ?
He told me, “ Go fetch more boat.” So away he went like the
wind, for sure never man or horse ran like him; and he had the
other canoe in the creek almost as soon as I got to it by land. So
he wafted me over, and then went to help our new guests out of
the boat, which he did. But they were neither of them able to
walk, so that poor Friday knew not what to do.

To remedy this, | went to work in my thought, and calling to
Friday to bid them sit down on the bank while he came to me, I
soon made a kind of hand-barrow to lay them on, and Friday and
T carried them up both together upon it between us. But when
we got them to the outside of our wall or fortification, we were at
a worse loss than before, for it was impossible to get them over;
and I was resolved not to break it down. So I set to work
again; and Friday and I, in about two hours’ time, made a very
handsome tent, covered with old sails, and above that with boughs
of trees, being in the space without our outward fence, and between
that and the grove of young wood which [had planted. And here
we made them two beds of such things as I had; namely, of good
rice straw, with blankets laid upon it to lie on, and another to
cover them on each bed.

My island was now peopled, and I thought myself very rich in
subjects. And it was a merry reflection which I frequently made,
how like a king I looked. First of all, the whole country was my
own mere property; so that [had an undoubted right of dominion.
Secondly, my people were perfectly subjected; I was absolute lord
and lawgiver ; they all owed their lives to me, and were ready to
lay down their lives, if there had been occasion of it, for me.
It was remarkable, too, we had but three subjects, and they were
TWO NEW SUBJECTS. 295

of three different religions. My man Friday was a Protestant, his
father was a Pagan and a cannibal, and the Spaniard was a Papist.
However, I allowed liberty of conscience throughout my dominions.
But this is by the way.

As soon as I had secured my two weak rescued prisoners, and
given them shelter and a place to rest them upon, I began to think
of making some provision for them. And the first thing I did, 1
ordered Friday to take a yearling goat—betwixt a kid and a goat—
out of my particular flock, to be killed, when I cut off the hinder
quarter, and chopping it into small pieces, I set Friday to work to
boiling and stewing, and made them a very good dish, I assure
you, of flesh and broth, having put some barley and rice also into
the broth; and as I cooked it without doors, for I made no fire
within my inner wall, so I carried it all into the new tent; and
having set a table there for them, I sat down and ate my own
dinner also with them, and, as well as I could, cheered them and
encouraged them; Friday being my interpreter, especially to his
father, and indeed to the Spaniard too, for the Spaniard spoke the
language of the savages pretty well.

After we had dined, or rather supped, I ordered Friday to take
one of the canoes, and go and fetch our muskets and other firearms,
which for want of time we had left upon the place of battle: and
the next day I ordered him to go and bury the dead bodies of the
savages, which lay open to the sun and would presently be offensive;
and T also ordered him to bury the horrid remains of their bar-
barous feast, which I knew were pretty much, and which I could
not think of doing myself; nay, I could not bear to see them if I
went that way. All which he punctually performed, and defaced
the very appearance of the savages being there; so that, when I
went again, I could scarce know where it was, otherwise than by
the corner of the wood pointing to the place.

I then began to enter into a little conversation with my two new
subjects. And first I set Friday to inquire of his father what he
thought of the escape of the savages in that canoe, and whether we
might expect a return of them with a power too great for us to
resist. His first opinion was, that the savages in the boat never
could live out the storm which blew that night they went off, but
296 A NEW SUBJECT OF ANXIETY,

must of necessity be drowned or driven south to those other shores
where they were as sure to be devoured as they were to be drowned
if they were cast away. But as to what they would do if they came
sule on shore, he said he knew not; but it was his opinion that they
were so dreadfully frighted with the manner of their being attacked
—the noise and the fire—that he believed they would tell their
people they were all killed by thunder and lightning, not by the
hand of man; and that the two which appeared—namely, Friday
and me—were two heavenly spirits or furies come down to destroy
them, and not men with weapons. ‘This he said he knew, because
he heard them all cry out so in their language to one another; for
it was impossible for them to conceive that a man could dart fire
and speak thunder, and kill at a distance without lifting up the
hand, as was done now. And this old savage was in the right ;
for, as T understood since by other hands, the savages never
attempted to go over to the island afterwards; they were so terrified
with the accounts given by those four men (for it seems they did
escape the sea) that they believed whoever went to that enchanted
island would be destroyed with fire from the gods!

This, however, 1 knew not, and therefore was under continual
apprehensions for a good while, and kept always upon my guard,
me and all my army; for as we were now four of us, [ would have
ventured upon a hundred of them fairly in the open field at any time.

Tn a little time, however, no more canoes appearing, the fear of
their coming wore off, and I began to take my former thoughts of
a voyage to the main into consideration, being likewise assured by
Wriday’s father that Linmight depend upon good usage from their
nation on his account, if T would go.

But my thoughts were a little suspended when J had a serious
discourse with the Spaniard, and when I understood that there
were sixteen more of his countrymen and Portuguese, which 1s
near that number, who, having been cast away and made their
escape to that side, lived there at peace indeed with the savages,
but were very sore put to it for necessaries, and indeed for life.
Lasked him all the particulars of their voyage, and found they
were a Spanish ship bound from the Rio de la Plata to the
Havannah, being directed to leave their loading there, which was
CRUSOE AND THE SPANIARL 297

chiefly hides and silver, and to bring back what Kuropean goods
they could meet with there; that they had five Portuguese sea-
men on board, whom they took out of another wreck; that five of
their own meu were drowned when the first ship was lost, and that
these escaped through infinite dangers and hazards, and arrived
almost starved on the Cannibal coast, where they expected to have
been devoured every moment.

Ie told me they had some arms with them, but they were per-
fectly useless, for that they had neither powder nor ball, the washing
of the sea having spoiled all their powder but a little, which they
used at their first landing to provide themselves some food.

L asked him what he thought would become of them there, and
if they had formed no design of making any escape? He said they
had many consultations about it, but that having neither vessel nor
tools to build one, nor provisions of any kind, their councils always
ended in tears and despair.

IT asked him how he thought they would receive a proposal from
me which might tend towards an escape? and whether, if they
were all here, it. might not be done? I told him with freedom I
feared mostly their treachery and ill usage of me if I put my life
in their hands; for that gratitude was no inherent virtue in the
nature of man; nor did men always square their dealings by the
obligations they had received, so much as they did by the advan-
tages they expected. I told him it would be very hard that I
should be the instrument of their deliverance and that they should
afterwards make me their prisoner in New Spain, where an English-
man was certain to be made a sacrifice, what necessity or what
accident soever brought him thither; and that I’d rather be de-
livered up to the savages and be devoured alive, than fall into the
merciless claws of the priests, and be carried into the Inquisition.
I added, that otherwise I was persuaded, if they were all here, we
might with so many hands build a bark large enough to carry us
all away, either to the Brazils southward, or to the islands or
Spanish coast northward; but that if in requital they should,
when I had put weapons into their hands, carry me by force among
their own people, I might be ill used for my kindness to them, and
make niy case worse than it was before.
298 A REASON FOR DELAY.

He answered, with a great deal of candour and ingenuity, that
their condition was so miserable, and they were so sensible of it,
that he believed they would abhor the thought of using any man
unkindly that should contribute to their deliverance ; and that if I
pleased, he would go to them with the old man, and discourse
with them about it, and return again, and bring me their answer:
that he would make conditions with them upon their solemn oath,
that they should be absolutely under my leading as their com-
mander and captain; and that they should swear upon the holy
sacraments and the gospel to be true to me, and go to such Christian
country as that T should agree to, and no other; and to be directed
wholly and absolutely by my orders, till they were landed safely
in such country as I intended; and that he would bring a contract
from them under their hands for that purpose.

hen he told me he would first swear to me himself, that he
would never stir from me as longas he lived till L gave him orders ; and
that he would take my side to the last drop of his blood if there
should happen the least breach of faith among his countrymen.

Ife told me they were all of them very civil, honest men, and
they were under the greatest distress imaginable, having neither
weapons nor clothes nor any food, but at the merey and discretion
of the savages; out of all hopes of ever returning to their own
country; and that he was sure, if I would undertake their relief,
they would live and die by me.-

Upon these assurances, T resolved to relieve them if possible, and
to send the old savage and the Spaniard over to them to treat; but
when we had gotten all things in a readiness to go, the Spaniard him-
self started an objection, which had so much prudence in it on one
hand, and so much sincerity on the other hand, that T could not but
be very well satisfied in it; and by his advice put off the deliver-
ance of his comrades for at least half a year. The case was thus:—

He had been with us now about a month, during which time [
had let him see in what manner [ had provided, with the assist:
ance of Providence, for my support; and he saw evidently what
stock of corn and rice I had laid up, which, as it was more than
sufficient for myself, so it was not sufficient, at least without good
husbandry, for my family, now, it was increased to number four.
UT SIM PARATUS. . 299

But much less would it be sufficient if his countrymen, who were
as he said, fourteen still alive, should come over. And least of all
would it be sufficient to victual our vessel, if we should build one,
for a voyage to any of the Christian colonies of America. So he
told ine he thought it would be more advisable to let him and the
two others dig and cultivate some more land, as much as [ could
spare seed to sow; and that we should wait another harvest, that
we might have a supply of corn for his countrymen when they
should come; for want might be a temptation to them to disagree,
or not to think themselves delivered otherwise than out of one
difficulty intoanother. ‘You know,” says he, “the children of Tsrael,
though they rejoiced at first for their being delivered out of Kgypt,
yet rebelled even against God himself that delivered them, when
they came to want bread in the wilderness.”

Ilis caution was so seasonable, and his advice so good, that I
could not but be very well pleased with his proposal, as well as I
was satisfied with his fidelity. So we fell to digging, all four of us,
as well as the wooden tools we were furnished with permitted ;
and in about a month’s time, by the end of which it was seed-time,
we had gotten as much land cured and trimmed up as we sowed
twenty-two bushels of barley on and sixteen jars of rice—which
was, in short, all the seed we had to spare: nor, indeed, did we leave
ourselves barley sufficient for our own food for the six months that
we had to expect our crop; that is to say reckoning from the time
we set our seed aside for sowing, for it is not to be supposed it is
six months in the ground in that country.

Having now socicty enough, and our number being sufficient to
put us out of fear of the savages if they had come, unless their
number had been very great, we went freely all over the island
wherever we found occasion; and as here we had our escape or
deliverance upon our thoughts, it was impossible, at least
for me, to have the means of it out of mine. To this purpose
I marked out several trees which I thought fit for our work, and I
set Friday and his father to cutting them down; and then I caused
the Spaniard, to whom I imparted my thought on that affair, to
oversee and direct their work. I showed them with what inde-
fatigable pains I had hewed a large tree into single planks, and J
300 THE HARVEST SEASON,

caused them to do the like, till they had made about a dozen large
planks of good oak, near two feet broad, thirty-five feet long,
and from two inches to four inches thick. What prodigious labow
it took up, any one may imagine,

At the same time T contrived to increase niy little flock of tame
goats as much as [ could, and to this purpose [made Friday and
the Spaniard go out one day, and myself with Friday the next
day; for we took our turns: and by this means we got above
twenty young kids to breed up with the rest; for whenever we shot
the dam, we saved the kids, and added them to our flock. But
above all, the season for curing the grapes coming on, L caused
such a prodigious quantity to be hung up in the sun, that T believe
had we been at Alicant, where the raisins of the sun are cured, we
could have filled sixty or eighty barrels. And these with our
bread was a great part of our food; and very good living too, |
assure you, for it is an exceeding nourishing food.

It was now harvest, and our crop in good order. [t was not the
most plentiful increase [had seen in the island, but however it
was enough to answer our end; for from our twenty-two bushels of
barley we brought in and thrashed out above two Iundred and
twenty bushels, and the like in proportion of the rice; which was
store enough for our food to the next harvest, though all the six-
teen Spaniards had been on shore with me: or if we had been
ready for a voyage, it would very plentifully have victualled our
ship to have carried us to any part of the world—that is to say, of
America,

When we had thus housed and secured our magazine of corn,
we fell to work to make more wicker-work, namely, great baskets
in which we kept it; and the Spaniard was very handy and dex-
terous at this part, and often blamed me that [ did not make some
things for defence of this kind of work; but [saw no need of it.

And now having a full supply of food for all the guests T ex-
pected, IT gave the Spaniard leave to go over to the main to see
what he could do with those he had left behind him there. TI gave
him a strict charge in writing not to bring any man with him who
would not first swear in the presence of himself and of the old
savage, that he would no way injure, fight with, or attack the
AN UNFORESEEN ACCIDENT. 801

person he should find in the island, who was so kind to send for
them in order to their deliverance ; but that they would stand by
and defend him against all such attempts, and wherever they went
would be entirely under and subjected to his commands; and that
this should be put in writing, and signed with their hands. How
we were to have this done, when I knew they had neither pen or
ink—that indeed was a question which we never asked.

Under these instructions, the Spaniard and the old savage, the
father of Friday, went away in one of the canoes which they might
be said to come in, or rather were brought in, when they came as
prisoners to be devoured by the savages.

I gave each of them a musket with a firelock on it, and about
eight charges of powder and ball, charging them to be very good
husbands of both, and not to use either of them but upon urgent
occasion,

This was a cheerful work, being the first measures used by me
in view of my deliverance for now twenty-seven years and some
days. I gave them provisions of bread and of dried grapes suffi-
cient for themselves for many days, and sufficient for all their
countrymen for about eight days’ time; and wishing them a good
voyage, I see them go, agreeing with them about a signal they
should hang out at their return, by which I should know them again
when they came back at a distance, before they came on shore.

They went away with a fair gale on the day that the moon was
at full by my account, in the month of October. But as for an
exact reckoning of days, after I had once lost it, I could never re-
cover it again; nor had I kept even the number of years so punc-
tually as to be sure that I was right, though, asit proved when I
afterwards examined my account, I found T had kept a true reckon-
ing of years.

It was no less than eight days I had waited for them, when a
strange and unforeseen accident intervened, of which the like has
not perhaps been heard of in history. I was fast asleep in my
hutch one morning, when my man Friday came running in to
me and called aloud, ‘ Master, master, they are come, they are
come!”

T jumped up, and regardless of danger, I went out as soon as I
802 WHO COME HERE?

could get my clothes on, through my little grove, which, by the
way, was by this time grown to be a very thick wood; I say, re-
gardless of danger, I went without my arms, which was not my
custom to do; but I was surprised, when, turning my eyes to
the sea, I presently saw a boat at about a league and half’s dis-

 

“ PRESENTLY SAW A BOAT AT ABOUT A LEAGUE AND A HALF'S DISTANCE.”

tance, standing in for the shore with a shoulder-of-mutton sail, aa
they call it; and the wind blowing pretty fair to bring them in,
also 1 observed, presently, that they did not come from that side
which the shore lay on, but from the southernmost end of the island.
Upon this I called Friday in, and bid him lie close, for these were
THE VALUE OF PRESENTIMENTS. 308

not the people we looked for, and that we might not know yet
whether they were friends or enemies.

Tn the next place, I went in to fetch my perspective-glass to sea
what I could make of them; and having taken the ladder out, J
climbed to the top of the hill, as T used to do when I was appre-
hensive of anything, and to take my view the plainer without being
discovered,

I had scarce set my foot on the hill, when my eye plainly dis-
covered a ship lying at an anchor, at about two leagues and a hali’s
distance from me south-south-east, but not above a league and a half
from the shore. By my observation it appeared plainly to be an
English ship, and the boat appeared to be an English long-boat.

I cannot express the confusion I was in, though the joy of see-
ing a ship, and one who I had reason to believe was manned by
Iny own countrymen and consequently friends, was such as I can-
not describe. But yet I had some secret doubts hung about me, I
cannot tell from whence they came, bidding me keep upon my
guard. In the first place, it occurred to me to consider what busi-
ness an English ship could have in that part of the world, since it
was not the way to or from any part of the world where the Eng-
lish had any traffic; and I knew there had been no storms to drive
them jn there as in distress; and that if they were English really,
it was most probable that they were here upon no good design,
and that I had better continue as I was than fall into the hands ot
thieves and murderers. ;

Let no man despise the secret hints and notices of danger, which
sometimes are given when he may think there is no possibility of
its being real. That such hints and notices are given us, I believe
few that have made any observations of things can deny; that
they are certain discoveries of an invisible world, and a converse
of spirits, we cannot doubt; and if the tendency of them seems to be
to warn us of danger, why should we not suppose they are from some
friendly agent—whether supreme, or inferior and subordinate, is
not the question; and that they are given for our good?

The present question abundantly confirms me in the justice of
this reasoning; for had I not been made cautious by this secret

admonition, come it from whence it will, I had been undone inevi-
(234, 20
804 AN EXTRAORDINARY SCENE,

tably, and in a far worse condition than before, as you will see
presently.

Thad not kept myself long in this posture, but T saw the boat
draw near the shore, as if they looked for a creek to thrust in at
for the convenience of landing. Tlowever, as they did not come
quite far enough, they did not see the little inlet where I formerly
Janded my rafts, but ran their boat on shore upon the beach, at
about half a mile from me; which was very happy for me, for
otherwise they would have landed just, as Limay say, at my door,
and would soon have beaten me out of my castle, and perhaps have
plundered me of all [ had.

When they were on shore, [was fully satisfied that they were
Knglishinen, at least: most of them. Que or two L thought were
Dutch; but it did not prove so. There were in all eleven men,
whereof three of then TL found were unarmed, and, as I thought,
bound; and when the first four or five of them were jumped on
shore, they took those three out of the boat as prisoners. One of
the three T could perceive using the most passionate gestures of
entreaty, aflliction, and despair, even to a kind of extravagance ;
the other two, [ could) perceive, lifted wp their hands sometimes,
and appeared concerned indeed, but not to such a degree as the
first.

I was perfectly confounded at the sight, and knew not what the
meaning of it should be. Friday called out to me in English as
well as he could, * O master! you see English mans eat prisoner
as well as savage mans.”’— Why,” says 1, “ Friday, do you think
they are a going to eat them, then ?”—“ Yes,” says Friday, “ they
will eat them.”-—“ No, no,” says T, “Friday; I am afraid they
will murder them, indeed, but you may be sure they will not eat
them.”

All this while I had no thought of what the matter really was,
but stood trembling with the horror of the sight, expecting every
moment when the three prisoners should be killed; nay, once I
saw one of the villains lift up his arm with a great cutlass, as
the seamen call it. or sword, to strike one of the poor men; and J
expected to see him fall every moment, at which all the blood in
my body seemed to run chill in my veins.
AND THE THOUGHTS IT SUGGESTED. 805

[ wished heartily now for my Spaniard, and the savage that was
gone with him, or that T had any way to have come undiscovered
within shot of them, that [ might have rescued the three men, for
L saw no firearms they had among them; but it fell out to my
mind another way.

Alter [had observed the outrageous usage of the three men by
the insolent seamen, L observed the fellows run scattering about
the land, as if they wanted to see the country. I observed that
the three other men had liberty to go also where they pleased ;
but they sat down all three upon the ground, very pensive, and
looked like men in despair,

This put me in mind of the first time when I came on shore
and began to look about me; how L gave myself over for lost;
how wildly L looked round me; what dreadful apprehensions [
had; and how [lodged in the tree all night for fear of being
devoured by wild beasts.

As T knew nothing that night of the supply L was to receive by
the providential driving of the ship nearer the land by the storms
and tide, by which L have since been so long nourished and sup-
ported; so these three poor desolate men knew nothing how
certain of deliverance and supply they were, how near it was to
them, and how effectually and really they were in a condition of
safety, at the same time that they thought themselves lost, and
their case desperate.

So little do wo see before us in the world, and so much reason
have we to depend cheerfully upon the great Maker of the world,
that he does not leave his creatures so absolutely destitute, but that
in the worst circumstances they have always something to be
thankful for, and sometimes are nearer their deliverance than they
imagine ; nay, are even brought to their deliverance by the means
by which they seem to be brought to their destruction.

It was just at the top of high-water when these people came on
shore, and while partly they stood parleying with the prisoners they
brought, and partly while they rambled about to see what kind
of a place they were in, they had carelessly stayed till the tide was
spent, and the water was ebbed considerably away, leaving their
boat aground.
806 A FORMLDABLE FIGURE,

They had left two men in the boat, who, as T found afterwards
having drunk a little too much brandy, fell asleep; however, one
of them waking sooner than the other, and finding the boat too
fast aground for him to stir it, hallooed for the rest who were
straggling about, upon which they all soon came to the boat; but
it was past all their strength to launch her, the boat being very
heavy, and the shore on that side being a soft oozy sand, almost
like a quicksand

In this condition, like true seamen, who are perhaps the least of
all mankind given to forethought, they gave it over, and away
they strolled about the country again; and T heard one of them
say aloud to another, calling them off from the boat, * Why, let
her alone, Jack, can’t ye; she will float next tide ;”—-by which I
was fully confirmed in the main inquiry of what countrymen they
were.

All this while I kept myself very close, not once daring to stir
out of my castle any further than to my place of observation near
the top of the hill; and very glad T was to think how well it was
fortified. T knew it was no less than ten hours before the boat
could be on float again, and by that time it would be dark, and L
might be at more liberty to see their motions, and to hear their
discourse, if they had any.

In the meantime I fitted myself up fora battle as before; though
with more caution, knowing I had to do with another kind of
enemy than [ had at first. IT ordered Friday also, whom I had
made an excellent marksman with his gun, to load himself with
arms. IT took myself my two fowling-pieces, and | gave him three
muskets. My figure indeed was very fierce: Thad my formidable
goat-skin coat on, with the great cap I have mentioned, a naked
sword by my side, two pistols in my belt, and a gun upon each
shoulder.

It was my design, as I said above, not to have made any attempt
till it was dark; but about two o’clock, being the heat of the day,
T found that in short they were all gone straggling into the woods,
and, as I thought, were laid down to sleep. ‘The three poor dis-
tressed men, too anxious for their condition to get any sleep, were,
however, set down under the shelter of a great tree, at about a
CRUSOE TO THE RESCUE, 307

quarter of a inile from me, and, as [ thought, out of sight of any
of the rest.

Upon this I resolved to discover myself to them, and learn
something of their condition. Immediately I marched in the
figure as above, my man Friday at a good distance behind me, as
formidable for his arms as T, but not making quite so staring a
spectre-like figure as I did.

I came as near them undiscovered as T could, and then, before
any of them saw me, I called aloud to them in Spanish, ‘‘ What are
ye, gentlemen ?”’

They started up at the noise, but were ten times more con-
founded when they saw me, and the uncouth figure that I made.
They made no answer at all, but I thought I perceived them just
going to fly from me, when I spoke to them in English. ‘“ Gentle.
men,” said I, “do not be surprised at me; perhaps you may have
a friend near you when you did not expect it.””—“ He must be
sent directly from heaven then,” said one of them very gravely to
me, and pulling off his hat at the same time to me, “ for our con-
dition is past the help of man.”-—‘ All help is from heaven, sir,”
said T; “ but can you put a stranger in the way how to help you,
for you seem to me to be in some great distress? I saw you when
you landed; and when you seemed to make applications to the
brutes that came with you, I saw one of them lift up his sword to
kill you.”

The poor man, with tears running down his face, and trembling,
looking like one astonished, returned, “ Am I talking to God or
man? Is it a real man or an angel?’’—‘ Be in no fear about
that, sir,” said I; “if God had sent an angel to relieve you, he
would have come better clothed, and armed after another manner
than you see me in. Pray lay aside your fears; I am a man, an
Hnglishman, and disposed to assist you, you see. I have one
servant only; we have arms and ammunition; tell us freely. Can
we serve you? What is your case?”

“Our case,” said he, “sir, is too long to tell you while our
murderers are so near; but in short, sir, I was commander of that
ship; my men have mutinied against me; they have been hardly
prevailed on not to murder me, and at last have set me on shore
308 CRUSOK’S STRATAGEM,

    

“OPMLEY STARTED UP AT TIME NOISK,”

in this desolate place, with these
two men with me; one my mate,
the other a passenger, where we expected to perish, believing the
place to be uninhabited, and know not yet what to think of it.”

“ Where are those brutes, your enemies?” said 1; “do you know
where they are gone ?”—* There they lie, sir,” said he, pointing
toa thicket of trees. “ My heart trembles for fear they have seen
us and heard you speak ; if they have, they will certainly murder
us all,”

* Have they any firearms?” said 1. He answered they had only
CONDITIONS OF ALLIANCE, 809

two pieces, and one which they left in the boat.‘ Well then,”
said I, “leave the rest to me; I see they are all asleep; it is an
easy thing to kill them all; but shall we rather take them
prisoners ?’” He told me there were two desperate villains among
them that it was scarce safe to show any mercy to; but if they
were secured, he believed all the rest would return to their duty.
L asked him which they were. He told me he could not at that
distance describe them ; but he would obey my orders in anything
T would direct. ‘ Well,” says I, “let us retreat out of their view
or hearing, lest they awake, and we will resolve further ;”” so they
willingly went back with me, till the woods covered us from them.

* Look you, sir,” said 1, “if L venture upon your deliverance,
are you willing to make two conditions with me?” He anticipated
my proposals by telling me that both he and the ship, if recovered,
should be wholly directed and commanded by me in everything ;
und if the ship was not recovered, he would live and die with me
in what pare of the world soever LT would send him, and the two
other men said the same.

“Well,” says I) “my conditions are but two. 1, That while
you stay on this island with me you will not pretend to any
authority here; and if L put arms into your hands, you will upon
all occasions give them up to me, and do no prejudice to me or
mine upon this island, and in the mean time be governed by ny
orders.

2. That if the ship is, or may be recovered, you will carry
me and my man to Kngland passage free.”

Ile gave me all the assurances that the invention and faith of
man could devise, that he would comply with these most reasonable
demands, and besides would owe his life to me, and acknowledge
it upon all occasions as long as he lived.

* Well, then,” said I, “here are three muskets for you, with
powder and ball; tell me next what you think is proper to be
done.” He showed all the testimony of his gratitude that he was
able; but offered to be wholly guided by me. I told him I thought
it was hard venturing anything; but the best method I could
think of was to fire upon them at once as they lay; and if any
were not killed ut the first volley, and offered to submit, we might
810 A SPEEDY VICTORY,

save them, and so put it wholly upon God's providence to direct
the shot.

He said very modestly, that he was loath to kill them if he could
help it, but that those two were incorrigible villains, and had been
the authors of all the mutiny in the ship, and if they escaped we
should be undone still; for they would go on board and bring the
whole ship’s company, and destroy us all. ‘ Well then,” says T,
“necessity legitimates my advice, for it is the only way to save our
lives.” However, seeing him still cautious of shedding blood, [
told him they should go themselves, and manage as they found
convenient.

Tn the middle of this discourse we heard some of them awake,
and soon after we saw two of them on their feet. [asked him if
either of them were of the men who he had said were the heads of the
mutiny? Tle said, “No.” “Well then,” said 1, “ you may let them
escape; and Providence seems to have awakened them on purpose
to save themselves. Now,” says 1, “if the rest escape you, it is
your fault.”

Animated with this, he took the musket Thad given him in his
hand, and a pistol in his belt, and his two comrades with him,
with each man a piece in his hand. ‘The two men who were with
him, going first, made some noise, at which one of the seamen who
was awake turned about, and seeing them coming, cried out to
the rest. But it was too late then; for the moment he eried out,
they fired-—-T mean the two men, the captain wisely reserving his
own piece. They had so well aimed their shot at the men they knew,
that one of them was killed on the spot, and the other very much
wounded ; but not being dead, he started up upon his feet, and called
eagerly for help to the other; but the captain, stepping to him,
told him it was too late to ery for help, he should call upon God
to forgive his villany, and with that word knocked him down
with the stock of his musket,so that he never spoke more. There
were three more in the company, and one of them was also slightly
wounded. By this time 1 was come, and when they saw their
danger, and that it was in vain to resist, they begged for merey.
The captain told them he would spare their lives, if they would
give him any assurance of their abhorrenee of the treachery they
CRUSOE’S FORTALICE, 811

had been guilty of, and would swear to be faithful to him in
recovering the ship, and afterwards in carrying her back to
Jamaica, from whence they came. They gave him all the pro-
testations of their sincerity that could be desired, and he was
willing to believe them and spare their lives, which IT was not
against; only I obliged him to keep them bound hand and foot
while they were upon the island.

While this was doing, I sent Friday with the captain’s mate to
the boat, with orders to secure her and bring away the oars and
sail; which they did. And, by-and-by, three straggling men, that
were (happily for them) parted from the rest, came back upon
hearing the guns fired; and seeing their captain, who before was
their prisoner, now their conqueror, they submitted to be bound
uso ; and so our victory was complete.

Tt now remained that the captain and T should inquire into one
another’s circumstances. I began first, and told him my whole
history, which he heard with an attention even to amazement ;
and particularly at the wonderful manner of my being furnished
with provisions and ammunition. And, indeed, as my story is a
whole collection of wonders, it affected him deeply. But when
he reflected from thence upon himself, and how I seemed to have
been preserved there on purpose to save his life, the tears ran
down his face, and he could not speak a word more.

After this communication was at an end I carried him and his
two men into my apartment, leading them in just where I came
out, namely, at the top of the house; where I refreshed them with
such provisions as I had, and showed them all the contrivances I
had made during my long, long inhabiting that place.

All I showed them, all I said to them, was perfectly amazing :
but above all, the captain admired my fortification, and how per-
fectly I had concealed my retreat with a grove of trees, which,
having been now planted near twenty years, and the trees growing
much faster than in Hngland, was become a little wood, and so
thick, that it was unpassable in any part of it but at that one side
where I had reserved my little winding passage into it. I told
him this was my castle and my residence, but that I had a seat in
the country, as most princes have, whither I could retreat upon
312 A COUNCIL OF WAR,

 

“OD CARIED IM AND His TWO MEN INTO MY APAKTMENS.””

occasion, and T would show him that too another time, but at
present our business was to consider how to recover the ship.
IIe agreed with me as to that, but told me he was perfectly at
a loss what measures to take; for that there were still six-and-
twenty hands on board, who, having entered into a cursed con-
spiracy, by which they had all forfeited their lives to the law,
would be hardened in it now by desperation, and would carry it
on, knowing that if they were reduced they should be brought to
the gallows as soon as they came to England, or to any of the
CUTTING OFF THE RETREAT. 318

English colonies ; and that therefore there would be no attacking
them with so small a number as we were.

J mused for some time upon what he said, and found it was «
very rational conclusion; and that therefore something was to be
resolved on very speedily, as well to draw the men on board
into some snare tor their surprise as to prevent their landing upon
us and destroying us. Upon this it presently occurred to me that
in a little while the ship’s crew, wondering what was become of
their comrades and of the boat, would certainly come on shore in
their other boat to seek for them, and that then perhaps they
might come armed, and be too strong for us. This he allowed
was rational,

Upon this I told him the first thing we had to do was to stave
the boat which lay upon the beach, so that they might not carry
her off; and taking everything out of her, leave her so far useless
as not to be fit to swim. Accordingly we went on board, took
the arms which were left on board out of her, and whatever else
we found there, which was a bottle of brandy and another of rum,
a few biscuit cakes, a horn of powder, and a great lump of sugar
in a piece of canvas—the sugar was five or six pounds: all which
was very welcome to me, especially the brandy and sugar, of which
L had had none left for many years.

When we had carried all these things on shore (the oars, mast,
sail, and rudder of the boat, were carried away before, as above),
we knocked a great hole in her bottom, that if they had come
strong enough to master us, yet they could not carry off the boat.

Indeed it was not much in my thoughts that we could be able
to recover the ship; but my view was, that if they went away
without the boat, I did not much question to make her fit again
to carry us away to the Leeward Islands, and call upon our
friends the Spaniards, in my way, for I had them still in my
thoughts.

While we were thus preparing our designs, and had first by
main strength heaved the boat up upon the beach, so high that the
tide would not float her off at high-water mark; and besides, had
broken a hole in her bottom too big to be quickly stopped, and
were sat down musing what we should do; we heard the ship fire
814 BEFORE THE STRUGGLE.

a gun, and saw her make a waft with her ancient, as a signal for
the boat to come on board; but no boat stirred; and they fired
several times, making other signals for the boat.

At last, when all their signals and firings proved fruitless, and
they found the boat did not stir, we saw them, by the help of my
glasses, hoist another boat out, and row towards the shore; and
we found as they approached that there was no less than ten men
in her, and that they had firearms with them.

As the ship lay almost two leagues from the shore, we had a
full view of them as they came, and a plain sight of the men, even
of their faces; because the tide having set them a little to the east
of the other boat, they rowed up under shore to come to the same
place where the other had landed, and where the boat lay.

By this means, I say, we had a full view of them, and the
captain knew the persons and characters of all the men in the
boat, of whom he said that there were three very honest fellows,
who, he was sure, were led into this conspiracy by the rest, being
overpowered and frighted.

But that as for the boatswain, who it seems was the chief
officer among them, and all the rest, they were as outrageous as any
of the ship’s crew, and were no doubt made desperate in their new
enterprise; and terribly apprehensive he was that they would be
too powerful for us.

[smiled at him, and told him that men in our circumstances
were past the operation of fear: that seeing almost every condi-
tion that could be was better than that which we were supposed
to be in, we ought to expect that the consequence, whether death
or life, would be sure to be a deliverance. J asked him what he
thought of the circumstances of my life, and whether a deliverance
were not worth venturing for? ‘“ And where, sir,” said I, “is your
belief of my being preserved here on purpose to save your life,
which elevated you a little while ago? For my part,” said T, ‘“ there
seems to be but one thing amiss in all the prospect of it.” ‘“ What's
that?” says he. ‘ Why,” said I, “’tis that, as you say, there are
three or four honest fellows among them, which should be spared.
Had they been all of the wicked part of the crew, I should have
thought God’s providence had singled them out to deliver them
SECURING THE PRISONERS, 816

into your hands; for, depend upon it, every man of them that
comes ashore are our own, and shall die or live as they behave
to us.”

As I spoke this with a raised voice and cheerful countenance, 1
found it greatly encouraged him; so we set vigorously to our
business. We had upon the first appearance of the boat’s coming
from the ship considered of separating our prisoners, and had
indeed secured them effectually.

Two of them, of whom the captain was less assured than ordi-
nary, [ sent with Friday, and one of the three (delivered men) to
my cave, where they were remote enough, and out of danger of
being heard or discovered, or of finding their way out of the woods
if they could have delivered themselves. Here they left them
bound, but gave them provisions, and promised them if they con-
tinued there quietly, to give them their liberty in a day or two;
but if they attempted their escape, they should be put to death
without mercy. They promised faithfully to bear their confine-
ment with patience, and were very thankful that they had such
good usage as to have provisions and a light left them; for Friday
gave them candles (such as we made ourselves) for their comfort ;
and they did not know but that he stood sentinel over them at
the entrance.

The other prisoners had better usage. Two of them were kept
pinioned indeed, because the captain was not free to trust them,
but the other two were taken into my service upon their captain’s
recommendation, and upon their solemnly engaging to live and
die with us. So with them and the three honest men, we were
seven men, well armed; and I made no doubt we should be able
to deal well enough with the ten that were a-coming, considering
that the captain had said there were three or four honest men
among them also.

As soon as they got to the place where their other boat lay,
they ran their boat into the beach, and came all on shore, hauling
the boat up after them; which I was glad to see, for I was afraid
they would rather have left the boat at an anchor some distance
from the shore, with some hands in her to guard her, and so we
should not be able to seize the boat.
816 THE MUTINEERS’ SURPRISE.

Being on shore, the first thing they did, they ran all to thei
other boat; and it was easy to see that they were under a great
surprise to find her stripped, as above, of all that was in her, and
a great hole in her bottom.

After they had mused a while upon this, they set up two or three
great shouts, hallooing with all their might, to try if they could

make their companions hear; but all was to no purpose. Then

 

“HALLOOLING WITH ALL THEIR MIGHT, TO TRY LF THEY COULD

MAKE THEIR COMPANIONS HEAR,”

they came all close in a ring, and fired a volley of their small arms;
which indeed we heard, and the echoes made the woods ring, but
it was all one; those in the cave, we were sure, could not hear; and
those in our keeping, though they heard it well enough, yet durst
give no answer to them.
A FIRST BOAT-LOAD. 817

They were so astonished at the surprise of this, that, as they
told us alterwards, they resolved to go all on board again to their
ship, and let them know there that the men were all murdered,
and the long-boat staved. Accordingly, they immediately launched
their boat again, and got all of them on board.

The captain was terribly amazed, and even confounded at this.
believing they would go on board the ship again, and set sail,
giving their comrades over for lost, and so he should still lose the
ship, which he was in hopes wo should have recovered. But he
was quickly as much frighted the other way.

Vhey had not been long put off with the boat, but we perceived
them all coming on shore again; but with this new measure in
their conduct, which it seems they consulted together upon—
namely, to leave three men in the boat, and the rest to go on
shore, and go up into the country to look for their fellows.

This was a great disappointment to us; for now we were at a
loss what to do: for our seizing those seven men on shore would
be no advantage to us if we let the boat escape; because they
would then row away to the ship, and then the rest of them would
be sure to weigh and set sail, and so our recovering the ship would
be lost.

However, we had no remedy but to wait and see what the issue
of things might present. The seven men came on shore, and the
three who remained in the boat put her off to a good distance from
the shore, and came to an anchor to wait for them; so that it was
impossible for us to come at them in the boat.

Those that came on shore kept close together, marching towards
the top of the little hill under which my habitation lay; and we
could see them plainly, though they could not perceive us. We
could have ‘been very glad they would have come nearer to us, s0
that we-miglit have fired at them, or that they would have gone
further off, tliat we might have come abroad.

Eut when they were come to the brow of the hill, where they
could see a great way into the valleys and woods which lay towards
the =,orth-east part, and where the island lay lowest, they shouted
ar 4 hallooed till they were weary; and not caring, it seems, to

venture far from the shore, nor far from one another, they sat down
314 AN INGENIOUS DEVICE,

together under a tree to consider of it. Had they thought fit to
have gone to sleep there, as the other party of them had done, they
had done the job for us; but they were too full of apprehensions of
danger to venture to go to sleep, though they could not tell what
the danger was they had to fear neither.

The captain made a very just proposal to me upon this consulta-
tion of theirs, namely, that perhaps they would all fire a volley
again, to endeavour to make their fellows hear, and that we should
all sally upon them just at the juncture when their pieces were all
discharged, and they would certainly yield, and we should have
them without bloodshed. T liked the proposal, provided it was
done while we were near enough to come up to them before they
could load their pieces again,

But this event did not happen, and we lay still a long time very
irresolute what. course to take. At length [ told them there would
be nothing to be done in my opinion till night, and then, if they
did not return to the boat, perhaps we might find a way to get
between them and the shore, and so might use some stratagem
with them in the boat to get them on shore.

We waited a great while, though very impatient for their re-
moving ; and were v very uneasy when, after long consultations, we
saw them start all up and march down toward the sea. It seems
they had such dreadful apprehensions upon them of the danger of
the place, that they resolved to go on board the ship again, give
their companions over for lost, and so go ou with their intended
voyage with the ship.

As soon as I perceived them go toward the shore, 1 imagined it
to be, as it really was, that they had given over their search, and
were for going back again; and the captain, as soon as I told him
my thoughts, was ready to sink at the apprehensions of it; but I
presently thought of a stratagem to fetch them back again, and
which answered my end to a tittle.

T ordered Friday and the captain’s mate to go over the little
creek westward, towards the place where the savages came on shore
when Friday was rescued; and as soon as they came to a little
rising ground, at about half a mile distance, I bade them halloo
a8 loud as they could, and wait till they found the seamen heard
CATCHING A TARTAR. 819

them ; that as soon as ever they heard the seamen answer them
they should return it again; and then, keeping out of sight, take a
round, always answering when the other hallooed, to draw them
as far into the island, and among the woods, as possible; and then
wheel about again to me by such ways as I directed them.

They were just going into the boat when Friday and the mate
hallooed ; and they presently heard them, and answering, ran along
the shore westward, towards the voice they heard, when they were
presently stopped by the creek, where the water being up, they
could not get over, and called for the boat to come up and set them
over, as indeed I expected.

When they had set themselves over, I observed that the boat,
being gone up a good way into the creek, and, as it were, in a
harbour within the land, they took one of the three men out of
her to go along with them, and left only two in the boat, having
fastened her to the stump of a little tree on the shore.

This was what I wished for, and immediately leaving Friday
and the captain’s mate to their business, I took the rest with me,
and crossing the creek out of their sight, we surprised the two men
before they were aware; one of them lying on shore, and the
other being in the boat. The fellow on shore was between sleep-
ing and waking, and going to start up, the captain, who was fore-
most, ran in upon him, and knocked him down, and then called out
to him in the boat to yield, or he was a dead man.

There needed very few arguments to persuade a single man to
yield when he saw five men upon him, and his comrade knocked
down; besides, this was, it seems, one of the three who were not
so hearty in the mutiny as the rest of the crew, and therefore was
easily persuaded not only to yield, but afterwards to join very
sincerely with us.

In the meantime Friday and the captain’s mate so well managed
their business with the rest, that they drew them, by hallooing
and answering, from one hill to another, and from one wood to
another, till they not only heartily tired them, but left them where
they were very sure they could not reach back to the boat before
it was dark; and indeed they were heartily tired themselves also

by the time they came back to us.
23a) 21
820 WALKING INTO THE TRAP.

We had nothing now to do but to watch for them in the dark,
and to fall upon them, so as to make sure work with them.

It was several hours after Friday came back to me before they
came back to their boat; and we could hear the foremost of them
long before they came quite up, calling to those behind to come
along; and could also hear them answer and complain how lame
and tired they were, and not able to come any faster—which was
very welcome news to us.

At length they came up to the boat; but ’tis impossible to ex-
press their confusion when they found the boat fast aground in the
creek, the tide ebbed out, and their two men gone! We could
hear them call to one another in a most lamentable manner, telling
one another they were gotten into an enchanted island: that either
there were inhabitants in it, and they should all be murdered; or
else there were devils and spirits in it, and they should be all carried
away, and devoured.

They hallooed again, and called their two comrades by their
names a great many times; but no answer. After some time we
could see them, by the little light there was, run about wringing
their hands like mon in despair; and that sometimes they would
go and sit down in the boat to rest themselves, then come ashore
again and walk about again, and so the same thing over again.

My men would fain have me give them leave to fall upon them
at once in the dark; but I was willing to take them at some
advantage, so to spare them, and kill as few of them as I could;
and especially I was unwilling to hazard the killing any of our own
men, knowing the other were very: well armed. I resolved to wait
to see if they did not separate; and therefore to make sure of
them, I drew my ambuscade nearer, and ordered Friday and the
captain to creep upon their hands and feet as close to the ground
an they could, that they might not be discovered, and get as near
them as they could possibly, before they offered to fire.

They had not been long in that posture but that the boatswain,
who waa.the principal ringleader of the mutiny, and had now
shown himself the most dejected and dispirited of all the rest, came
walking towards them with two more of their crew. The captain
was 80 eager, as. having this principal rogue so much in his power,
A COLLOQUY IN THE DARK. 22)

that he could hardly have patience to let him come so near as to
be sure of him; for they only heard his tongue before. But when
they came nearer, the captain and Friday starting up on their feet,
let tly at them.

The boatswain was killed upon the spot, the next man was shot
into the body, and fell just by him, though he did not die till an
hour or two after; and the third ran for it.

At the noise of the fire I immediately advanced with my whole
umy, which was now eight men, namely, myself generalissimo,
Friday my lieutenant-general, the captain and his two men, and
the three prisoners of war, whom we had trusted with arms.

We came upon them indeed in the dark, so that they could not
see our number; and I made the man we had left in the boat, who
was now one of us, call to them by name, to try if I could bring
them toa parley, and so might perhaps reduce them to terms;
which fell out just as we desired. For indeed it was easy to think,
as their condition then was, they would be very willing to capitu-
late. So he calls out as loud as he could to one of them, ‘Tom
Sinith, Tom Smith.” Tom Smith answered immediately, “ Who's
that, Robinson?” for it seems he knew his voice. ‘The other an-
swered, “ Ay, ay; for God’s sake, ‘Tom Smith, throw down your
arms and yield, or you are all dead men this moment.”

‘Who must we yield to? where are they?” says Smith again.
‘Here they are,” says he; “here’s our captain, and fifty men with
him, have been hunting you this two hours; the boatswain is
killed, Will Frye is wounded, and I am a prisoner; and if you do
not yield, you are all lost.”

“ Will they give us quarter, then,” says Tom Smith, “and we
will yield?” ‘Tl go and ask, if you promise to yield,” says
Robinson. So he asked the captain, and the captain then calls
himself out, “‘ You, Smith, you know my voice, if you lay down
your arms immediately and submit, you shall have your lives—all
but Will Atkins.”

Upon this Will Atkins cried out, “‘ For God’s sake, captain, give
me quarter; what have I done? They have been all as bad as I;”
—which, by the way, was not true neither; for it seems this Will
Atkins was the first man that laid hold of the captain when they
$22 THE CAPTAIN AND HIS MEN,

first mutinied, and used him barbarously, in tying his hands, and
giving him injurious language, However, the captain told him he
must lay down his arms at discretion, and trust to the governor’s
mercy; by which he meant me, for they all called me governor,

In a word, they all laid down their arms, and begged their
lives; and I sent the man that had parleyed with them, and two
more, who bound them all; and then my great army of fifty men,
which particularly with those three, were all but eight, came up
and seized upon them all, and upon their boat—only that I kept
myself and one more out of sight, for reasons of state.

Our next work was to repair the boat, and think of seizing the
ship; and as for the captain, now he had leisure to parley with
them, he expostulated with them upon the villany of their prac-
tices with him, and at length upon the further wickedness of their
design, and how certainly it must bring them to misery and dis-
tress in the‘tnd, and perhaps to the gallows.

They all appeared very penitent, and begged hard for their
lives, As for that, he told them, they were none of his prisoners, but
the commander of the island ; that they thought they had set him
on shore in a barren uninhabited island, but it had pleased God so
to direct them, that the island was inhabited, and that the governor
was an Englishman: that he might hang them all there if he
pleased; but as he had given them all quarter, he supposed he
would send them to England to be dealt with there, as justice re-
quired—except Atkins, whom he was commanded by the governor
to advise to prepare for death, for that he would be hanged in
the morning.

Though this was all a fiction of his own, yet it had its desired
effect. Atkins fell upon his knees to beg the captain to intercede
with the governor for his life; and all the rest begged of him for
Cod’s sake that they might not be sent to England.

It now occurred to me that the time of our deliverance was
come, and that it would be a most easy thing to bring these fellows
in to be hearty in getting possession of the ship; so I retired in
the dark from them, that they might not seo what kind of a
governor they had, and called the captain tome. When I called,
as at a good distance, one of the men was ordered to speak again.
SUBMISSION OF THE MU'TINEERS. 828

and say to the captain, “

maptain, the commander calls for you.”
And presently the captain replied, “‘l'ell his excellency T am just
u-coming.” ‘This more perfectly amused thein; and they all be-
lieved that the commander was just by with his fifty men.

Upon the captain’s coming to me I told him my project for
seizing the ship, which he liked of wonderfully well, and resolved
to put it in execution the next morning.

But in order to execute it with more art, and secure of success, |
told him we must divide the prisoners, and that he should go and
take Atkins and two more of the worst of them, and send them
pinioned to the cave where the others lay. ‘This was committed
to Friday and the two men who came on shore with the captain.

They conveyed them to the cave, as to a prison; and it was in-
deed a dismal place, especially to men in their condition,

‘The other I ordered to my bower, as I called it, of which I
have given a full description; and as it was fenced in, and they
pinioned, the place was secure enough, considering they were upon
their behaviour.

To these in the morning I sent. the captain, who was to enter
into a parley with them; in a word, to try them, and tell me
whether he thought they might be trusted or no to go on board
and surprise the ship. He talked to them of the injury done him,
of the condition they were brought to; and that though the
governor had given them quarter for their lives as to the present
action, yet that if they were sent to England they would all be
hanged in chains, to be sure; but that if they would join in so
Just an attempt as to rec&ver the ship, he would have the governor's
engagement for their pardon.

Any one may guess how readily such a proposal would be
accepted by men in their condition. They fell down on their
knees to the captain, and promised, with the deepest imprecations,
that they would be faithful to him to the last drop, and that they
should owe their lives to him, and would go with him all over the
world; that they would own him for a father to them as long as
they lived.

“Well,” says the captain, “I must go and tell the governor what
you say, and see what [ can do to bring him to consent to it.” 8a
824 CRUSOE AS GOVERNOR.

he brought me an account of the temper he found them in, and
that he verily believed they would be faithful.

However, that we might be very secure, I told him he should
go back again, and choose out five of them, and tell them they
might see that he did not want men, that he would take out five
of them to be his assistants, and that the governor would keep the
other two, and the three that were sent prisoners to the castle (my
cave) as hostages, for the fidelity of those five; and that if they
proved unfaithful in the execution, the five hostages should be
hanged in chains alive upon the shore.

This looked severe, and convinced them that the governor was
in earnest. However, they had no way left them but to accept it;
and it was now the business of the prisoners, as much as of the
captain, to persuade the other five to do their duty.

Our strength was now thus ordered for the expedition: 1. The
eaptain, his-mate, and passenger; 2. Then the two prisoners of
the first gang, to whom, having their characters from the captain,
I had given their liberty, and trusted them with arms; 8. The
other two whom I had kept till now in my apartment pinioned, but
upon the captain’s motion had now released; 4. These five released
ut last: so that they were twelve in all, besides five we kept
prisoners in the cave for hostages.

I asked the captain if he was willing to venture with these hands
on board the ship; for as for me and my man Friday, I did not
think it was proper for us to stir, having seven men left behind,
and it was employment enough for us to keep them asunder and
supply them with victuals. .

As to the five in the cave, I resolved to keep them fast, but
Friday went in twice a day to them to supply them with neces-
saries; and I made the other two carry provisions to a certain
distance, where Friday was to take it.

When I showed myself to the two hostages, it was with the
captain, who told them I was the person the governor had ordered
to look after them, and that it was the governor’s pleasure they
should not stir anywhere but by my direction; that if they did,
they should be fetched into the castle and be laid in irons. So
that as we never suffered them to see me as governor, so I now
RECOVERING TILE SHIP. 325

 

   

“AS TO THE FIVE IN THE CAVE, T RESOLVRD TO KEEP THEM PAST.”

appeared as another person, and spoke of the governor, the garrison,
the castle, and the like, upon all occasions.

The captain now had no difficulty before him but to furnish his
two boats, stop the breach of one, and man them. Tle made his
passenger captain of one, with four other men; and himself, and
is mate and six more, went in the other. And they contrived
their business very well, for they came up to the ship about mid-
night. As soon as they came within call of the ship, he made
Robinson hail them, and tell them they had brought off the men
and the boat, but that it was a long time before they had found
them, and the like, holding them in a chat till they came to the
ship's side; when the captain and the mate, entering first with
their arms, immediately knocked down the second mate and car-
penter avith the butt-end of their muskets. Being very faithfully
seconded by their men, they secured all the rest that were upon
the main and quarter-decks, and began to fasten the hatches to
keep them down who were below, when the other boat and their
mien, entering at the fore-chains, secured the fore-castle of the ship,
and the scuttle which went down into the cook-room, making
three men they found there prisoners.
326 A ‘GLORIOUS VICTORY !”

 

“TIERY CAME UP TO THE SUIP ABOUT MIDPNrantr,”

When this was done, and all safe upon deck, the captain
ordered the mate with three men to break into the round-house
where the new rebel captain lay, and having taken the alarm, was
gotten up, and with two men and a boy had gotten firearms in
their hands ; and when the mate with a crow split open the door,
the new captain and his men fired boldly among them, and wounded
the mate with a musket ball, which broke his arm, and wounded
two more of the men, but killed nobody.

The mate, calling for help, rushed however into the round-house,
wounded as he was, and with his pistol shot the new captain through
the head, the bullet entering at his mouth and came out again
behind one of his ears, so that he never spoke a word; upon which
the rest yielded, and the ship was taken effectually, without any
more lives lost.

As soon as the ship was thus secured, the captain ordered seven
OVERCOME WITH EXCESS OF JOY. 327

‘guns to be fired, which was the signal agreed upon with me to give
me notice of his success; which, you may be sure, I was very glad
to hear, having sat watching upon the shore for it till near two of
the clock in the morning.

Having thus heard the signal plainly, L laid me down; and it
having been a day of great fatigue to me, I slept very sound, till
I was something surprised with the noise of a gun; and presently
starting up, I heard a man call me by the name of “ Governor,
governor; ” and presently I knew the captain’s voice, when climbing
up to the top of the lll, there he stood, and pointing to the ship
he embraced me in his arms. “ My dear friend and deliverer,” says
he, “ there’s your ship; for she is all yours, and so are we and all
that belong to her.” I cast my eyes to the ship, and there she
rode within little more than half a mile of the shore; fur they had
weighed her anchor as soon as they were masters of her, and the
weather being fair, had brought her to an anchor just against the
mouth of the little ereek; and the tide being up, the captain had
brought the pinnace in near the place where I at first landed my
rafts, and so landed just at my door.

I was at first ready to sink down with the surprise; for I saw
iny deliverance indeed visibly put into my hands, all things casy,
and a large ship just ready to carry me away whither I pleased to
go. At first, for some time, I was not able to answer him one
word; but as he had taken me in his arms I held fast by him, or
T should have fallen to the ground.

He perceived the surprise, and immediately pulls a bottle out of
his pocket, and gave me a dram of cordial, which he had brought
on purpose for me. After I had drunk it, I sat down upon the
ground; and though it brought me to myself, yet it was a good
while before I could speak a word to him.

All this while the poor man was in as great an ecstasy as I, only
not under any surprise, as I was; and he said a thousand kind
tender things to me, to compose me and bring me to myself; but
such was the flood of joy in my breast, that it put all my spirits
into confusion. At last it broke out into tears, and in a little while
after, I recovered my speech.

Then T took my turn, and embraced him as my deliverer, and
828 TH CAPTAIN'S PRESENT,

we rejoiced together, L told him [looked upon him as a man sent
from Heaven to deliver me, and that the whole transaction seemed
to be a chain of wonders; that such things as these were the testi-
monies we had of a secret hand of Providence governing the world,
and an evidence that the eyes of an Infinite Power could search
info the remotest corner of the world, and send help to the miser-
able whenever he pleased.

T forgot not to lift up my heart in thankfulness to Heaven: and
what heart could forbear to bless him, who had not only in a
miraculous manner provided for one in such a wilderness, and in
such a desolate condition, but from whom every deliverance must
always be acknowledged to proceed 7

When he had talked a while, the captain told me he had brought
me some litle refreshment, such as the ship afforded, and such as
the wretches that had been so long his masters had not plundered
him of. Upon this, he called aloud to the boat, and bid his men
bring the things ashore that were for the governor; and indeed it
was a present, as if [had been one not that was to be carried away
along with them, but as if [ had been to dwell upon the island
still, and they were to go without me.

Wirst he had brought mea case of bottles full of excellent cordial
waters, six large bottles of Madeira wine (the bottles held two
quarts apiece), two pounds of excellent good tobacco, twelve good
pieces of the ship's beef, and six pieces of pork, with a bag of
pease, and about a hundredweight of biscuit.

Le brought me also a box of sugar, a box of flour, a bag full of
lemons, and two bottles of lime-juice, and abundance of other
things. But besides these, and what was a thousand times more
useful to me, he brought me six clean new shirts, six very good
neckcloths, two pair of gloves, one pair of shoes, a hat, and one
pair of stockings, and a very good suit of clothes of his own, which
had been worn but very little. In a word, he clothed me from
head to foot.

It was a very kind and agreeable present, as any one may
imagine, to one in my circumstances. But never was anything in
the world of that kind so unpleasant, awkward, and uneasy, as it
was to me to wear such clothes at their first putting on.
CRUSOE AND THE MUTINEERS, 829

After these ceremonies past, and after all his good things were
brought into my little apartment, we began to consult what was
to be done with the prisoners we had; for it was worth considering
whether we might venture to take them away with us or no, espe-
cially two of them, whom we knew to be incorrigible and refractory
to the last degree; and the captain said, he knew they were such
rogues that there was no obliging them, and if he did carry them
away it must be in irons as malefactors to be delivered over to
justice at the first Mnglish colony he could come at. And I found
that the captain himself was very anxious about it.

Upon this, [told him that if he desired it I durst undertake to
bring the two men he spoke of to make it their own request that
he should leave them upon the island. ‘I should be very glad of
that,” says the captain, “with all my heart.”

“Well,” says 1, “Twill send for them up, and talk with them for
you.” So [caused Friday and the two hostages—for they were
now discharged, their comrades having performed their promise ;
Lsay, [caused them to go to the cave, and bring up the five men,
pimioned as they were, to the bower, and keep them there till I
came,

After some time I came thither dressed in my new habit ; and
now I was called governor again, Being all met, and the captain
with me, I caused the men to be brought before me; and I told
them Thad had a full account of their villanous behaviour to the
captain, and how they had run away with the ship, and were pre-
paring to commit further robberies, but that Providence had en-
snared them in their own ways, and that they were fallen into the
pit which they had digged for others.

I let them know that by my direction the ship had been seized,
that she lay now in the road; and they might see by-and-by that
their new captain had received the reward of his villany, for that
they might see him hanging at the yard-arm.

That as to them, I wanted to know what they had to say why
[ should not execute them as pirates taken in the fact, as by my
commission they could not doubt I had authority to do.

One of them answered in the name of the rest, that they had
nothing to say but this, that when they were taken the captain
330 THEY ARE SKY AT LIBERTY.

promised them their lives; and they humbly implored my merey,
But I told them I knew not what merey to show them; for as fo1
myself I had resolved to quit the island with all my men, and had
taken passage with the captain to go for England; and as for
the captain he could not carry them to England other than as
prisoners in irons to be tried for mutiny and running away with
the ship, the consequence of which, they must needs know, would
b2 the gallows: so that I could not tell which was best for them,
unless they had a mind to take their fate in the island. Tf they
desired that (I did not care, as I had liberty to leave it), I had
some inclination to give them their lives, if they thought they
could shift on shore.

They seemed very thankful for it, said they would much rather
venture to stay there than to be carried to England to be hanged.
So T left it on that issue.

However, the captain seemed to inake some difficulty of it, as if
he durst not leave them there. Upon this I seemed a little angry
with the captain, and told him that they were my prisoners, not
his; and that seeing I had offered them so much favour, T would
be as good as my word; and that if he did not think fit to consent
to it, I would set them at liberty as I found them, and if he did
not like it, he might take them again if he could catch them.

Upon this they appeared very thankful, and I accordingly set
them at liberty, and bade them retire into the woods to the place
whence they came, and I would leave them some firearms, some
unmunition, and some directions how they should live very well,
if they thought fit.

Upon this I prepared to go on board the ship, but told the cap-
tain that I would stay that night to prepare my things, and desired
him to go on board in the meantime and keep all right in the ship,
and send the boat on shore the next day for me; ordering him in
the meantime to cause the new captain, who was killed, to be
hanged at the yard-arm that these men might see him.

When the captain was gone, I sent for the men up to me to my
apartment, and entered seriously into discourse with them of their
circumstances. I told them I thought they had made a right
choice; that if the captain carried them away, they would certainly
COLONIZING THE ISLAND. 331

be hanged. I showed them the new captain hanging at the yard
arm of the ship, and told them they had nothing less to expect.

When they had all declared their willingness to stay, I then told
them I would let them into the story of my living there, and put
them into the way of making it easy to them. Accordingly I
gave them the whole history of the place and of my coming to it ;
showed them my fortifications, the way I made my bread, planted
my corn, cured my grapes; and in a word, all that was necessary
to make them easy. I told them the story also of the sixteen
Spaniards that were to be expected; for whom I left a letter, and
made them promise to treat them in common with themselves.

I left them my firearms, namely, five muskets, three fowling-
pieces, and three swords. I had above a barrel and half of powder
left ; for after the first year or two I used but little and wasted
none. I gave them a description of the way I managed the goats,
and directions to milk and fatten them, and to make both butter
and cheese.

In a word, I gave them every part of my own story. And I
told them I would prevail with the captain to leave them two
barrels of gunpowder more, and some garden-seeds, which I told
them I would have been very glad of; also I gave them the bag
of pease which the captain had brought me to-eat, and bade them
be sure to sow and increase them.

Having done all this I left them the next day, and went on
board the ship. We prepared immediately to sail, but did not
weigh that night. The next morning early two of the five men
came swimming to the ship’s side, and making a most lamentable
complaint of the other three, begged to be taken into the ship, for
God’s sake, for they should be murdered, and begged the captain
to take them on board though he hanged them immediately.

Upon this the captain pretended to have no power without me.
But after some difficulty, and after their solemn promises of amenid-
ment, they were taken on board, and were some time after soundly
whipped and pickled ; after which they proved very honest and
quiet fellows. i‘

Some time after this the boat was ordered on shore, the tide
being up, with the things promised to the men; to which the
BR2 CRUSOEK’S RETURN TO ENGLAND,

captain, at my intercession, caused their chests and clothes to he
added; which they took, and were very thankful for. I also en-
couraged them, by telling them that if it lay in my way to send
any vessel to take them in, I would not forget them.

When I took leave of this island I carried on board for relics
the great goat-skin cap I had made, my umbrella, and my parrot;
also I forgot not to take the money I formerly mentioned, which
had Jain by me so long useless that it was grown rusty, or tar-
nished, and could hardly pass for silver till it had been a little
rubbed and handled; as also the money I found in the wreck of
the Spanish ship.

    
 

zine’
: Sh Ny ND “dius I eit the island the 19th of December,
as I found by the ship’s account, in the year
: 1686, after T had been upon it eight and twenty
years, two months, and nineteen days; being
delivered from this second captivity the same
day of the month that I first made my escape in
the Barco Longo from among the Moorsof Sallee.

In this vessel, after a long voyage, I arrived in England the
11th of June, in the year 1687, having been thirty and five years
absent.

When T came to Hngland, I was as perfect a stranger to all the
world as if I had never been known there. My benefactor and
faithful steward, whom I had left in trust with my money, was alive,
but had had great misfortunes in the world; was become a widow
the second time, and very low in the world. I made her easy as
to what she owed me, assuring her I would give her no trouble;
but on the contrary, in gratitude to her former care and faithful-
ness to me, I relieved her as my little stock would afford, which
at that time would indeed allow me to do but little for her; but 1
assured her I would never forgot her former kindness to me: nor
A VISIT TO LISBON. 388

did I forget her when I had sufficient to help her, as shall be
observed in its place.

T went down afterwards into Yorkshire, but my father was dead,
and my mother and all the family extinct, except that I found two
sisters and two of the children of one of my brothers; and as I
had been Jong ago given over for dead, there had been no provision
made for me: so that, in a word, I found nothing to relieve or
assist me; and that little money I had would not do much for me
as to settling in the world.

I met with one piece of gratitude, indeed, which I did not
expect; and this was, that the master of the ship, whom I had so
happily delivered, and by the same means saved the ship and
cargo, having given a very handsome account to the owners of the
manner how I had saved the lives of the men, and the ship, they
invited me to meet them and some other merchants concerned, and
all together made me a very handsome compliment upon the sub-
ject, and a present of almost two hundred pounds sterling.

But after making several reflections upon the circumstances of
my life, and how little way this would go towards settling me in
the world, I resolved to go to Lisbon, and see if I might not come
by some information of the state of my plantation in the Brazils,
and of what was become of my partner, who I had reason to sup-
pose had some years now given me over for dead.

With this view I took shipping for Lisbon, where I arrived in
April following, my man Friday accompanying me very honestly
in all these ramblings, and proving a most faithful servant upon
all occasions.

When I came to Lisbon I found out by inquiry, and to my
particular satisfaction, my old friend, the captain of the ship who
first took me up at sea off the shore of Africa. He was now grown
old, and had left off the sea, having put his son, who was far from
a young man, into his ship, and who still used the Brazil trade.
The old man did not know me, and indeed I hardly knew him ;
but I soon brought him to my remembrance, and as soon brought
myself to his remembrance when I told him who I was.

After some passionate expressions of the old acquaintance, J
inquired, you may be sure, after my plantation and my partner.
334 A BRAZILIAN PLANTATION.

Mhe old man told me he had not been in the Brazils for about
nine years; but that he could assure me that when he came away
my partner was living, but the trustees whom [had joined with him
to take cognizance of my part were both dead. That, however,
he believed that ] would have avery good account of the improve-
ment of the plantation: for that, upon the general belief of my
being cast away and drowned, my trustees had given in the account
of the produce of my part of the plantation to the procurator-fiscal,
who had appropriated it, in case T never came to claim it; one
third to the King, and two thirds to the monastery of St. Augus-
tine, to be expended for the benefit of the poor, and for the con-
version of the Indians to the Catholic faith ; but that if T appeared,
or any one for me, to claim the inheritance, it should be restored,
only that the improvement or annual production being distributed
to charitable uses, could not be restored. But he assured me
that the steward of the King’s revenue (from lands) and the pro-
viedore, or steward of the monastery, had taken great care all
along that the incumbent, that is to say, my partner, gave every
year a faithful account of the produce, of which they received duly
my moiety.

Lasked him if he knew to what height of improvement he had
brought the plantation; and whether he thought it might be
worth looking after? or whether, on my going thither, T should
meet with no obstruction to my possessing my just right in the
moiety ?

He told me he could not tell exactly to what degree the planta-
tion was improved, but this he knew, that my partner was grown
exceeding rich upon the enjoying but one half of it; and that, to
the best of his remembrance, he had heard that the King’s third
of my part, which was, it seems, granted away to some other
monastery or religious house, amounted to above two hundred
moidores a year: that as to my being restored to a quiet posses-
sion of it, there was no question to be made of that, my partner
being alive to witness my title, and my name being also enrolled
in the register of the country. Also, he told me that the sur-
vivors of my two trustees were very fair, honest people, and very
wealthy ; and he believed T would not only have their assistance
AN HONOURABLE FRIEND. 885

for putting me in possession, but would find a very considerable
sum of money in their hands for my account; being the produce
of the farm while their fathers held the trust, and before it was
given up as above, which, as he remembered, was for about twelve
years,

I showed myself a little concerned and uneasy at this account,
and inquired of the old captain how it came to pass that the
trustees should thus dispose of my effects when he knew that T
had made my will, and had made him, the Portuguese captain,
my universal heir, Ge.

Tle told me that was true; but that, as there was no proof of
my being dead, he could not act as executor until some certain
account should come of my death, and that, besides, he was not
willing to intermeddle with a thing so remote; that it was true
he had registered my will, and put in his claim; and could he
have given any account of my being dead or alive, he would have
acted by procuration, and taken possession of the engento (so they
called the sugar-house), and had given his son, who was now at
the Brazils, order to do it.

“But,” says the old man, ‘T have one piece of news to tell
you, which perhaps may not be so acceptable to you as the rest,
and that is, that believing you were lost, and all the world be-
lieving so also, your partner and trustees did offer to account to
me in your name for six or eight of the first years of profits, which
I received; but there being at that time,” says he, “ great disburse-
ments for increasing the works, building an 7ngenzo, and buying
slaves, it did not amount to near so much as afterwards it produced.
However,” says the old man, “I shall give you a true account of
what I have received in all, and how I have disposed of it.”

After a few days’ further conference with this ancient friend, he
brought me an account of the six first years’ income of my planta-
tion, signed hy my partner and the merchants’ trustees, being
always delivered in goods, namely, tobacco in roll, and sugar in
chests, besides rum, molasses, &c., which is the consequence of a
sugar work; and I found by his account that every year the in-
come considerably increased, but, as above, the disbursement being

large, the sum at first was small. However, the old man let me
(284) a
886 HONESTY AND ITS REWARD.

wee that he was debtor to me 470 moidores of gold, besides 60
chests of sugar, and 15 double rolls of tobacco, which were lost in
his ship; he having been shipwrecked coming home to Lisbon
about eleven years after my leaving the place.

The good man then began to complain of his misfortunes, and
how he had been obliged to make use of my money to recover his
losses, and buy him a share in a new ship. ‘ However, my old
friend,” says he, “ you shall not want a supply in your necessity;
and as soon as my son returns, you shall be fully satisfied.”

Upon this he pulls out an old pouch, and gives me 160 Portugal
moidores in gold; and giving me the writing of his title to the
ship which his son was gone to the Brazils in, of which he was a
quarter part owner and his son another, he puts them both into
my hands for security of the rest.

T was too much moved with the honesty and kindness of the
poor man to be able to bear this; and remembering what he had
done for me, how he had taken me up at sea, and how generously he
had used me on all occasions, and particularly how sincere a friend
he was now to me, I could hardly refrain weeping at what he said
tome. Therefore first I asked him if his circumstances admitted
him to spare so much money at that time, and if it would not
straiten him? He told me he could not say but it might straiten
him a little; but, however, it was my money, and I might want
it more than he.

Everything the good man said was full of affection, and I could
hardly refrain from tears while he spoke. In short, 1 took an hundred
of the moidores, and called for a pen and ink to give him a receipt
for them; then I returned him the rest, and told him if ever I had
possession of the plantation, I would return the other to him also,
as indeed I afterwards did: and that as to the bill of sale of his
part in his son’s ship, I would not take it by any means; but that if
I wanted the money, I found he was honest enough to pay me; and
if I did not, but came to receive what he gave me reason to expect,
I would never have a penny more from him.

When this was past, the old man began to ask me if he should
put me into a method to make my claim to my plantation? I
told him 1 thought to go over to it myself. We said I might do
CRUSOF’S ITEMS OF PROPERTY, 83)

so if 1 pleased, but that if I did not, there were ways enough to
secure my right, and immediately to appropriate the profits to my
use, And as there were ships in the river of Lisbon just ready to
go away to Brazil, he made me enter my name in a public register
with his affidavit, affirming upon oath that I was alive, and that I
was the same person who took up the land for the planting the
said plantation at first.

This being regularly attested by a notary, and a procuration
aflixed, he directed me to send it with a letter of his writing to a
merchant of his acquaintance at the place, and then proposed imy
staying with him till an account came of the return,

Never anything was more honourable than the proceedings
upon this procuration ; for in less than seven months L received a
large packet from the survivors of my trustees the merchants, for
whose account Lwent to sea, in which were the following particular
letters and papers enclosed.

first, There was the account current of the produce of my farm
or plantation from the year when their fathers had balanced with
my old Portugal captain, being for six years. ‘The balance ap-
peared to be 1174 moidores in my favour.

Secondly, There was the account of four years more while they
kept the etfects in their hands, before the Government claimed the
administration, as being the effects of a person not to be found,
which they call civil death; and the balance of this, the value of
the plantation increasing, amounted to 88,892 cruisadoes, which
made 8241 moidores.

Lhirdly, There was the Prior of the Augustine’s account, who
had received the profits for above fourteen years; but not being to
account for what was disposed to the hospital, very honestly de-
clared he had 872 moidores not distributed, which he acknowledged
to my aecount; as to the King’s part, that refunded nothing.

There was a letter of my partner’s, congratulating me very affec-
tionately upon my being alive; giving me an account how the
estate was improved, and what it produced a year, with a particular
of the number of squares or acres that it contained, how planted,
how many slaves there were upon it; and making two and twenty
crosses for blessings, told me he had said so many Ave Marias to
338 ‘AFTER MANY DAYS.”

thank the Blessed Virgin that I was alive; inviting me very
passionately to come over and take possession of my own, and in
the meantime to give him orders to whom he should deliver my
effects if I did not come myself; concluding with a hearty tender
of his friendship and that of his family, and sent me as a present
seven fine leopards’ skins, which he had, it seems, received from
Africa by some other ship which he had sent thither, and who, it
seems, had made a better voyage than I. He sent me also five
chests of excellent sweetmeats, and an hundred pieces of gold un-
coined, not quite so large as moidores.

By the same fleet my two merchant trustees shipped me 1200
chests of sugar, 800 rolls of tobacco, and the rest of the whole
account in gold.

T might well say now, indeed, that the latter end of Job was
better than the beginning. It is impossible to express the flutter-
ings of my very heart when I looked over these letters, and espe-
cially when I found all my wealth about me. For as the Brazil
ships come all in fleets, the same ships which brought my letters
brought my goods, and the effects were safe in the river before the
letters came to my hand. In a word, I turned pale, and grew
sick; and had not the old man run and fetched me a cordial,
I believe the sudden surprise of joy had overset nature and I had
died upon the spot.

Nay, after that I continued very ill, and was so some hours, till a
physician being sent for, and something of the real cause of my
illness being known, he ordered me to be let blood, after which IT
had relief, and grew well; but I verily believe if it had not been
eased by a vent given in that manner to the spirits, I should have
died. 2

I was now master, all on a sudden, of above £5000 sterling in
money; and had an estate, as I might well call it, in the Brazils of
above £1000 a-year, as sure as an estate of lands in England. And
in a word, I was in a condition which I scarce knew how to un-
derstand, or how to compose myself for the enjoyment of it.

The first thing I did was to recompense my original benefactor,
my good old captain, who had been first charitable to me in my
distress, kind to me in my beginning, and honest to me at the end.
WHAT NEXT, AND NEXT? 889

I showed him all that was sent to me; I told him that next to the
providence of Heaven, which disposes all things, it was owing to
him ; and that it now lay on me to reward him, which I would do
a hundredfold. So I first returned to him the 100 moidores
Thad received of him, then I sent for a notary, and caused him to
draw up a general release or discharge for the 470 moidores which
he had acknowledged he owed me, in the fullest and firmest manner
possible: after which I caused a procuration to be drawn empower-
ing him to be my receiver of the annual profits of my plantation,
and appointing my partner to account to him, and make the
returns by the usual fleets to him in my name; and a clause in
the end, being a grant of 100 moidores a year to him during his
life out of the effects, and 50 moidores a year to his son after him
for his life. And thus I requited my old man.

T was now to consider which way to steer my course next, and
what to do with the estate that Providence had thus put into my
hands: and indeed I had more care upon my head now than I had
in my silent state of life in the island, where I wanted nothing but
what I had, and had nothing but what T wanted ; whereas I had
now a great charge upon me, and my business was how to secure
it. I had never a cave now to hide my money in, nor a place
where it might lie without lock or key until it grew mouldy and
tarnished before anybody would meddle with it. On the contrary,
I knew not where to put it, or whom to trust with it. My old
patron the captain, indeed, was honest, and that was the only
refuge I had.

In the next place, my interest in the Brazils seemed to summon
me thither; but now I could not tell how to think of going
thither until I had settled my affairs, and left my effects in some
safe hands behind me. At first I thought of my old friend the
widow, who I knew was honest, and would be just to me; but
then she was in years, and but poor, and for aught I knew might
be in debt. So that, in a word, I had no way but to go back to
England myself, and take my effects with me.

It was some months, however, before I resolved upon this; and
therefore, as I had rewarded the old captain fully and to his satis-
faction, who had been my former benefactor, so I began to think
840 HE WOULD NOT BE A PAPIST.

of my poor widow whose husband had been my first benefactor,
and she while it was in her power my faithful steward and
instructor, So the first thing [ did, L got a merchant in Lisbon
to write to his correspondent in London, not only to pay a bill,
but to go find her out, and carry her in money an hundred pounds
from me, and to talk with her, and comfort her in her poverty by
telling her she should, if I lived, have a further supply. At the
sume time T sent my two sisters in the country each of them an
hundred pounds, they being, though not in want, yet not in very
good circumstances ; one having been married and left a widow,
and the other having a husband not so kind to her as he should be.
But among all my relations or acquaintances I could not yet pitch
upon one to whom T durst commit the gross of my stock, that I
might go away to the Brazils and leave things safe behind me ;
and this greatly perplexed me,

I had once a mind to have gone to the Brazils, and have settled
myself there, for [ was, as it were, naturalized to the place; but I
had some little seruple in my mind about religion, which insensibly
drew me back, of which [shall say more presently. However, it
was not religion that kept me from going there for the present :
and as T had made no scruple of being openly of the religion of
the country all the while T was among them, so neither did I yet;
only that now and then having of late thought more of it (than
formerly) when L began to think of living and dying among them,
I began to regret my having professed myself a Papist, and thought
it might not be the best religion to die with.

But, as T have said, this was not the main thing that kept me
from going to the Brazils; but that really I did not know with
whom to leave my effects behind me. So I resolved at last to go
to Kngland with it; where, if I arrived, I concluded I should
make some acquaintance, or find some relations that would be
faithful to me. And accordingly I prepared to go for England with
all my wealth.

In order to prepare things for my going home, I first, the
Brazil fleet being just: going away, resolved to give answers suit-
able to the just and faithful account of things I had from thence
And, first, to the prior of St. Augustine I wrote a letter full of
HOMEWARD BOUND. 841

thanks for their just dealings, and the offer of the 872 moidores
which was undisposed of ; which I desired might be given, 500 to
the monastery, and 372 to the poor as the prior should direct,
desiring the good padre’s prayers for me, and the like. I wrote
next a letter of thanks to my two trustees, with all the acknowledg-
ment that so much justice and honesty called for. As for sending
them any present, they were far above having any occasion of it.
Lastly, [ wrote to my partner, acknowledging his industry in the
improving the plantation, and his integrity in increasing the stock
of the works ; giving him instructions for his future government
of my part, according to the powers [ had left with my old patron,
to whom [ desired him to send whatever became due to me until
he should hear from me more particularly; assuring him that it
Was my intention, not only to come to him, but to settle myself
there for the remainder of my life. To this I added a very
handsome present of some Italian silks for his wife and two
daughters, for such the captain’s son informed me he had; with
two pieces of fine English broadcloth, the best I could get in
Lisbon, five pieces of black baize, and sume Flanders lace of a good
value,

Having thus settled my affairs, sold my cargo, and turned all
my effects into good bills of exchange, my next difficulty was
which way to go to England. I had been accustomed enough to
the sea, and yet I had a strange aversion to going to England by
sea at that time; and though I could give no reason for it, yet the
difficulties increased upon me so much that though I had once
shipped my baggage in order to go, yet I altered my mind, and
that not once, but two or three times.

It is true, I had been very unfortunate by sea, and this might
be some of the reason; but let no man slight the strong impulses
of his own thoughts in cases of such moment. Two of the ships
which I had singled out to go in; I mean, more particularly
singled out than any other, that is to say, so as in one of them to
put my things on board, and in the other to have agreed with the
captain; I say, two of these ships miscarried, namely, one was
taken by the Algerines, and the other was cast away on the Start
uear Torbay, and all the people drowned except three: so that in
842 A LAND EXPEDITION,

either of those vessels I had been made miserable; and in which
most it was hard to say.

Having been thus harassed in my thoughts, my old pilot, to
whom I communicated everything, pressed me earnestly not to go
by sea, but either to go by land to the Groyne, and cross over the
Bay of Biscay to Rochelle, from whence it was but an easy and
safe journey by land to Paris, and so to Calais and Dover; or to
go up to Madrid, and so all the way by land through France. Tn
a word, T was so prepossessed against my going by sea at all,
except from Calais to Dover, that T resolved to travel all the way
by land; which, as T was not in haste and did not value the charge,
was by much the pleasanter way. And to make it more so, my
old captain brought an Mnglish gentleman, the son of a merchant
in Lisbon, who was willing to travel with me; after which we
picked up two more English merchants also, and two young Portu-
guese gentlemen, the Jast going to Paris only; so that we were in
nll six of us; and five servants: the two merchants and the two
Portuguese contenting themselves with one servant between two
to save the charge; and as for me, IT got an English sailor to
travel with me as a servant, besides my man Friday, who was too
much a stranger to be capable of supplying the place of a servant
on the road.

In this manner T set out from Lisbon; and our company being
all very well mounted and armed, we made a little troop whereof

 

“WE MADE A LITTLE TROOP, WHEREOF THEY DIb MK THE HONOUR
TO CALL ME CAPTAIN,”

they did me the honour to call me captain, as well because I was
the oldest man as because I had two servants, and indeed was the
original of the whole journey.

As | have troubled you with none of my sea journals, so I shall
TRAVELLING IN SPAIN, 848

trouble you now with none of my land journal. But some adven-
tures that happened to us in this tedious and difficult journey 1
must not omit.

When we came to Madrid, we being all of us strangers to Spain,
were willing to stay some time to see the court of Spain, and to
see what was worth observing ; but it being the latter part of the
suminer we hastened away, and set out from Madrid about the
middle of October. But when we came to the edge of Navarre,
we were alarmed at several towns on the way with an account that
so much snow was fallen on the French side of the mountains that
several travellers were obliged to come back to Pampeluna, after
having attempted at an extreme hazard to pass on.

When we came to Pampeluna itself we found it so indeed ; and
to me that had been always used to a hot climate, and indeed tu
countries where we could scarce bear any clothes on, the cold was
insufferable. Nor, indeed, was it more painful than it was sur-
prising to come but ten days before out of the Old Castile, where
the weather was not only warm but very hot, and immediately to
_fecl a wind from the Pyrenean mountains so very keen, so severely
cold, as to be intolerable, and to endanger benumbing and _perish-
ing of our fingers and toes. Poor Friday was really frightened
when he saw the mountains all covered with snow and felt cold
weather, which he had never seen or felt before in his life.

To mend the matter, when we came to Pampeluna it continued
snowing with so much violence and so long that the people said
winter was come before its time: and the roads, which were difli-
cult before, were now quite impassable ; for, in a word, the snow
lay in some places too thick for us to travel, and being not hard
frozen, as is the case in northern countries, there was no going
without being in danger of being buried alive every step. We
stayed no less than twenty days at Pampeluna; when, seeing the
winter coming on, and no likelihood of its being better, for it was
the severest winter all over Europe that had been known in the
memory of man, I proposed that we should all go away to Font-
arabia, and there take shipping for Bordeaux, which was a very
little voyage.

But while we were considering this, there came in four French
B44 CROSSING 'THS PYRENEES,

gentlemen, who, having been stopped onthe French side of the passes
as we were on the Spanish, had found out a guide who, traversing
the country near the head of Languedoc, had brought them over
the mountains by such ways that they were not much incommoded
with the snow; and where they met with snow in any quantity,
they said it was frozen hard enough to bear them and their horses,
We sent for this guide, who told us he would undertake to carry
us the same way with no hazard from the snow, provided we were
armed stulliciently to protect us from wild beasts; for he said upon
these great snows it was frequent for some wolves to show them-
selves at the foot of the mountains, being made ravenous for want
of food, the ground being covered with snow. We told him we
were well enough prepared for such creatures as they were, if he
would insure us from a kind of two-legged wolves, which we were
told we were in most danger from, especially on the French side of
the mountains. Tle satisfied us there was no danger of that kind
in the way that we were to go: so we readily agreed to follow
him; as did also twelve other gentlemen with their servants,
some French, some Spanish, who, as [ said, had attempted to go,
and were obliged to come back again.

Accordingly, we all set out from) Pampeluna with our guide, on
the 15th of November. And indeed [ was surprised when,
instead of going forward, he came directly back with us, on the
sume road that we came from Madrid, above twenty miles ; when,
being past two rivers, and come into the plain country, we found
ourselves in a warm climate again, where the country was pleasant
and no snow to be seen. But on a sudden, turning to his left, he
approached the mountains another way; and though, it is true,
the hills and precipices looked dreadful, yet he made so many
tours, such meanders, and led us by such winding ways, that we
were insensibly past the height of the mountains without being
much encumbered with the snow. And all on a sudden he showed
us the pleasant, fruitful provinces of Languedoc and Gascony, all
green and flourishing ; though, indeed, it was at a great distance,
and we had some rough way to pass yet.

We were a little uneasy, however, when we found it snowed one
whole day and a night so fast that we could not travel; but he
FRIDAY AND 'THE WOLF. 846

bade us be easy, we should soon be past it all. We found, indeed,
that we began to descend every day, and to come more north than
before ; nd so, depending upon our guide, we went on,

Tt was about two hours before night, when, our guide being
something before us and not just in sight, out rushed three mon-
strous wolves, and after them a bear, out of a hollow way adjoining
to a thick wood. ‘Two of the wolves flew upon the guide; and
had he been half a mile before us he had been devoured indeed
before we could have helped him. One of them fastened upon his
horse; and the other attacked the man with such violence that he
had not time or not presence of mind enough to draw his pistol,
but hallooed and cried out to us most lustily. My man Friday
being next to me, I bade him ride up and see what was the matter.
As soon as Friday came in sight of the man, he hallooed as loud
as the other, “Oh master! oh master!” but, like a bold fellow,
rode directly up to the poor man, and with his pistol shot the wolf
that attacked him into the head.

It was happy for the poor man that it was my man Friday; for
he having been used to that kind of creature in his country, had no
fear upon him, but went close up to him, and shot him as above:
whereas any of us would have fired at a further distance, and have
perhaps either mnissed the wolf or endangered shooting the man.

But it was enough to have terrified a bolder man than I, and
indeed it alarmed all our company, when with the noise of Friday’s
pistol we heard on both sides the dismallest howling of wolves,
and the noise redoubled by the echo of the mountains, that it was
to us as if there had been a prodigious multitude of them : and
perhaps indeed there was not such a few as that we had no cause
of apprehensions.

Ifowever, as Friday had killed this wolf, the other that had
fastened upon the horse left him unmediately, and fled; having
happily fastened upon his head, where the bosses of the bridle had
stuck in his teeth, so that he had not done him much hut. The
man, indeed, was most hurt; for the raging creature had bit him
twice, once on the arm, and the other time a little above his
knee; and he was just as it were tumbling down by the disorder
of his horse, when Friday came up and shot the wolf.
346 A BEAR'S CHARACTER,

It is casy to suppose that at the noise of Friday's pistol we all
mended our pace, and rode up as fast as the way, which was very
difficult, would give us leave, to see what was the matter, As
soon as we came clear of the trees, which blinded us before, we
saw clearly what had been the case, and how Friday had disengaged
the poor guide, though we did not presently discern what kind of
creature it was he had killed.

But never was a fight managed so hardily and in such a surprising
manner as that which followed between Friday and the bear, which
eave us all (though at first we were surprised and afraid for him)
the greatest diversion imaginable. As the bear is a heavy, clumsy
creature, and does not gallop as the wolf does, which is swift and
light, so he has two particular qualities, which generally are the
rule of his actions. First, as to men, who are not his proper
prey; | say, not his proper prey, because, though T cannot say
what exc

 

ssive hunger might do, which was now their case, the
ground being all covered with snow; but as to men, he does not
usually attempt them unless they first attack him, On the con-
trary, if you meet him in the woods, if you don’t meddle with him
he won't meddle with you. But then you must take care to be
very civil to him, and give him the road; for he is a very nice
gentleman, he won’t go a step out of his way for a prince. Nay,
if you are really afraid, your best way is to look another way, and
keep going on; for sometimes if you stop and stand still, and look
steadily at him, he takes it for an affront. But if you throw or
toss anything at him, and it hits him, though it were but a bit of
astick as big as your finger, he takes it for an affront, and sets all
his other business aside to pursue his revenge ; for he will have
satisfaction in point of honour. That is his first quality. The
next is, that if he be once affronted, he will never leave you night
or day till he has his revenge, but follows at a good round rate till
he overtakes you.

My man Friday had delivered our guide, and when we came up
to him he was helping him off from his horse—for the man was
both hurt and frighted, and indeed the last more than the first—
when, on the sudden, we spied the bear come out of the wood. And
a vast, monstrous one it was, the biggest by far that ever I saw
FRIDAY’S PERFORMANCE, 347

We were all a little surprised, when we saw him; but when Friday
saw him, it was easy to see joy and courage in the fellow’s counte-
nance. “Oh! oh! oh!” says Friday, three times, pointing to
him ; “oh, master! you give me te leave; me shakee te hand
with him; me make you good laugh,”

I was surprised to see the fellow so pleased. “You fool you.”
says T, “he will eat you up!” “ Hatee me up! eatee me up!”
says Friday, twice over again; ‘me eatee him up; me make you
good Taugh. You all stay here; me show you good laugh.” So
down he sits, and gets his boots off in a moment, and puts on a
pair of pumps (as we call the flat shoes they wear, and which he
had in his pocket), gives my other servant his horse, and with his
eun away he flew swift like the wind.

The bear was walking softly on, and offered to meddle with
nobody, till Friday, coming pretty near, calls to him, as if the bear
could understand him. “ Tark ye! hark ye!” says Friday; “me
speakee wit you.” We followed at a distance; for now, being
come down on the Gascony side of the mountains, we were entered
a vast great forest, where the country was plain and pretty open,
though many trees in it scattered here and there.

Friday, who had, as we say, the heels of the bear, came up with
him quickly, and takes up a great stone and throws at him, and
hit him just on the head, but did him no more harm than if he
had thrown it against a wall. But it answered Friday’s end; for
the rogue was so void of fear that he did it purely to make the
bear follow him, and show us some laugh, as he called it. As
soon as the bear felt the stone and saw him, he turns about and
comes after him, taking devilish long strides, and shuffling along
at a strange rate, so as would have put a horse to a middling
gallop. Away runs Friday, and takes his course as if he ran
towards us for help. So we all resolved to fire at once upon the
bear, and deliver my man; though I was angry at him heartily
for bringing the bear back upon us when he was going about his
own business another way. And especially I was angry that he
had turned the bear upon us and then run away; and I called
out: “ You dog,” said I, “is this your making us laugh? Come
away, and take your horse, that we may shoot the creature.” He
848 UP IN A TREF.

hears me, and cries out, “No shoot! no shoot! Stand still; von
get much laugh.” And as the nimble creature ran two feet for
the beast’s one, he turned on a sudden on one side of us, and seeing
a great oak-tree fit for his purpose, he beckoned to us to follow ;
and doubling his pace, he gets nimbly up the tree, laying his gun
down upon the ground at about five or six yards from the bottom
of the tree.

The bear soon came to the tree, and we followed at a distance.
The first thing he did he stopped at the gun, smelt it, but let it
lie; and up he scrambles into the tree, climbing like a cat, though
so monstrously heavy. I was amazed at the folly, as I thought it,
of my man, and could not for my life see anything to laugh at yet,
till seeing the bear get up the tree, we all rode nearer to him.

When we came to the tree, there was Friday got out to the small
end of a large limb of the tree, and the bear got about half-way
to him. As soon as the bear got out to that part where the
limb of the tree was weaker, “ Ha,” says he to us, “now you see
me teachee the bear dance.” So he falls a jumping and shaking
the bough, at which the bear began to totter, but stood still, and
began to look behind him to see how he should get back; then,
indeed, we did laugh heartily. But Friday had not done with
him by a great deal. When he sees him stand still, he calls out to
him again, as if he had supposed the bear could speak English,
“What! you no come further? Pray you come further.” So he
left jumping and shaking the tree; and the bear, just as if he had
understood what he said, did come a little further; then he fell a
jumping again, and the bear stopped again.

We thought now was a good time to knock him on the head,
and I called to Friday to stand still and we would shoot the bear.
But he cried out earnestly, ““O pray! O pray! no shoot; me
shoot by and then.” He would have said by-and-by. However,
to shorten the story, Friday danced so much, and the bear stood
so ticklish, that we had laughing enough indeed, but still could
not imagine what the fellow would do: for first we thought he
depended upon shaking the bear off; and we found the bear was
too cunning for that too, for he would not go out far enough to
be thrown down, but clings fast with his great broad claws and
A DANCING BEAR. 349

 

 

 

“so HWE FALLS A JUMPING AND SHAKING THE LouaH,”

feet, so that we could not imagine what would be the end of it,
and where the jest would be at last.

But Friday put us out of doubt quickly; for seeing the bear
cling fast to the bough, and that lhe would not be persuaded to
come any further, “ Well, well,” says Friday, ‘you no come
further, me go, me go; you no come to me, me go come to you.”
And upon this he goes out to the smallest end of the bough, where
it would bend with his weight, and gently lets himself down by it,
sliding down the bough, till he came near enough to jump down
on his feet, and away he ran to his gun, takes it up, and stands
still.

“Well,” said I to him, “ Friday, what will you do now?) Why
don’t you shoot him?” ‘No shoot,” says Ividay, ‘no yet; me
shoot now, me no kill; me stay, give you one more laugh.” And
indeed so he did, as you will see presently: for when the bear sees
his enemy gone, he comes back from the bough where he stood ;
but did it mighty leisurely, looking behind him every step, and
850 A DANGEROUS PASS.

coming backward till he got into the body of the tree. Then with
the same hinder end foremost, he comes down the tree, grasping it
with his claws, and moving one foot at a time, very leisurely. At
this juncture, and just before he could set his hind feet upon the
ground, Friday stepped up close to him, clapped the muzzle of his
piece into his ear, and shot him dead as a stone.

Then the rogue turned about to see if we did not laugh, and
when he saw we were pleased by our looks, he falls a laughing
himself very loud. “ So we kill bear in my country,” says Friday.
“ So you kill them!” says I. ‘Why, you have no guns.” “ No,”
says he; “no gun, but shoot, great much long arrow.

This was indeed a good diversion to us; but we were still in a
wild place, and our guide very much hurt, and what to do we
hardly knew. The howling of wolves ran much in my head; and
indeed, except the noise I once heard on the shore of Africa, of
which I have said something already, I never heard anything that
filled me with so much horror.

These things and the approach of night called us off, or else, as
Friday would have had us, we should certainly have taken the
skin of this monstrous creature off, which was worth saving; but
we had three leagues to go, and our guide hastencd us, so we left
him, and went forward on our journey.

The ground was still covered with snow, though not so deep
and dangerous as on the mountains; and the ravenous creatures,
as we heard afterwards, were come down to the forest and plain
country, pressed by hunger to seek for food; and had done a great
deal of mischief in the villages, where they surprised the country
people, killed a great many of their sheep and horses, and some
people too.

We had one dangerous place to pass, which our guide told us,
if there were any more wolves in the country, we should find them
there; and this was in a small plain surrounded with woods on
every side, and a long narrow defile- or lane, which we were to
pass to get through the wood, and then we should come to the
village where we were to lodge.

It was within half an hour of sunset when we entered the first
wood, and a little after sunset when we came into the plain. We
ATTACKED BY WOLVES, 851

met with nothing in the first wood except that in a little plain
within the wood, which was not above two furlongs over, we saw
five great wolves cross the road, full speed one after another, as if
they had been in chase of some prey, and had it in view. ‘They
took no notice of us, and were gone, and out of our sight in a few
moments.

Upon this our guide, who, by the way, was a wretched, faint-
hearted fellow, bid us keep in a ready posture, for he believed there
were more wolves a coming,

We kept our arms ready, and our eyes about us; but we saw
no more wolves till we came through that wood, which was near
half a league, and entered the plain. As soon as we came into
the plain we had occasion enough to look about us. The first
object we met with was a dead horse—that is to say, a poor horse
which the wolves had killed—and at least a dozen of them at
work, we could not say eating of him, but picking of his bones
rather, for they had eaten up all the flesh before.

We did not think fit to disturb them at their feast; neither
did they take much notice of us. Friday would have let fly at
them, but I would not suffer him by any means; for I found we
were like to have more business upon our hands than we were
aware of. We were not gone half over the plain but we began to
hear the wolves howl in the wood on our left in a frightful
manner; and presently after we saw about a hundred coming on
directly towards us, all in a body, and most of them in a line as
regularly as an army drawn up by experienced officers. I scarce
knew in what manner to receive them; but found to draw our-
selves in a close line was the only way; so we formed in a moment.
But that we might not have too much interval, I ordered that
only every other man should fire, and that the others who had not
fired should stand ready to give them a second volley immediately
if they continued to advance upon us; and that then those who
had fired at first should not pretend to load their fusees again, but
stand ready with every one a pistol, for we were all armed with a
fusee and a pair of pistols each man; so we were by this method
able to fire six volleys, half of us at a time. However, at present

we had no necessity; for upon firing the first volley the enemy
(294 23
$62 ANOTHER ATTACK,

made a full stop, being terrified as well.with the noise as with the
fire. Four of them being shot into the head dropped, several others
were wounded, and went bleeding off, as we could see by the snow,
I found they stopped, but did not immediately retreat; whereupon
remenibering that I had been told that the fiercest crentures wera
terrified at the voice of a man, I caused all our company to halloo
as loud as we could; and I found the notion not altogether
mistaken, for upon our shout they began to retire and turn
about. Then I ordered a second volley to be fired {n their rear,
which put them to the gallop, and away they went to the
woods.

This gave us leisure to charge our pieces again, and that we
might lose no time, we kept going; but we had but little more
than loaded our fusces, and put ourselves into a readiness, when
we heard a terrible noise in the same wood on our left, only that
it was further onward the same way we were to go.

The night was coming on, and the light began to be dusky,
which made it worse on our side; but the noise incrensing, te could
easily perceive that it was the howling and yelling of those hellish
creatures; and on a sudden we perceived two ot three troops of
wolves, one on our left, one behind us, and one on our front; so
that we seemed to be surrounded with them. However, as they
did not fall upon us, we kept our way forward as fast as we could
make our horses go, which, the way being very rough, was only a
good large trot; and in this manner we came in view of the
entrance of a wood through which we were to pass at the further
side of the plain; but we were greatly surprised when, coming
nearer the lane ot pass, we Baw a confused numbet of wolves stand-
ing just at the entrance.

On a sudden, at another opening of the wood, we heard the
noise of a gun; and looking that way, out rushed a horse with a
saddle and a bridle on him, flying like the wind, atid sixteen or
seventeen wolves after him, full speed; indeed, the horsé had
the heels of them, but as we supposed that he could not hold it
at that rate, we doubted not but they would get up with him at
last, and no question but they did.

But here we had a most hortible sight; for riding up to the
AND A DESPERATE ENGAGEMENT, 858

entrance where the horse came out, we found the carcass of another
horse, and of two men, devoured by the ravenous creatures; and one
of the men was no doubt the same whom we heard fire the gun,
for there lay a gun just by him fired off; but as to the man, his
head and the upper part of his body was eaten up.

This filled us with horror, and we knew not what course to
take; but the creatures resolved us soon, for they gathered about
us presently in hopes of prey; and I verily believe there were three
hundred of them. Tt happened very much to our advantage that
at the entrance into the wood, but a little way from it, there lay
some large timber trees, which had been cut down the summer
before, and T suppose lay there for carriage. I drew my little troop

 

“THEY CAME WITH A GROWLING KIND OF NOISE, AND MOUNTED
THE TIMBER.”

in among those trees, and placing ourselves in a line behind one
long tree, [advised them all to light, and keeping that tree before
us for a breastwork, to stand in a triangle, or three fronts, enclos-
ing our horses in the centre.

We did so, and it was well we did; for never was a more
furious charge than the creatures made upon us in the place.
They came on us with a growling kind of a noise, and mounted
the piece of timber, which, as [ said, was our breastwork,
as if they were only rushing npon their prey; and this fury of
theirs, it seems, was principally occasioned by their seeing our
horses behind us, which was the prey they aimed at. I ordered
our men to fire as before, every other man: and they took their
Bh4 DEFEAT OF THE WOLVES,

aim so sure, that indeed they killed several of the wolves at the
first volley ; but there was a necessity to keep a continual firing,
for they came on like devils, those behind pushing on those
before.

When we had fired our second volley of our fusees, we thought
they stopped a little, and T hoped they would have gone off; but
it was but a moment, for others came forward again : so we fired
two volleys of our pistols, and T believe in these four firings we
had killed seventeen or eighteen of them, and Jamed_ tivice as
many; yet they came on again.

1 was loath to spend our last shot too hastily; so T called my
servant——not my man Friday, for he was better employed ; for,
with the greatest dexterity imaginable, he had charged my fusee
and his own while we were engaged; but, as T said, T ealled my
other man, and giving him a horn of powder, | bade him lay a
train all along the piece of timber, and let it be a large train. He
did so, and had just time to get away when the wolves came up
to it, and some were got up upon it; when T, snapping an un-
charged pistol, close to the powder, set it on fire. Those that were
upon the timber were scorched with it, and six or seven of them fell,
or rather jumped in among us, with the force and fright of the
fire. We despatched these in an instant, and the rest. were so
frighted with the light, which the night, for it was now very near
dark, made more terrible, that they drew back a little.

Upon which T ordered our last pistol to be fired off in one
volley, and after that we gave a shout. Upon this the wolves
turned tail, and we sallied immediately upon near twenty lame
ones, which we found struggling on the ground, and fell a cutting
them with our swords; which answered our expectation, for the
erying and howling they made was better understood by their
fellows, so that they all fled and left us.

We had, first and last, killed about threeseore of them; and
had it been daylight, we had killed many more. The field of
battle being thus cleared, we made forward again; for we had still
near a league to go. We heard the ravenous creatures howl and
yell in the woods, as we went, several times, and sometimes we
fancied we saw some of them; but the snow dazzling our eyes, we
WUAT WAS SAID AT TOULOUSE. 856

wero not certain: so in about an hour we came to the town where
we were to lodge, which we found in a terrible fright, and all in
urms; for it seems that, the night before, the wolves and some
bears had broken into the village in the night, and put them in a
terrible fright, and they were obliged to keep guard night and
day, but especially in the night, to preserve their cattle, and
indeed their people

‘The next morning our guide was so ill, and his limbs swelled
with the rankling of his two wounds, that he could go uo further ;
so we were obliged to take a new guide there, and go to Toulouse,
where we found a warm climate, a fruitful, pleasant country, and
ny snow, no wolves, nor anything like them. But when we told our
story at ‘Toulouse, they told us it was nothing but what was
ordinary in the great forest at the foot of the mountains, especially
when the snow lay on the ground. But they inquired much what
kind of a guide we had gotten that would venture to bring us
that way in such a severe season; and told us it was very much
we were not all devoured. When we told them how we placed
ourselves, and the horses in the middle, they blamed us exceed-
ingly, and told us it was fifty to one but we had been all destroyed:
for it was the sight of the horses which made the wolves so furious,
seeing their prey; and that at other times they are really afraid
of a gun; but the being excessive hungry, and raging on that
account, the eagerness to come at the horses had made them sense-
less of danger; and that if we had not by the continued fire, and
at last by the stratagem of the train of powder, mastered them, it
had been great odds but that we had been torn to pieces; whereas
had we been content to have sat still on horseback, and fired as
horsemen, they would not have taken the horses for so much their
own, when men were on their backs, as otherwise: and withal
they told, that at last, if we had stood all together, and left our
horses, they would have been su eager to have devoured them, that
we might have come olf safe, especially having our firearms in our
hands, and being so many in number.

For my part, I was never so sensible of danger in my life; for
seeing above three hundred devils come roaring and open-mouthed
to devour us, and having nothing to shelter us or retreat to, I gave
356 CRUSOE AND THE WIDOW,

myself over for lost; and as it was, I believe I shall never care tc
cross those mountains again. I think I would much rather go a
thousand leagues by sea, though I were sure to meet with a storm
once a week.

I have nothing uncommon to take notice of in my passage
through France, nothing but what other travellers have given an
account of with much more advantage than I can. I travelled
from Toulouse to Paris, and, without any considerable stay, came
to Calais, and landed safe at Dover, the 14th of January, after
having had a severe cold season to travel in.

I was now come to the centre of my travels, and had in a little
time all my new discovered estate safe about me, the bills of
exchange which I brought with me haying been very currently
paid.

My principal guide and privy counsellor was my goud ancicnt
widow, who, in gratitude for the money I had sent her, thought
no pains too much or care too great to employ for me; and 1]
trusted her so entirely with everything that I was perfectly easy as
to the security of my effects; and indeed I was very happy from
my beginning, and now to the end, in the unspotted integrity of
this good gentlewoman.

And now I began to think of leaving my effects with this
woman, and setting out for Lisbon, and so to the Brazils. But
now another scruple came in my way, and that was religion: for
as I had entertained some doubts about the Roman religion, even
while I was abroad, especially in my state of solitude, so I knew
there was no going to the Brazils for me, much less going to settle
there, unless I resolved to embrace the Roman Catholic religion
without any reserve; unless, on the other hand, I resolved to be a
sacrifice to my principles, be a martyr for religion, and die in the
Inquisition. So I resolved to stay at home, and if I could find
means for it, to dispose of my plantation.

To this purpose I wrote to my old friend at Lisbon; who in re-
turn gave me notice that he could easily dispose of it there, but
that if I thought fit to give him leave to offer it in my name to
the two merchants, the survivors of my trustees, who lived in the
Brazils, who must fully understand the value of it, who lived jus‘
- SEVEN YEARS OF REPOSE. 3517

upon the spot, and who I knew were very rich, so that he believed
they would be fond of buying it, he did not doubt but I should
make 4000 or 5000 pieces of eight the more of it.

Accordingly I agreed, gave him order to offer it to them, and
he did so; and in about eight months more, the ship being then
returned, he sent me an account that they had accepted the
offer, and had remitted 33,000 pieces of eight to a correspondent
of theirs at Lisbon to pay for it.

Jn return, I signed the instrument of sale in the form which
they sent from Lisbon, and sent it to my old man, who sent me
bills of exchange for 32,800 pieces of eight to me for the estate;
reserving the payment of 100 moidores a year to him, the old man,
during his life, and 50 moidores afterwards to his son for his life,
which I had promised them, which the plantation was to make
good as a rent-charge. And thus I have given the first part of a
life of fortune and adventure, a life of Providence’s checker-work,
and of a variety which the world will seldom be able to show the
like of. Beginning foolishly, but closing much more happily than
any part of it ever gave me leave so much as to hope for.

Any one would think that in this state of complicated good
fortune I was past running any more hazards; and so indeed I had
been, if other circumstances had concurred; but I was inured to a
wandering life, had no family, not many relations, nor, however
rich, had I contracted much acquaintance; and though I had sold
my estate in the Brazils, yet I could not keep the country out of
my head, and had a great mind to be upon the wing again; espe-
cially I could not resist the strong inclination I had to see my
island, and to know if the poor Spaniards were in being there, and
how the rogues I left there had used them.

My true friend the widow earnestly dissuaded me from it, and so
far prevailed with me that for almost seven years she prevented my
running abroad; during which time I took my two nephews, the
children of one of my brothers, into my care. The eldest having
something of his own, I bred up as a gentleman, and gave him a
settlement of some addition to his estate after my decease. ‘The
other I put out to a captain of a ship; and after five years, finding
hin a sensible, bold, enterprising young fellow, I put him into a
858 A VISIT 'TO 'THE ISLAND, ‘

good ship, and sent him to sea, And this young fellow afterwarda
drew me in, as old as T was, to further adventures myself,

In the meantime, T in part settled myself here; for, first of all,
T married, and that not either to my disadvantage or Sinkatiatooton,
and had three children, two sons and one daughter. But my wife
dying, and my nephew coming home with good success from a
voyage to Spain, my inclination to go abroad and his Importunity
prevailed, and engaged me to go in his ship as a private trader to
the Kast Indies. This was in the year 169-4.

In this voyage I visited my new colony in the island, saw
my successors the Spaniards, had the whole stor y of their lives,
and of the villains T left there; how at first they insulted the
poor Spaniards; how they afterwards avreed, disagreed, united,
separated ; and how at last the Spaniards were obliged to use
violence with them ; how they were subjected to the Spaniards ;
how honestly the Spaniards used them: a history, if it were
entered into, as full of variety and wonderful accidents as my own
part, particularly also as to their battles with the Caribbeans, who
landed several times upon the ishind; and as to the i Mnprovement
they made upon the island itself; and how five of them made an
attempt upon the mainland, and BeotahE away eleven men and five
women prisoners, by which, at my coming, T found about twenty
young children on the island.

Here T stayed about twenty days, left them supplies of all
necessary things, and particularly of arms, powder, shot, clothes,
tools, and two workmen, which T brought from Kngland with
me; namely, a carpenter and a smith,

Besides this, T shared the island into parts with them, reserved
to myself the property of the whole, but gave them such parts re-
spectively as they agreed on; and having settled all things with
them, and engaged them not to leave the place, T left them there.

From thence 1 touched at the Brazils, from whence T sent a
bark, which T bought there, with more people to the island; and
in it, besides other supplies, I sent seven w omen, being such as T
found proper for service, or for wives to such as would take them.
As to the Nnglishmen, T promised them to send them some women
from England, with a good cargo of necessaries, if they would
END OF A FIRST PART, 869

apply themselves to planting; which | afterwards performed, And
the fellows proved very honest and diligent after they were
mastered, and had their properties set apart for them. IT sent
them also from the Brazils five cows, three of them being big with
calf, some sheep, and some hogs; which, when T came again, were
considerably increased.

But all these things, with an account how three hundred Carib-
bees came and invaded them, and ruined their plantations, and how
they fought with that whole number twice, and were at first de-
feated and three of them killed; but at last a storm destroying
their enemy’s canoes, they famiahed or destroyed almost all the
rest, and renewed and recovered the possession of their plantation,
and still lived upon the island :

All these things, with some very surprising incidents in some
new adventures of my own, for ten years more, Timay perhaps give
a further account of hereafter,

 
 
THE
Further Adventures

Or

ROBINSON CRUSOE.

In brave pursuit of honourable deed,
SPENSER.

PART THE ECON 1D
 
   

England, namely, ‘That what is bred in the bone
will not go out of the flesh,’ was never more veri-
\\ fied than in the story of my life. Any one would
| think that after thirty-five years’ affliction and a
‘ variety of unhappy circumstances, which few men,
if any, ever went through before, and after near
seven years of peace and enjoyment in the fulness

* ~ of all things, grown old, and when, if ever, it
might be allowed me to have had experience of every state of
middle life, and to know which was most adapted to make a man
completely happy: I say, after all this, any one would have thought
that the native propensity to rambling, which I gave an account of
in my first setting out into the world to have been so predominant
in my thoughts, should be worn out, the volatile part be fully
evacuated, or at least condensed, and I might at sixty-one years
of age have been a little inclined to stay at home, and have done
venturing life and fortune any more.

Nay, further, the common motive of foreign adventures was taken
away in me; for I had no fortune to make, I had nothing to seek,
If I had gained ten thousand pound, I had been no richer; for I had
already sufficient for me, and for those I had to leave it to: and that
30-4 ARK THERE ANY GHOSTS ?

L had was visibly increasing; for having no great family, T could
not spend the income of what Thad, unless T would set up for an
expensive way of living, such as a great family, servants, equipace,
gaiety, and the like, which were things Thad no notion of, or ineli-
nation toy so that Thad nothing indeed to do but to sit still, and
fully enjoy what [had got, and sco it increase daily upon my hands.

Yet all these things had no effect upon me, or at Teast not
enough to resist the strong inclination T had to go abroad again,
which hung about me like a chronical distemper ; particularly, the
desire of seeiig my new plantation in the island, and the colony T
let there, ran in my head continually, T-dreamed of it all night,
and my imagination ran upon it all day; it was uppermost in all
my thoughts, and my faney worked so steadily and strongly upon
it, that T talked of it in my sleep. In short, nothing could remove
it out of my mind; it even broke so violently into all my dis-
courses, that it made my conversation tiresome: for [could tall of
nothing else; all my discourse ran into it, even to impertinence,
and L saw it myself.

Lhave often heard persons of good judgment say that all the
stir people make in the world about ghosts and apparitions: is
owing to the strength of imagination and the powerful operation
of fancy in their minds; that there is no such thing as a spirit ap-
pearing, or a ghost walking, and the like: that people's: poring
alfectionately upon the past conversation of their deceased friends
so realizes it to them, that they are capable of fancying, upon some
extraordinary circumstances, that they see them, talle to them, and
are answered by them; when, in truth, there is nothing but
shadow and vapour in the thing, and they really know nothing of
the matter. y
~ For my part, [ know not to this hour whether there are any
such things as real apparitions, spectres, or walking of people after
they are dead; or whether there is anything in the stories they
tell us of that kind more than the product of vapours, sick minds,
and wandering fancies; but this L know, that my imagination
worked up to such a height, and brought me into such cestasies
of vapours, or what else L may call it, that T actually supposed
myself oftentimes upon the spot, at my old castle behind the trees ;
ROBINSON CRUSOR’S DREAM, 865

saw my old Spaniard, Friday’s father, and the reprobate sailors |
left upon the island; nay, [fancied T tallod with them, and looked
at them so steadily, though T was broad awake, as at persons just
beforo mo; and this T did till [ often trighted myself with the
images ‘ay fancy represented to me. One time in my sleep I had
the villany of the three pirate sailors so lively related to me by
tho first Spaniard and Vriday’s father, that it was surprising. They
told me how they barbarously attempted to murder all the
Spaniards, and that they set fire to the provisions they had laid
Up, on purpose to distress and starve them; things that T had
never heard of, and that indeed were never all of them true in
fact. But it was so warm in my imagination, and so realized to
me, that to the hour T saw them T could not be persuaded but
that it was or would bo true; also how [ resented it, when the
Spaniard complained to me, and how T brought them to justice,
tried them before me, and ordered them all three to be hanged.
What there was really in this shall be seen in its place; for how-
ever [came to form such things in my dream, and what secret
converse of spirits injected it, yet there was very much of it true.
Tsay, T own that this dream had nothing in it literally and speci-
fically true; but the general part was so true, the base, villanous
behaviour of these three hardened rogues was such, atid had been
so much worse than all [ can describe, that the dream had too
much similitude of the fact; and as LT would afterwards have
punished them severely, so if I had hanged them all [ had been
much in the right, and should have been justifiable both by the
laws of God and man.

But to return to my story. Tn this kind of temper [ had lived
some years; [ had no enjoyment of my life, no pleasant hours, no
agreeable diversion, but what had something or other of this in it;
so that my wife, who saw my mind so wholly bent upon it, told
me very seriously one night that she believed there was some
secret powerful impulse of Providence upon me which had deter-
mined me to go thither again; and that she found nothing hindered
my going but my being engaged to a wife and children. She told
me that it was true she could not think of parting with me, but
as she was assured that if she was dead it would be the first thing
866 PROS AND CONS,

1 would do, so, as it seemed to her that the thing was determined
above, she would not be the only obstruction; for if I thought fit,
and resolved to go

 

Here she found me very intent upon her
words, and that [looked very earnestly at her, so that it a little
disordered her, and she stopped. LT asked her why she did not go
on, and say out what she was going to say? But I perceived her
heart was too full, and some tears stood in her eyes. “ Speak out,
my dear,” said 1; “are you willing I should go?” “ No,” says
she, very affectionately, “Tam far from willing. But if you are
resolved to go,” says she, “and rather than T will be the only
hindranee, L will go with you: for though T think it a most pre-
posterous thing for one of your years, and in your condition, yet if
it must be,” said she, again weeping, “ I won't leave you: for if it
be of Heaven, you must do it—there is no resisting it; and if
Heaven makes it your duty to go, he will also make it mine to go
with you, or otherwise dispose of me, that [ may not obstruct it.”

This affectionate behaviour of my wife’s brought me a little out
of the vapours, and I began to consider what I was adoing. 1
corrected my wandering fancy, and began to argue with myself
sedately what business L had, after threescore years, and after such
a life of tedious sufferings and disasters, and closed in so happy and
easy a manner, 1 say, what business [ had to rush into new
hazards, and put myself upon adventures fit only for youth and
poverty to run into?

With those thoughts, I considered my new engagement, that I
had a wife, one child born, and my wife then great with child of
another; that I had all the world could give me, and had no need
to seek hazards for gain; that I was declining in years, and ought
to think rather of leaving what I had gained than of seeking to in-
ecrease it; that as to what my wife had said, of its being an im-
pulse from Heaven, and that it should be my duty to go, I had no
notion of that: so, after many of these cogitations, I struggled
with the power of my imagination, reasoned myself out of it, as I
believe people may always do in like cases, if they will; and, in a
word, I conquered it; composed myself with such arguments as
occurred to my thought, and which my present condition furnished
me plentifully with, and particularly, as the most effectual method, ]
A COUNTRY LIFE, 867

resolved to divert myself with other things, and to engage in some
business that might effectually tie me up from any more excursions
of this kind; for I found that thing return upon me chiefly when
Twas idle, had nothing to do, nor anything of moment immedi-
ately before me.

To this purpose I bought a little farm in the county of Bedford,
and resolved to remove myself thither. I had a little convenient
house upon it; and the land about it I found was capable of great
improvement, and that it was many ways suited to my inclination,
which delighted in cultivating, managing, planting, and improving
of land: and particularly, being an inland country, I was removed
from conversing among ships, sailors, and things relating to the
remote part of the world. In a word, I went down to my farm,
settled my family, bought me ploughs, harrows, a cart, waggon,
horses, cows, sheep, and, setting seriously to work, became in one
half year a mere country gentleman. My thoughts were entirely
taken up in managing my servants, oultivating the ground, enclos-
ing, planting, Ge.; and I lived, as I thought, the most agrecable
life that Nature was capable of directing, or that a man always
bred to misfortunes was capable of being retreated to.

I farmed upon my own land; I had no rent to pay, was limited
by no articles; I could pull up or cut down as I pleased ; what I
planted was for myself, and what I improved was for my family :
and having thus left off the thoughts of wandering, I had not the
least discomfort in any part of life, as to this world. Now I thought
indeed that I enjoyed the middle state of life that my father so
earnestly recommended to me, and lived a kind of heavenly life,
something like what is described by the poet upon the subject of a
country life :

Free from vices, free from care,
ge has no pain, and youth no snare.”

But in the middle of all this felicity, one blow from unforeseen
Providence unhinged me at once, and not only made a breach upon
me inevitable and incurable, but drove me by its consequences into
a deep relapse into the wandering disposition; which, as I may
say, being born in my very blood, soon recovered its hold of me,

and, like the returns of a violent distemper, came on with an
(os; eb
868 DEATH OF CRUSOEF'S WIFE.

irresistible force upon me, so that nothing could make any more
impression upon me. This blow was the loss of my wife.

It is not my business here to write an elegy upon my wife, give
a character of her particular virtues, and make my court to the
sex by the flattery of a funeral sermon. She was, im a few words,
the stay of all my affairs; the centre of all my enterprises; the
engine that by her prudence reduced me to that happy compass I
was in, from the most extravagant and ruinous project that flut-
tered in my head, as above; and did more to guide my rambling
genius than a mother’s tears, a father’s instructions, a friend's
counsel, or my own reasoning powers could do. I was happy in
listening to her tears and in being moved by her entreaties, and to
the last degree desolate and dislocated in the world by the loss
of her.

When she was gone, the world looked awkwardly round me. I
was as much a stranger in it, in my thoughts, as I was in the
Brazils when I went first on shore there ; and as much alone, except
as to the assistance of servants, as I was in my island. T knew
neither what to do nor what not to do. I saw the world busy
round me: one part labouring for bread, and the other part squan-
dering in vile excesses or empty pleasures; equally miserable,
because the end they proposed still fled from them: for the man of
pleasure every day surfeited of his vice, and heaped up work for
sorrow and repentance, and the men of labour spent their strength
in daily strugglings for bread to maintain the vital strength they
laboured with ; so living in a daily circulation of sorrow, living but
to work, and working but to live, as if daily bread were the only
end of wearisome life, and a wearisome life the only occasion of
daily bread.

This put me in mind of the life I lived in my kingdom, the
island, where | suffered no more corn to grow because I did not
want it, and bred no more goats because I had no more use for
them ; where the money lay in the drawer until it grew mouldy,
and had scarce the favour to be looked upon in twenty years.

All these things, had I improved them as I ought to have done,
and as reason and religion had dictated to me, would have taught
to me to search further than human enjoyments for a full felicity,
RETURN TO LONDON. 869

and that there was something which certainly was the reason and
end of life superior to all these things, and which was either to be
possessed or at least hoped for on this side the grave.

But my sage counsellor was gone. I was like a ship without a
pilot, that could only run afore the wind. My thoughts ran all
away again into the old affair; my head was quite turned with
the whimsies of foreign adventures ; and all the pleasant innocent
amusements of my farm and my garden, my cattle and my family,
which before entirely possessed me, were nothing to me, had no
relish, and were like music to one that has no ear, or food to one
that has no taste. In a word, I resolved to leave off house-keep-
ing, let my farm, and return to London; and in a few months
after, I did so.

When I came to London I was still as uneasy as I was before.
T had no relish to the place, no employment in it, nothing to do
but to saunter about like an idle person, of whom it may be said
he is perfectly useless in God’s creation, and it is not one farthing
matter to the rest of his kind whether he be dead or alive. This
also was the life which of all circumstances of life was the most
my aversion, who had been all my days used to an active life; and
I would often say to myself, “ A state of idleness is the very dregs
of life:” and indeed T thought I was much more suitably employed
when I was twenty-six days a making me a deal board.

It was now the beginning of the year 1693, when my nephew,
whom, as I have observed before, I had brought up to the sea, and
had made him commander of a ship, was come home from a short
voyage to Bilboa, being the first he had made; and he came to
me, and told me that some merchants of his acquaintance had been
proposing to him to go a voyage for them to the East Indies and
to China as private traders. ‘‘ And now, uncle,” says he, “if you
will go to sea with me, I’ll engage to land you upon your old
habitation in the island, for we are to touch at the Brazils.”

Nothing can be a greater demonstration of a future state, and of
the existence of an invisible world, than the concurrence of second
causes with the ideas of things which we form in our minds per-
fectly reserved, and not communicated to any in the world. My
nephew knew nothing how far my distemper of wandering was
370 THE OLD RESTLESSNESS.

returned upon me, and [ knew nothing of what he had in his
thoughts to say, when that very morning before he came to me I
had, in a great deal of confusion of thought, and revolving every
part of my circumstances in my mind, come to this resolution—
namely, that I would go to Lisbon, and consult with my old sea-
captain, and so, if it was rational and practicable, I would go and
see the island again, and see what was become of my people there.
I had pleased myself with the thoughts of peopling the place, and
carrying inhabitants from hence, getting a patent for the possession,
and I know not what; when in the middle of all this in comes my
nephew, as I have said, with his project of carrying me thither in
his way to the East Indies.

I paused a while at his words, and looking steadily at him,
“What devil,” said I, “sent you of this unlucky errand?” My
nephew startled as if he had been frighted at first ; but perceiv-
ing I was not much displeased with the proposal, he recovered
himself. “I hope it may not be an unlucky proposal, sir,” says
he; “I daresay you would be pleased to see your new colony there,
where you once reigned with more felicity than most of your
brother monarchs in the world.”

In a word, the scheme hit so exactly with my temper—that is
to say, the prepossession I was under, and of which I have said so
much—that I told him, in few words, if he agreed with the mer-
chants I would go with him. But I told him I would not promise
to go any further than my own island. ‘‘ Why, sir,” says he,
“you don't want to be left there again, I hope?” “ Why,” said
J, “can you not take me up again in your return?” He told me
it could not be possible that the merchants would allow him to
come that way with a loaded ship of such value, it being a month's
sail out of his way, and might be three or four. ‘“‘ Besides, sir, if
I should miscarry,” said he, ‘ and not return at all, then you would
be just reduced to the condition you were in before.”

This was very rational; but we both found out a remedy for
it, which was to carry a framed sloop on board the ship, which,
being taken in pieces and shipped on board the ship, might, by the
help of some carpenters whom we agreed to carry with us, be set
up again in the island and finished, fit to go to sea in a few days.
CRUSOE LEAVES ENGLAND, 371

I was not long resolving ; for indeed the importunities of my
nephew joined in so effectually with my inclination that nothing
could oppose ne. On the other hand, my wife being dead, I had
nobody concerned themselves so much for me as to persuade me
one way or other, except my ancient good friend the widow, who
earnestly struggled with me to consider my years, my easy circum-
stances, and the needless hazards of a long voyage ; and, above all,
my young children. But it was all to no purpose. I had an izre-
sistible desire to the voyage; and I told her 1 thought there was
something so uncommon in the impressions I had upon my mind
for the voyage that it would be a kind of resisting Providence if I
should attempt to stay at home: after which she ceased her expos-
tulations, and joined with me not only in making provision for my
voyage, but also in settling my family affairs for my absence, and
providing for the education of my children.

Jn order to this I made my will, and settled the estate I had in
such a manner for my children, and placed in such hands, that I
was perfectly easy and satisfied they would have justice done them,
whatever might befall me; and for their education, I left it
wholly to my widow, with a sufficient maintenance to herself for
her care: all which she richly deserved, for no mother could have
taken more care in their education, or understood it better; und
as she lived until I came home, I also lived to thank her for it.

My nephew was ready to sail about the beginning of January
1694-5 ; and I with my man Friday went on board in the Downs
the 8th, having, besides that sloop which I mentioned above, a
very considerable cargo of all kinds of necessary things for my
colony, which, if I did not find in good condition, I resolved to
leave so.

First, I carried with me some servants, whom I purposed to
place there as inhabitants, or at least to set on work there upon
my own account while I stayed, and either to leave them there or
carry them forward as they should appear willing: particularly I
carried two carpenters, a smith, and a very handy, ingenious fellow,
who was a cooper by trade, but was also a general mechanic, for
he was dexterous at making wheels, and hand-mills to grind corn,
was a good turner and a good pot-maker; he also made anything
372 A VALUABLE CARGO.

that was proper to make of earth or of wood; in a word, we called
him our Jack-of-all-trades.

With these I carried a tailor, who had offered himself to go
passenger to the Hast Indies with my nephew, but afterwards con-
sented to stay on our new plantation, and proved a most necessary
handy fellow as could be desired in many other businesses besides
that of his trade; for, as I observed formerly, necessity arms us
for all employments.

My cargo, as near as I can collect, for I have not kept an
account of the particulars, consisted of a sufficient quantity of
linen, and some thin English stuffs for clothing the Spaniards that
I expected to find there, and enough of them as, by my calcula-
tion, might comfortably supply them for seven years. If I re-
member right, the materials I carried for clothing them with,
gloves, hats, shoes, stockings, and all such things as they could
want for wearing, amounted to above £200, including some beds,
bedding, and household stuff, particularly kitchen utensils, with
pots, kettles, pewter, brass, &c.; and near £100 more in iron-
work, nails, tools of every kind, staples, hooks, hinges, and every
necessary thing I could think of.

I carried also an hundred spare arms, muskets, and fuzees,
besides some pistols, a considerable quantity of shot of all sizes,
and two pieces of brass cannon; and because J] knew not what
time, and what extremities I was providing for, I carried an
hundred barrels of powder, besides swords, cutlasses, and the iron
part of some pikes and halberds; so that, in short, we had a large
magazine of all sorts of stores. And I made my nephew carry two
small quarter-deck guns more than he wanted for his ship, to
leave behind, if there was occasion, that, when we came there,
we might build a fort, and man it against all sorts of enemies;
and, indeed, I at first thought there was need enough for it all,
and much more, if we hoped to maintain our possession of the
island, as shall be seen in the course of that story.

T had not such bad luck in this voyage as I had been used to
meet with, and therefore shall have the less occasion to interrupt
the reader, who, perhaps, may be impatient to hear how matters
went with my colony; yet some odd accidents, cross winds, and
A SHIP ON FIRE, 378

bad weather happened on this first setting out, which made the
voyage longer than I expected it at first: and I, who had never made
but one voyage (namely, my first voyage to Guinea) in which I
might be said to come back again as the voyage was at first
designed, began to think the same ill fate still attended me, and
that I was born never to be contented with being on shore, and yet
to‘be always unfortunate at sea.

Contrary winds first put us to the northward, and we were
obliged to put in at Galway in Ireland, where we lay wind-bound
two and twenty days. But we had this satisfaction with the dis-
aster, that provisions were here exceeding cheap, and in the utmost
plenty; so that while we lay here we never touched the ship’s
stores, but rather added to them; also I took in several live hogs,
and two cows, and calves, which I resolved, if I had a good
passage, to put on shore in my island; but we found occasion to
dispose otherwise of them.

We set out the 5th February from Ireland, and had a very fair
gale of wind for some days. As I remember, it might be about
the 20th of February, in the evening late, when the mate, having
the watch, came into the round-house and told us he saw a flash
of fire and heard a gun fired; and while he was telling us of it, a
boy came in and told us the boatswain heard another. This made
us all run out upon the quarter-deck, where, for a while, we heard
nothing; but in a few minutes we saw a very great light, and
found that there was some very terrible fire at a distance. Im-
mediately we had recourse to our reckonings, in which we all
agreed that there could be no land that way in which the fire
showed itself, no, not for five hundred leagues, for it appeared at
west-north-west. Upon this we concluded it must be some ship
on fire at sea; and as, by our hearing the noise of guns just before,
we concluded it could not be far off, we stood directly towards it
and were presently satisfied we should discover it, because the
further we sailed the greater the light appeared, though the weather
being hazy, we could not perceive anything but the light for a while.
In about half an hour’s sailing, the wind being fair for us, though
not much of it, and the weather clearing up a little, we could plainly
discern that it was a great ship on fire in the middle of the sea.
874 WAITING FOR DAYLIGHT.

 

“A GREAT SHIP ON FIRE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SHA.”

Twas most sensibly touched with this disaster, though not at
all acquainted with the persons engaged in it. I presently recol-
leeted my former circumstances, and in what condition I was in
when taken up by the Portugal eaptain; and how much more
deplorable the circumstances of the poor creatures belonging to
this ship must be if they had no other ship in company with them.
Upon this | immediately ordered that five guns should be fired,
one soon after another, that, if possible, we might give notice to
them that there was help for them at hand, and that they might
endeavour to save themselves in their boat; for though we could
see the flame of the ship, yet they, it being night, could see
nothing of us.

We lay by some time upon this, only driving as the burning
ship drove, waiting for daylight; when, on a sudden, to our great
terror, though we had reason to expect it, the ship blew up in
RESCUE OF CREW AND PASSENGERS. 875

the air; and iminediately, that is to say, in a few minutes, all
the fire was out, that is to say, the rest of the ship sunk. This
was a terrible, and indeed an afflicting sight, for the sake of the
poor men, who, I concluded, must be either all destroyed in the
ship, or be in the utmost distress in their boat in the middle of the
ocean, which at present, by reason it was dark, I could not see.
However, to direct them as well as I could, I caused lights to be
hung out in all the parts of the ship where we could, and which
we had lanterns for, and kept firing guns all night long, letting
them know by this that there was a ship not far off.

About eight o’clock in the morning we discovered the ship’s
boats by the help of our perspective glasses, and found there were
two of them, both thronged with people, and deep in the water.
We perceived they rowed, the wind being against them, that they
saw our ship, and did their utmost to make us see them.

We immediately spread our ancient to let them know we saw
them, and hung a waft out as a signal for them to come on board,
and then made more sail, standing directly to them. In little
more than half an hour we came up with them, and in a word,
took them all in, being no less than sixty-four men, women, and
children ; for there were a great many passengers.

Upon the whole, we found it was a French merchant ship of
three hundred tons, homeward bound from Quebec, in the river of
Canada. The master gave us a long account of the distress of his
ship; how the fire began in the steerage, by the negligence of the
steersman; but on his crying out for help, was, as everybody
thought, entirely put out, when they found that some sparks of
the first fire had gotten into some part of the ship so difficult
to come at that they could not effectually quench it, till, getting in
between the timbers, and within the ceiling of the ship, it pro-
ceeded into the hold, and mastered all the skill and all the applica-
tion they were able to exert.

They had no more to do then but to get into their boats, which,
to their great comfort, were pretty large, being their long-boat,
and a great shallop, besides a small skiff, which was of no great
service to them, other than to get some fresh water and provisions
into her after they had secured their lives from the fire. They
376 A SIMPLE STORY.

had indeed small hope of their lives by getting into these boats at
that distance from any land, only, as they said well, that they were
escaped from the fire, and had a possibility that some ship might
happen to be at sea, and might take them in. They had sails,
oars, and a compass, and were preparing to make the best of their
way back to Newfoundland, the wind blowing pretty fair, for it
blew an easy gale at south-east by east. They had as much pro-
visions and water as, with sparing it so as to be next door to starv-
ing, might support them about twelve days, in which, if they had no
bad weather, and no contrary winds, the captain said he hoped he
might get the Banks of Newfoundland, and might perhaps take
some fish to sustain them till they might go on shore. But there
were so many chances against them in all these cases, such as
storms to overset and founder them, rains and cold to benumb and
perish their limbs, contrary winds to keep them out and starve
them, that it must have been next to miraculous if they had
eseaped,

In the midst of their consultations, every one being hopeless
and ready to despair, the captain, with tears in his eyes, told me
they were on a sudden surprised with the joy of hearing a gun
fire, and after that four more. ‘These were the five guns which I
caused to be fired at first seeing the light. This revived their
hearts, and gave them the notice which, as above, I desired it
should, namely, that there was a ship at hand for their help.

Tt was upon hearing these guns that they took down their
masts and sails; the sound coming from the windward, they
resolved to lie by until morning. Some time after this, hearing
no more guns, they fired three muskets, one a considerable while
after another; but these, the wind being contrary, we never
heard,

Some time after that again, they were still more agreeably
surprised with seeing our lights, and hearing the guns, which, as 1
have said, I caused to be fired all the rest. of the night. This set
them to work with their oars, to keep their boats ahead, at least,
that we might the sooner come up with them; and at last, to
their inexpressible joy, they found we saw them.

It is impossible for me to express the several gestures, the strange
EXTRAVAGANT DISPLAY OF EMOTION, 877

cestasies, the variety of postures which these poor delivered people
ran into to express the joy of their souls at so unexpected a
deliverance. Grief and fear are easily described ; sighs, tears,
groans, and a very few motions of the head and hands make up
the sum of its variety; but an excess of joy, a surprise of joy,
has a thousand extravagances in it. There were some in tears;
some yaging and tearing themselves, as if they had been in the
greatest agonies of sorrow; some stark-raving and downright
lunatic; some ran about the ship stamping with their feet, others
wringing their hands; some were dancing, some singing, some
laughing, more crying, many quite dumb, not able to speak a
word; others sick and vomiting; others swooning, and ready to
faint; and a few were crossing themselves, and giving God
thanks.

T would not wrong them neither; there might be many that
were thankful afterward, but the passion was too strong for them
at first, and they were not able to master it; they were thrown
into ecstasies and a kind of frenzy, and it was but a very few that
were composed and serious in their joy.

Perhaps the case may have some addition to it from the par-
ticular circumstance of that nation they belonged to, I mean the
French, whose temper is allowed to be more volatile, more pas-
sionate, and more sprightly, and their spirits more fluid than in
other nations. I am not philosopher enough to determine the
cause; but nothing I had ever seen before came up to it. The
eestasies poor Friday, my trusty savage, was in, when he found his
father in the boat, came the nearest to it; and the surprise of the
master and his two companions, whom I delivered from the villains
that set them on shore in the island, came a little way towards it;
but nothing was to compare to this, either that I saw in Friday,
or anywhere else in my life.

It is further observable, that these extravagances did not show
themselves in that different manner I have mentioned in different
persons only, but all the variety would appear in a short suc-
cession of moments in one and the same person. A man that we
saw this minute dumb, and, as it were, stupid and confounded,
should the next minute be dancing and hallooing Jike an antic;
878 DANGER OF EXCESSIVE JOY.

and the next moment be tearing his hair, or pulling his clothes
to pieces and stamping them under his feet, like a mad man; and
afew moments after that we should have him all in tears, then
sick, then swooning; and had not immediate help been had, would
ina few moments more have been dead. And thus it was, not with
one or two, or ten or twenty, but with the greatest part of them;
and if T remember right, our surgeon was obliged to let above
thirty of them blood.

There were two priests among them, one an old man, and the
other a young man; and that which was strangest was that the
oldest man was the worst. As soon as heset his foot on board our
ship, and saw himself safe, he dropped down stone-dead, not the
least sign ef life could be perceived in him, Our surgeon imme-
diately applied proper remedies to recover him, and was the only
man in the ship that believed he was not dead. At length he
opened a vein in his arm, having first chafed and rubbed the part
so as to warm it as much as possible. Upon this, the blood, which
only dropped at first, flowed something freely; in three minutes
after the man opened his eyes; and about a quarter of an hour
alter that, he spoke, grew better, and in a little time quite well.
After the blood was stopped, he walked about and told us he was
perfectly well, took a dram of cordial which the surgeon gave him,
and was what we called come to himself. About a quarter of an
hour after, they came running into the cabin to the surgeon, who
was bleeding a French woman that had fainted, and told him the
priest was gone stark mad. Tt seems he had begun to revolve the
change of his circumstance, and again this put him into an eestasy
of joy ; his spirits whirled about faster than the vessels could con-
vey them, the blood grew hot and feverish, and the man was as
fit for Bedlam as any creature that ever was init. The surgeon
would not bleed him again in that condition, but gave him some-
thing to doze and put him to sleep, which after some time operated
upon him, and he waked the next morning perfectly composed and
well.

The younger priest behaved with great command of his passions,
and was really an example of a serious, well-governed mind. At his
first coming on board the ship, he threw himself flat on his face,
CRUSOE’S STRANGE GUESTS. 879

prostrating himself in thankfulness for his deliverance: in which ]
unhappily and unseasonably disturbed him, really thinking he had
been in a swoon; but he spake calmly, thanked me, told me he
was giving God thanks for his deliverance, and begged me to leave
him a few moments, and that next to his Maker he would give me
thanks also. k

I was heartily sorry that I disturbed him, and not only left
him, but kept others from interrupting him also. He continued
in that posture about three minutes, or little more, after I left
him, then came to me, as he had said he would, and with a great
deal of seriousness and atfection, but with tears in his eyes, thanked
me that had, under God, given him and so many miserable crea-
tures their lives. I told him I had no room to move him to thank
God for it, rather than me; but I added, that it was nothing but
what reason and humanity dictated to all men, and that we had as
much reason as he to give thanks to God, who had blessed us so
far as to make us the instruments of his mercy to so many of his
creatures.

After this, the young priest applied himself to his country-folks ;
laboured to compose them, persuaded, entreated, argued, reasoned
with them, and did his utmost to keep them within the exercise
of their reason ; and with some he had success, though others were
for a time out of all government of themselves.

I cannot help committing this to writing, as perhaps it may be
useful to those into whose hands it may fall, for the guiding them-
selves in all the extravagances of their passion; for if an excess of
joy can carry men out to such a length beyond the reach of their
reason, what will not the extravagances of anger, rage, and a pro-
voked mind, carry us to? And, indeed, here I saw reason for
keeping an exceeding watch over our passions of every kind, as
well those of joy and satisfaction, as those of sorrow and anger.

We were something disordered by these extravagances among
our new guests for the first day; but when they had been retired,
lodgings provided for them as well as our ship would allow, and
they had slept heartily, as most of them did, they were quite
another sort of people the next day.

Nothing of good manners or civil acknowledgments for the
880 A NOBLE GENEROSITY.

kindness shown them was wanting; the French, it is known, ure
naturally apt to exceed that way. The captain and one of the
priests came to me the next day, and desiring to speak with me
and my nephew the commander, began to consult with us what
should be done with them. And first they told us that, as we had
saved their lives, so all they had was little enough for a return to
us for that kindness received. The captain said, they had saved
some money and some things of value in their boats, caught
hastily up out of the flames, and if we would accept it, they were
ordered to make an offer of it all to us; they only desired to be
set on shore somewhere in our way, where, if possible, they might
get passage to France.

My nephew was for accepting their money at first word, and to
consider what to do with them afterwards; but I overruled him
in that part, for T knew what it was to be set on shore in a strange
country; and if the Portugal captain that took me up at sea had
served mo so, and took all T had for my deliverance, T raast have
starved, or have been as much a slave at the Brazils as | had been
in Barbary, the mere being sold to a Mohammedan excepted; and
perhaps a Portuguese is not much a better master than a Turk, if
not in some cases a2 much worse.

I therefore told the French captain, that we had taken them up
in their distress, it was true, but that it was our duty to do so as
we were fellow-creatures, and as we would desire to be so delivered
if we were in the like or any other extremity ; that we had done
nothing for them but what we believed they would have done for
us, if we had been in their case and they in ours: but that we took
them up to save them, not to plunder them; and it would be a
most barbarous thing to take that little from them which they
had saved out of the fire, and then set them on shore and leave
them; that this would be first to save them from death and then
to kill them ourselves, save them from drowning and abandon them
to starving ; and therefore T would not let the least thing be taken
from them. As to setting them on shore, I told them indeed that
was an exceeding difficulty to us, for that the ship was bound to the
Nast Indies, and though we were driven out of our course to the
westward a very great way, and perhaps were directed by Heaven
WHAT SHALL BE DONE? 381

on purpose for their deliverance, yet it was impossible for us wil-
fully to change our voyage on this particular account, nor could my
nephew, the captain, answer it ‘to the freighters, with whom he
was under charter-party to pursue his voyage by the way of Brazil ;
and all I knew we could do for them was to put ourselves in the
way of meeting with other ships, homeward bound from the West
“Indies, and get them passage, if possible, to Nngland or France.

The first part of the proposal was so generous and kind, they
could not but be very thankful for it; but they were in a very
great consternation, especially the passengers, at the notion of
being carried away to the Kast Indies; and they then entreated
me, that seeing I was driven so far to the westward before I met
with them, [ would at least keep on the same course to the Banks
of Newfoundland, where it was probable I might meet with some
ship or sloop that they might hire to carry them back to Canada,
from whence they came.

T thought this was but a reasonable request on their part, and
therefore I inclined to agree to it ; for, indeed, I considered that to
carry this whole company to the East Indies, would not only be an
intolerable severity upon the poor people, but would be ruining
our whole voyage by devouring all our provisions: so I thought
it no breach of charter-party, but what an unforeseen accident made
absolutely necessary to us, and in which no one could say we were
to blame; for the laws of God and nature would have forbid that
we should refuse to take up two boats full of people in such a dis-
tressed condition; and the nature of the thing, as well respecting
ourselves as the poor people, obliged us to set them on shore some-
where or other for their deliverance. So I consented that we
should carry them to Newfoundland, if wind and weather would
permit, and if not, that I would carry them to Martinico in the
West Indies.

The wind continued fresh easterly, but the weather pretty good ;
and as the winds had continued in the points between north-east
and south-east a long time, we missed several opportunities of
sending them to France; for we met several ships bound to
Europe, whereof two were French, from St. Christopher’s, but they
had been so long beating up against the wind, that they durst take
882 SPEAKING A BRISTOL TRADER.

in no passengers for fear of wanting provisions for the voyage, as
well for themselves as for those they should take in; so we were
obliged to go on. It was about-a week after this that we made
the Banks of Newfoundland, where, to shorten my story, we put
all our French people on board a bark, which they hired at sea
there, to put them on shore, and afterward to carry them to France,
if they could get provisions to victual themselves with. When I’
say all the French went on shore, I should remember that the
young priest I spoke of, hearing we were bound to the Kast Indies
desired to go the voyage with us, and to be set on shore on the
coast of Coromandel, which I readily agreed to, for I wonderfully
liked the man, and had very good reason, as will appear afterward;
also four of the seamen entered themselves on our ship, and proved
very useful fellows.

From hence we directed our course to the West Indies, steering
away south and south by east for about twenty days together,
sometimes little or no wind at all, when we met with another
subject for our humanity to work upon, almost as deplorable as
that before.

It was in the latitude of 27° 5’ north, and the 19th day of
March 1694-5, when we espied a sail, our course south-east and by
south. We soon perceived it was a large vessel, and that she bore
up to us, but could not at first know what to make of her, till
after coming a little nearer we found she had lost her maintop-
mast, fore-mast, and boltsprit; and presently she fired a gun as a
signal of distress. The weather was pretty good, wind at north-
north-west, a fresh gale; and we soon came to speak with her.

We found her a ship of Bristol, bound home from Barbadoes,
but had been blown out of the road at Barbadoes a few days before
she was ready to sail by a terrible hurricane, while the captain
and chief mate were both gone on shore; so that, besides the terror
of the storm, they were but in an indifferent case for good artists
to bring the ship home. They had been already nine weeks at
sea, and had met with another terrible storm after the hurricane
was over, which had blown them quite out of their knowledge to
the westward, and in which they lost their mast, as above. They
told us they expected to have seen the Bahama Islands, but were
A FAMISHED CREW. 888

then driven away again to the south-east by a strong gale of wind
at north-north-west, the same that blew now; and having no sails
to work the ship with but a main course, and a kind of square sail
upon a jury fore-mast, which they had set up, they could not lie
near the wind, but were endeavouring to stand away for the
Canaries.

But that which was worst of all was, that they were almost
starved for want of provisions, besides the fatigues they had under-
gone; their bread and flesh were quite gone, they had not one
ounce left in the ship, and had had none for eleven days. The only
relief they had was, their water was not all spent, and they had
about half a barrel of flour left; they had sugar enough; some
succades, or sweetmeats, they had at first, but they were devoured;
and they had seven casks of rum.

There was a youth and his mother and a maidservant on board,
who were going passengers, and thinking the ship was ready to
sail, unhappily came on board the evening before the hurricane
began; and having no provisions of their own left, they were in a
more deplorable condition than the rest, for the seamen, being
reduced to such an extreme necessity themselves, had no compas-
sion, we may be sure, for the poor passengers, and they were
indeed in a condition that their misery is very hard to describe.

T had, perhaps, not known this part, if my curiosity had not led
me, the weather being fair and the wind abated, to go on board the
ship. The second mate, who upon this occasion commanded the
ship, had been on board our ship, and he told me indeed they had
three passengers in the great cabin that were in a deplorable con-
dition: “Nay,” says he, ‘I believe they are dead, for I have
heard nothing of them for above two days, and I was afraid to
inquire after them,” said he, “for I had nothing to relieve them
with.”

We immediately applied ourselves to give them what relief we
could spare; and, indeed, I had so far overruled things with my
nephew, that I would have victualled them, though we had gone
away to Virginia, or any part of the coast of America, to have
supplied ourselves ; but there was no necessity for that.

But now they were in a new danger; for they were afraid of
(284) 25
884 A MISERARLE SPECTACLE,

eating too much, even of that little we gave them. The mate, or
commander, brought six men with him in his boat, but these poor
wretches looked like skeletons, and were so weak they could hardly
sit to their oars. The mate himself was very ill and half starved;
for he deelared he had reserved nothing from the men, and went
share and share alike with them in every bit they ate.

T cautioned him to eat sparingly, but set meat before him im-
mediately, and he had not eaten three mouthfuls before he began
to be sick and out of order. So he stopped a while, and our sur-
geon mixed him up something with some broth, which he said to
him would be both food and physie; and after he had taken it, he
grew better. In the meantime, T forgot not the men; 1 ordered
victuals to be given them, and the poor creatures rather devoured
than ate it. They were so exceeding hungry, that they were in a
kind ravenous, and had no command of themselves; and two of
them ate with so much greediness that they were in danger of
their lives the next morning.

The sight of these people’s distress was very moving to me, and
brought to mind what T had a terrible prospect of at my first
coming on shore in the island, where T had neither the least
mouthful of food nor any prospect of securing any, besides the
hourly apprehension Thad of being made the food of other
creatures. But all the while the mate was thus relating to me the
miserable condition of the ship’s company, T could not put out of
my thought the story he had told me of the three poor creatures in
the great cabin, namely, the mother, her son, and the maid-
servant, whom he had heard nothing of for two or three days, and
whom he seemed to confess they had wholly neglected, their own
extremities being so great; by which T understood that they had
really given them no food at all, and that therefore they must be
perished, and be all lying dead, perhaps, on the floor or deck of the
cabin.

As I therefore kept the mate, whom we then called captain, on
board with his men to refresh them, so I also forgot not the starv-
ing crew that were left on board, but ordered my own boat to go
on board the ship, and with my mate and twelve men to carry
them a sack of bread and four or five pieces of beef to boil. Om
THE STRAITS OF HUNGER. 886

surgeon charged the men to cause the meat to be boiled while they
stayed, and to keep guard in the cook-room to prevent the men
taking it to eat raw, or taking it out of the pot before it was well
boiled, and then to give every man but a very little at a time; and
by this caution he preserved the men, who would otherwise have
killed themselves with that very food that was given them on pur-
pose to save their lives.

At the same time, I ordered the mate to go into the great cabin
and see what condition the poor passengers were in, and if they
were alive, to comfort them, and give them what refreshment was
proper; and the surgeon gave him a large pitcher with some of
the prepared broth which he had given the mate that was on
board, and which he did not question would restore them
gradually.

I was not satisfied with this, but, as I said above, having a great
mind to see the scene of misery which I knew the ship itself would
present me with in a more lively manner than I could have it by
report, I took the captain of the ship, as we now called him, with
me, and went myself a little after in their boat.

I found the poor men on board almost in a tumult to get the
victuals out of the boiler before it was ready. But my mate
observed his order, and kept a good guard at the cook-room door;
and the man he placed there, after using all possible persuasion to
have patience, kept them off by force. However, he caused some
biscuit cakes to be dipped in the pot and softened with the liquor
of the meat, which they called brewes, and gave them every one,
one to stay their stomachs, and told them it was for their own
safety that he was obliged to give them but a little at a time.
But it was all in vain; and had I not come on board, and their
own commander and officers with me, and with good words, and
some threats also of giving them no more, I believe they would
have broken into the cook-room by force and torn the meat outof the
furnace. For words are indeed of very small force to a hungry
belly. However, we pacified them, and fed them gradually and
cautiously for the first time, and the next time gave them more,
and at last filled their bellies, and the men did well enough.

But the misery of the poor passengers in the cabin was of
386 A FAMISHED WOMAN,

another nature, and far beyond the rest; for as first the ship's
company had so little for themselves, it was but too true that they
had at first kept them very low, and at last totally neglected them,
so that for six or seven days, it might be said, they had really had
no food at all, and for several days before very little. ‘Phe poor
mother, who, as the men reported, was a woman of good sense
and good breeding, had spared all she could get so affectionately

for her son, that at Tast she entirely sank under it, And when

 

“PAE MATE ENDEAVOURED TO GET SOME OF THE BROTH INTO HER MOUTIL”

the mate of our ship went in, she sat upon the floor or deck, with
her back up against the sides, between two chairs, which were
lashed fast, and her head sunk in between her shoulders like a
corpse, though not quite dead. My mate said all he could to
revive and encourage her, and with a spoon put some broth into
her mouth. She opened her lips and lifted up one hand, but could
not speak; yet she understood what he said, and made signs to
him, intimating that it was too late for her, but pointed to
LIGHT OUT OF DARKNESS, 887

her child, as if she would have said they should take care of
him.

However, the mate, who was exceedingly moved with the sight,
endeavoured to get some of the broth into her mouth; and as he
said, got two or three spoonfuls down, though I question whether
he could be sure of it or not. But it was too late, and she died
the same night.

The youth, who was preserved at the price of his most atfec-
tionate mother’s life, was not so far gone, yet he lay in a cabin-bed
us one stretched out, with hardly any life left in him. He had a
piece of an old glove in his mouth, having eaten up the rest of it.
However, being young, and having more strength than his mother,
the mate got something down his throat, and he began sensibly to
revive; though, by giving him some time after but two or three
spoonfuls extraordinary, he was very sick, and brought it up
again. i

But the next care was the poor maid. She lay all along upon
the deck hard by her mistress, and just like one that had fallen
down with an apoplexy, and struggled for life. Her limbs were
distorted; one of her hands was clasped round the frame of a chair,
and she griped it so hard that we could not easily make her let
go; her other arm lay over her head; and her feet lay both
together set fast against the frame of the cabin table; in short,
she lay just like one in the last agonies of death, and yet she was
alive too,

The poor creature was not only starved with hunger and terrified
with the thoughts of death, but, as the men told us afterwards,
was broken-hearted for her mistress, whom she saw dying for two
or three days before, and whom she loved most tenderly.

We knew not what to do with this poor girl; for when our
surgeon, who was a man of very great knowledge and experience,
had with great application recovered her as to life, he had her
upon his hand as to her senses, for she was little less than dis-
tracted for a considerable time after, as shall appear presently.

Whoever shall read these memorandums must be desired to con-
sider that visits at sea are not like a journey into the country,
where sometimes people stay a week or a fortnight at a place.
358 AN ORPHAN’S DISTRESS,

Our business was to relieve this distressed ship's crew, but not te
lie by for them; and though they were willing to steer the same
course with us for some days, yet we could carry no sail to keep
pace with a ship that had no masts. Jlowever, as their captain
begged of us to help him to set up a main-top-mast, and a kind of
a top-mast to his jury fore-mast, we did, as it were, lie by hi for
three or four days; and then, having given him five barrels of beef
and a barrel of pork, two hogsheads of biscuit, and a proportion of
pease, flour, and what other things we could spare; and taking
three casks of sugar, some rum, and some pieces of eight of them
for satisfaction, we left them, taking on board with us, at their
own earnest request, the priest, the youth, and the maid, and all
their goods.

The young lad was about seventeen years of age, a pretty, well-
bred, modest, and sensible youth, greatly dejected with the loss of
his mother, and, as it seems, had lost his father but a few months
before at Barbadoes. He begged of the surgeon to speak to me ta
take him out of the ship, for he said the cruel fellows had mur-
dered his mother. And indeed so they had, that is to say, pas-
sively ; for they might have spared a small sustenance to the poor
helpless widow that might have preserved her life, though it had
been but just to keep her alive. But hunger knows no friend, no
relation, no justice, no right; and therefore is remorseless, and
capable of no compassion.

The surgeon told him how far we were going, and how it would
carry him away from all his friends, and put him, perhaps, in as
bad circumstances almost as those we found him in; that is to say,
starving in the world. He said it mattered not whither he went,
if he was but delivered from the terrible crew he was among.
That the captain (by which he meant me, for he could know
nothing of my nephew) had saved his life, and he was sure would
not hurt him; and as for the maid, he was sure, if she came to
herself, she would be very thankful for it, let us carry them where
we would. ‘The surgeon represented the case so affectionately to
me that T yielded, and we took them both on board with all their
goods, except eleven hogsheads of sugar, which could not be
removed or come at; and as the youth hada bill of lading for
OFF THE ORINOCO. 389

them, Emade his commander sign a writing obliging himself to
go, as soon as he came to Bristol, to one Mr. Rogers, a merchant
there, to whom the youth said he was related, and to deliver a letter
which T wrote to him, and all the goods he had belonging to the
deceased widow : which, [ suppose, was not done. for I could never
learn that the ship came to Bristol, but was, as is most probable,
lost at sea, being in so disabled a condition and so far from any
land, that Tam of opinion the first storm she met with afterwards
she might founder in the sea; for she was leaky, and had damage
in her hold when we met with her.

[ was now in the latitude of 19° 82’, and had hitherto
had a tolerable voyage as to weather, though at first the winds
had been contrary. I shall trouble nobody with the little
incidents of wind, weather, currents, Ge., on the rest of our voyage ;
but shortening my story for the sake of what is to follow, shall
observe that I came to my old habitation, the island, on the 10th
of April 1695. It was with no small difficulty that I found the
place; for as I came to it and went from it before on the south
and east side of the island, as coming from the Brazils, so now
coming in between the main and the island, and having no chart
for the coast nor any landmark, I did not know it when I saw it,
or know whether I saw it or no.

We beat about a great while, and went on shore on several
islands in the mouth of the great river Orinoco, but none for my
purpose. Only this I learned by my coasting the shore, that I was
under one great mistake before, namely, that the continent which
I thought I saw from the island I lived in was really no continent,
but a long island, or rather a ridge of islands, reaching from one
to the other side of the extended mouth of that great river; and
that the savages who came to my island were not properly those
which we call Caribbees, but islanders, and other barbarians of
the same kind, who inhabited something nearer to our side than
the rest.

In short, I visited several of these islands to no purpose. Some
I found were inhabited, and some were not. On one of them I
found some Spaniards, and thought they had lived there; but,
speaking with them, I found they had a sloop lay in a small creek
890 FRIDAY AND HIS FATHER,

hard by, and they came thither to make salt, and to catch some
pearl mussels if they could, but that they belonged to the Isle
de Trinidad, which Jay further north, in the latitude of 10 and
11 degrees.

But at last coasting from one island to another, sometimes with
the ship, sometimes with the Frenchman's shallop, which we had
found a convenient boat, and therefore kept her with their very
good will, at length I came fair on the south side of my island,
and I presently knew the very countenance of the place; so I
brought the ship safe to an anchor broadside with the little creek,
where was my old habitation.

As soon as T saw the place I called for Friday, and asked him
if he knew where he was? He looked about a little, and presently
clapping his hands, cried, “ O yes, O there! O yes, O there!” point-
ing to our old habitation; and fell a dancing and capering like a
mad fellow, and I had much ado to keep him from jumping into
the sea to swim ashore to the place.

“Well, Friday,” says I, ‘do you think we shall find anybody
here or no? And what do you think; shall we see your father ?”
The fellow stood mute as a stock a good while, but when I named
his father, the poor affectionate creature looked dejected, and I
could see the tears run down his face very plentifully.  ‘ What is
the matter, Friday,” says [2 “ Are you troubled because you
may see your father?” “ No, no,” says he, shaking his head; “no
see him more, no evermore see again.” “ Why so?” said I to
Friday ; “how do you know that?” “Ono, Ono,” says Friday ;
“he long ago die, long ago; he much old man.” ‘‘ Well, well,”
said I, * Friday, you don’t know; but shall we see any one else
then?” The fellow, it seems, had better eyes than I, and he
points just to the hill above my old house; and though we lay
half a league off, he cries out, ‘“ We see! we see! yes, we see much
men there, and there, and there.” I looked, but I could see
nobody, no, not with a perspective glass; which was, I suppose,
because I could not hit the place, for the fellow was right, as I
found upon inquiry the next day, and there were five or six men

all together, who stood to look at the ship, not knowing what te
think of us.
SCENE OF FILIAL AFFECTION, 391

As soon as Friday had told me he saw people, I caused the Knglish
ancient to be spread and fired three guns, to give them notice we
were friends; and in about half a quarter of an hour after, we per-
ceived a smoke rise from the side of the creek: so I immediately
ordered a boat out, taking Friday with me, and hanging out a
white flag, or flag of truce, I went directly on shore, taking with
me the young friar I mentioned, to whom I had told the whole
story of my living there, and the manner of it, and every particu-
lar both of myself and those I left there; and who was on that
account extremely desirous to go with me. We had besides about
sixteen men very well armed, if we had found any new guests there
which we did not know of; but we had no need of weapons.

As we went on shore upon the tide of flood, near high water,
we rowed directly into the creek, and the first man I fixed my eye
upon was the Spaniard whose life I had saved, and whom I knew
by his face perfectly well; as to his habit, I shall describe it after-
wards. I ordered nobody to go on shore at first but myself, but
there was no keeping Friday in the boat; for the affectionate
creature had spied his father at a distance, a good way olf of the
Spaniards, where indeed I saw nothing of him; and if they had
not let him go on shore, he would have jumped into the sea. He
was no sooner on shore but he flew away to his father like an
arrow out of a bow. It would have made any man have shed
tears in spite of the firmest resolution to have seen the first trans-
ports of this poor fellow’s joy when he came to his father; how he
embraced him, kissed him, stroked his face, took him up in his
arms, set him down upon a tree, and lay down by him, then stood
and looked at him, as any one would look at a strange picture, for a
quarter of an hour together; then lie down on the ground and
stroke his legs, and kiss them, and then get up again and stare at
him; one would have thought the fellow bewitched. But it
would have made a dog laugh to see how the next day his passion
ran out another way. In the morning he walked along the shore to
and again with his father several hours, always leading him by the
hand, as if he had been a lady; and every now and then he would
come to fetch something or other for him to the boat, either a
lump of sugar, or a dram, a biscuit cake, or something or other
892 ONCE MORE IN THE ISLAND.

that was good. In the afternoon his frolics ran another way, for
then he would set the old man down upon the ground, and dance
about him, and make a thousand antic postures and gestures; and
all the while he did this he would be talking to him, and telling
him one story or another of his travels, and of what had happened
to him abroad, to divert him. In short, if the same filial affection
was to be found in Christians to their parents in our part of the
world, one would be tempted to say there would hardly have been
any need of the Fifth Commandment.

But this is a digression. I return to my landing. It would be
endless to take notice of all the ceremonies and civilities that the
Spaniards received me with. ‘The first Spaniard, whom, as I said,
I knew very well, was he whose life I had saved. He came
towards the boat, attended by one more carrying a flag of truce
also; and he did not only not know me at first, but he had no
thoughts, no notion of its being me that was come till I spoke to
him. “ Seignior,” said I, in Portuguese, “do you not know me?”
At which he spoke not a word, but giving his musket to the man
that was with him, threw his arms abroad, and saying something
in Spanish that I did not perfectly hear, comes forward, and em-
braced me, telling me he was inexcusable not to know that face
again that he had once seen as of an angel from heaven sent to
save his life. He said abundance of very handsome things, as a
well-bred Spaniard always knows how; and then beckoning to the
person that attended him, bade him go and call out his comrades.
He then asked me if I would walk to my old habitation, where he
would give me possession of my own house again, and where I
should see there had been but mean improvements; so I walked
along with him: but, alas! I could no more find the place again
than if I had never been there; for they had planted so many
trees, and placed them in such a posture, so thick and close to one
another, and in ten years’ time they were grown so big that in
short the place was inaccessible, except by such windings and blind
ways as they themselves only, who made them, could find.

I asked them what put them upon all these fortifications? He
told me I would say there was need enough of it, when they had
given me an account how they had passed their time since their
THE SPANIARD’S STORY. 898

arriving in the island, especially after they had the misfortune to
find that I was gone. He told me he could not but have some
satisfaction in my good fortune when he heard that I was gone
away in a good ship, and to my satisfaction; and that he had
oftentimes a strong persuasion that one time or other he should
see me again. But nothing that ever befell him in his life, he said,
was so surprising and afflicting to him at first as the disappoint-
ment he was under when he came back to the island and found I
was not there.

As to the three barbarians (so he called them) that were left
behind, and of whom he said he had a long story to tell me, the
Spaniards all thought themselves much better among the savages,
only that their number was so small. ‘ And,” says he, “ had
they been strong enough, we had been all long ago in purgatory ;”
and with that he crossed himself on the breast. “ But, sir,” says
he, “I hope you will not be displeased when I shall tell you how,
foreed by necessity, we were obliged, for our own preservation, to
disarm them and make them our subjects, who would not be con-
tent with being moderately our masters, but would be our mur-
derers.” T answered I was heartily afraid of it when I left them
there; and nothing troubled me at my parting from the island
but that they were not come back, that I might have put them in
possession of everything first, and left the other in a state of sub-
jection, as they deserved. But if they had reduced them to it, I
was very glad, and should be very far from finding any fault with
it; for I knew they were a parcel of refractory, ungoverned villains,
and were fit for any manner of mischief.

While I was saying this, came the man whom he had sent back,
and with him eleven men more. In the distress they were in it
was impossible to guess what nation they were of; but he made
all clear both to them and to me. First, he turned to me, and
pointing to them, said, “ These, sir, are some of the gentlemen
who owe their lives to you;” and then, turning to them, and
pointing to me, he let them know who I was; upon which they
all came up one by one, not as if they had been sailors and ordi-
nary fellows and I the like, but really as if they had been am-
bassadors of noblemen and Ia monarch or a great conqueror.
394 THE SPANIARD’S STORY,

Their behaviour was to the last degree obliging and courteous, and
yet mixed with a manly, majestic gravity, which very well became
them; and, in short, they had so much more manners than I that
I scarce knew how to receive their civilities, much less how to
return them in kind.

The history of their coming to, and conduct in, the island, after
my going away, is so very remarkable, and has so many incidents
which the former part of my relation will help to understand, and
which will in most of the particulars refer to that account T have
already given, that I cannot but commit them with great delight
to the reading of those that come after me.

I shall no longer trouble the story with a relation in the first
person, which will put me to the expense of ten thousand “ said T's”

,

and “said he’s,” and “he told me’s”’ and ‘‘J told him’s,” and the
like; but I shall collect the facts historically as near as I can
gather them out of my memory from what they related to me, and
from what I met with in my conversing with them and with the
place.

In order to do this succinctly, and as intelligibly as I can, 1
must go back to the circumstance in which I left the island, and
in which the persons were of whom [am to speak. And first, it
is necessary to repeat that I had sent away Friday’s father and the
Spaniard, the two whose lives [had rescued from the savages : I
say, I had sent them away in a large canoe to the main, as I then
thought it, to fetch over the Spaniard’s companions, whom he had
left behind him, in order to save them from the like calamity that
he had been in; and in order to succour them for the present, and
that if possible we might together find some way for our deliver-
ance afterward.

When I sent them away, I had no visible appearance of, or the
least room to hope for, my own deliverance, any more than I had
twenty years before; much less had I any fore-knowledge of what
afterwards happened, I mean of an English ship coming on shore
there to fetch me off; and it could not but be a very great surprise
to them when they came back, not only to find that I was gone,
but to find three strangers left on the spot, possessed of all that
I had left behind me, which would otherwise have been their own.
THE SHIPWRECKED SPANIARDS. 896

The first thing, however, which I inquired into, that [ might
begin where I left off, was of their own part; and [ desired
he would give me a particular account of his voyage back to his
countrymen with the boat, when [sent him to fetch them over.
He told me there was little variety in that part, for nothing re-
markable happened to them on the way, they having very calm
weather and w smooth sea; for his countrymen it could not be
doubted, he said, but that they were overjoyed to see him. (It
seems he was the principal man among them, the captain of the
vessel they had been shipwrecked in having been dead some time).
They were, he said, the more surprised to see him, because they
knew that he was fallen into the hands of the savages, who, they
were satisfied, would devour him as they did all the rest of the
prisoners; that when he told them the story of his deliverance,
and in what manner he was furnished for carrying them away, it
was like a dream to them; and their astonishment, they said, was
something like that of Joseph’s brethren, when he told them who
he was, and told them the story of his exaltation in Pharaoh's
court. But when he showed them the arms, the powder, the ball,
and the provisions that he brought them for their journey or
voyage, they were restored to themselves, took a just share of the
joy of their deliverance, and immediately prepared to come away
with him.

Their first business was to get canoes; and in this they were
obliged not to stick so much upon the honest part of it, but to
trespass upon their friendly savages, and to borrow two large
canoes, or periaguas, on pretence of going out a fishing or for
pleasure.

In these they came away the next morning. It seems they
wanted no time to get themselves ready, for they had no baggage,
neither clothes nor provisions, nor anything in the world but what
they had on them, and a few roots to eat, of which they used to
make their bread.

They were in all three weeks absent, and in that time, unluckily
for them, I had the occasion offered for my escape, as I mentioned
in my other Part, and to get off from the island, leaving three of
the most impudent, hardened, ungoverned, disagreeable villains
396 BREAKING OUT OF STRIFE.

behind me, that any man could desire to meet with, to the poor
Spaniards’ great grief and disappointment, you may be sure.

The only just thing the rogues did was, that when the Spaniards
came on shore they gave my letter to them, and gave them pro-
visions and other relief, as I had ordered them to do; also they
eave them the long paper of directions which T had left with them,
containing the particular methods which I took for managing
every part of my life there; the way how I baked my bread, bred
up tame goats, and planted my corn; how I cured my grapes,
made my pots; and, in a word, everything I did. All this being
written down, they gave to the Spaniards, two of whom under-
stood Knelish well enough; nor did they refuse to accommodate
the Spaniards with everything else, for they agreed very well for
some time. They gave them an equal admission into the house
or cave; and they began to live very sociably. And the head
Spaniard, who had seen pretty much of my methods, and Friday’s
father together, managed all their affairs: for as for the Knglish-
men, they did nothing but ramble about the island, shoot parrots,
and eatch tortoises; and when they came home at night, the
Spaniards provided their suppers for them.

The Spaniards would have been satisfied with this, would the
other but have Jet them alone; which, however, they could not
find in their hearts to do long, but, like the dog in the manger,
they would not eat themselves, and would not Jet others eat neither.
The differences, nevertheless, were at first but trivial, and such as
are not worth relating; but at last it broke out into open war,
and it began with all the rudeness and insolence that can be
imagined, without reason, without provocation, contrary to nature,
and indeed to common sense; and though it is true the first rela-
tion of it came from the Spaniards themselves, whom I may call
the accusers, yet when I came to examine the fellows, they could
not deny a word of it.

But before I come to the particulars of this part, I must supply
a defect in my former relation; and this was, that I forgot to set
down among the rest, that just as we were weighing the anchor to
set sail, there happened a little quarrel on board our ship, which
1 was afraid once would have turned to a second mutiny; nor was
THE MUTINEERS ESCAPE. 897

it appeased till the captain, rousing up his courage and taking us
all to his assistance, parted them by force, and making two of the
most refractory fellows prisoners, he laid them in irons; and as
they had been active in the former disorders, and let fall some
dangerous ugly words the second time, he threatened to carry them
in irons to Hngland, and have them hanged there for mutiny and
running away with the ship.

This, it seems, though the captain did not intend to do it,
frighted some other men in the ship, and some of them had put it
into the heads of the rest that the captain only gave them good
words for the present, till they should come to some English port,
and that then they should be all put into jail, and tried for their
lives.

The mate got intelligence of this, and acquainted us with it;
upon which it was desired that I, who still passed for a great man
among them, should go down with the mate and satisfy the men,
and tell them that they might be assured, if they behaved well the
rest of the voyage, all they had done for the time past should be
pardoned. So I went, and after passing my honour’s word to
them, they appeared easy; and the more so, when I caused the
two men who were in irons to be released and forgiven.

But this mutiny had brought us to an anchor for that night, the
wind also falling calm. Next morning, we found that our two
men who had been laid in irons had stole each of them a musket
and some other weapons, what powder or shot they had we know
not, and had taken the ship’s pinnace, which was not yet hauled
up, and run away with her to their companions in roguery on
shore.

As soon as we found this, I ordered the long-boat on shore, with
twelve men and the mate, and away they went to seek the rogues;
but they could neither find them nor any of the rest, for they all
fled into the woods when they saw the boat coming on shore. The
mate was once resolved, in justice to their roguery, to have de-
stroyed their plantations, burned all the household stuff and furni-
ture, and left them to shift without it; but having no order, he
let it all alone, left everything as they found it, and bringing the
pinnace away, came on board without them.
898 AN ENGLISH COLONY.

These two men made their number five, but the other three
villains were so much wickeder than these, that after they had
been two or three days together, they turned their two new
comers out of doors to shift for themselves, and would have nothing
to do with them, nor could they for a good while be persuaded to
give them any food; as for the Spaniards, they were not yet come.

When the Spaniards came first on shore, the business began to
go forward. The Spaniards would have persuaded the three Eng-
lish brutes to have taken in their two countrymen again, that, as
they said, they might be all one family; but they would not hear
of it. So the two poor fellows lived by themselves; and finding
nothing but industry and application would make them live com-
fortably, they pitched their tents on the north shore of the island,
but a little more on the west, to be out of the danger of the savages,
who always landed on the east parts of the island,

Here they built them two huts, one to lodge in, and the other
to lay up their magazines and stores in, and the Spaniards having
given them some corn for seed, and especially some of the pease
which I had left them, they dug, and planted, and enclosed, after
the pattern [had sct for them all, and began to live pretty well.
Their first crop of corn was on the ground, and though it was but
a little bit of land which they had dug up at first, having had but
a little time, yet it was enough to relieve them, and find them
with bread and other eatables; and one of the fellows being the
cook’s mate of the ship, was very ready at making soup, puddings,
and other such preparations, as the rice and the milk, and such
little flesh as they got, furnished him to do.

They were going on in this little thriving posture, when the
three unnatural rogues, their own countrymen too, in mere humour
and to insult them, came and bullied them, and told them the
island was theirs; that the governor (meaning me) had given them
possession of it, and nobody else had any right to it; and that
they should build no houses upon their ground, unless they would
pay them rent for them.

The two men thought they had jested at first, asked them to
come in and sit down, and see what fine houses they were that
they had built, and tell them what rent they demanded; and one
THE THREE CONFEDERATES. 399

of them merrily told them, if they were ground-landlords, he hoped,
if they built tenements upon their land and made improvements,
they would, according to the custom of landlords, grant them a
long lease, and bid them go fetch a scrivener to draw the writings.
One of the three, swearing and raging, told them they should see
they were not in jest; and going to a little place at a distance,
where the honest men had made a fire to dress their victuals, he
takes a firebrand and claps it to the outside of their hut, and very
fairly set it on fire;
and it would have
been all burned
down in a few
minutes, if one of
the two had not
ran to the fellow,
thrust him away,
and trod the fire
out with his feet,
and that not with-
out some difficulty
too.

The fellow was
in such a rage at
the honest man’s

 

thrusting him a- “yh
way, that he re- ‘Ce TRODE THE FIRE OUT WITH HIS FEET, (AND THAT
tuned upon sae NOT WITHOUT SOME DIFFICULTY,
with a pole he had in his hand, and, had not the man avoided
the blow very nimbly, and run into the hut, he had ended his
days at once. His comrade, seeing the danger they were both in,
ran in after him; and immediately they came both out with their
muskets, and the man that was first struck at with the pole
knocked the fellow down, that had begun the quarrel, with the
stock of his musket, and that before the other two could come to
help him; and then, seeing the rest come at them, they stood to-
gether, and presenting the other ends of their pieces to them, bade
them stand off.

(284) 26
400 HONESTY VERSUS DISHONESTY,

The other had firearms with them too, but one of the two honest
men, bolder than his comrade, and made desperate by his danger,
told them if they offered to move hand or foot they were dead
men, and boldly commanded them to lay down their arms. Thoy
aid not indeed lay down their arms, but seeing him so resolute it
brought them to a parley, and they consented to take their wounded
man with them and be gone—and indeed it seems the fellow was
wounded sufficiently with the blow. However, they were much
in the wrong, since they had the advantage, that they did not dis-
arm them effectually, as they might have done, and have gone
immediately to the Spaniards and given them an account how
the rogues had treated them; for the three villains studied nothing
but revenge, and every day gave them some intimation that they
did so.

But not to crowd this part with an account of the lesser part of
their rogueries, such as treading down their corn, shooting three
young kids and a she-goat, which the poor men had got to breed
up tame tor their stores; and, in a word, plaguing them night and
day in this manner, it forced the two men to such a desperation,
that they resolved to fight them all three the first time they had a
fair opportunity. In order to this, they resolved to go to the
castle, as they called it, that was my old dwelling, where the three
rogues and the Spaniards all lived together, at that time intending
to have a fair battle, and the Spaniards should stand by to see fair
play. So they got up in the morning before day, and came to the
place, and called the Englishmen by their names, telling a
Spaniard that answered that they wanted to speak with them.

It happened that the day before, two of the Spaniards having
heen in the woods, had seen one of the two Englishmen, whom, for
distinction, I call the honest men, and he had made a sad com-
plaint to the Spaniards of the barbarous usage they had met with
from their three countrymen, and how they had ruined their
plantation and destroyed their corn that they had laboured so hard
to bring forward, and killed the milch-goat and their three kids,
which was all they had provided for their sustenance; and that if
he and his friends, meaning the Spaniards, did not assist them
again, they should be starved. When the Spaniards came home
ENGLISH AND SPANIARDS, 401

at night, and they were all at supper, he took the freedom to
reprove the three Knglishmen, though in very gentle and mannerly
terms, and asked them, “ How they could be so cruel, they being
harmless inoffensive fellows, and that they were only putting them-
selves in a way to subsist by their labour, and that it had cost
them a great deal of pains to bring things to such perfection as
they had ?”

One of the Englishmen returned very briskly, “ What had they
to do there? ‘That they came on shore without leave, and they
should not plant or build upon the island; it was none of their
ground,” Why,” says the Spaniard, very calmly, “ Seignior
Inglese, they must not starve.’ The Knglishman replied like a
true rough-hewn ‘Tarpaulin, “ They might starve...... they should
not plant nor build.” “ But what must they do, then, seiynior ?”
said the Spaniard, Another of the brutes returried, “ Do!......
They should be servants, and work for them.”  “ But how can
you expect that of them?” says the Spaniard, “that are not
bought with your money; you have no right to make them. ser-
vants.” The Huglishinan answered, “ ‘The islind was theirs, the
governor had given it to them, and no man had anything to do
there but themselves 3” and with that swore by his Maker “that
they would go and burn all their new huts, they should build none
upon their land.”

“ Why, seignior,” says the Spaniard, “ by the same rule we must
be your servants too.” ‘“ Ah,” says the bold dog, “and so you
shall, too, before we have done with you;” mixing two or three
oaths in the proper intervals of his speech. The Spaniard only
smiled at that, and made him no answer. Tlowever, this little
discourse had heated them, and starting up, one says to the
other (I think it was he they called Will Atkins), “ Come,
Jack, let us go and have t’other brush with them ; we’ll demolish
their castle, Pl warrant you, they shall plant no colony in our
dominions.”

Upon this they went all trooping away, with every man a gun, a
pistol, and a sword, and muttered some insolent things among
themselves of what they would do to the Spaniards too, when
opportunity offered; but the Spaniards, it seems, did not so per-
402 THE BIRDS ARE FL.

fectly understand them as to know all the , rticulars; only that
in general they threatened them hard for taki. g the two English-
men’s part.

Whether they went, or how they bestowed their time that even-
ing, the Spaniards said, they did not know; but it seems they
wandered about the country part of the night, and then lying
down in the place which I used to call my bower, they were weary,
and overslept themselves. ‘The case was this: they had resolved to
stay till midnight, and so to take the two poor men when they were
asleep; and, as they acknowledged afterwards, intended to set fire
to their huts while they were in them, and either burn them in
them, or murder them as they came out; and as malice seldom
sleeps very sound, it was very strange they should not have been
kept waking.

However, as the two men had also a design upon them, as I
have said, though a much fairer one than that of burning and
murdering, it happened, and very luckily for them all, that they
were up and gone abroad before the bloody-minded rogues came to
their huts.

When they came there and found the men gone, Atkins, who,
it seems, was the forwardest man, called out to his comrades,
“Ha, Jack! here’s the nest, but the birds are flown.” They
mused a while to think what should be the occasion of their
being abroad so soon, and suggested presently that the Spaniards
had given them notice of it; and with that they shook hands, and
swore to one another that they would be revenged of the Spaniards.
As soon as they had made this bloody bargain, they fell to work
with the poor men’s habitation. They did not set fire indeed to
anything, but they pulled down both their little houses, and pulled
them so limb from limb that they left not the least stick stand-'
ing, or scarce any sign on the ground where they stood. They
tore all their little collected household stuff in pieces, and threw
everything about in such a manner, that the poor men afterwards —
found some of their things a mile off of their habitation.

When they had done this, they pulled up all the young trees
the poor ‘men had planted, pulled up an enclosure they had made
to secure their cattle and their corn, and in a word, sacked and
TWO AGAINST THREE, 403

 

“

THEY PULLED UP AN ENCLOSURE THUY TAD MADE,”"

plundered everything as completely as a hoard of Tartars would
have done.

‘The two men were at this juncture gone to find them out, and
had resolved to fight them wherever they had been, though they
were but two to three. So that had they met, there certainly
would have been bloodshed among them, for they were all very
stout resolute fellows, to give them their due.

But Providence took more care to keep them asunder than they
themselves could do to meet; for, as if they had dogged one
another, when the three were gone thither, the two were here;
and afterwards when the two went back to find them, the three
were come to the old habitation again;—we shall see their different
conduct presently. When the three came back, like furious
creatures, flushed with the rage which the work they had been
about had put them into, they came up to the Spaniards and told
them what they had done, by way of scoff and bravado; and one
of them, stepping up tv one of the Spaniards, as if they had been a
couple of boys at play, takes hold of his hat, as it was upon his
404 THE MUTINEERS DISARMED,

head, and giving it a twirl about, sneering in his face, says he te
him, “ And you, Seignior Jack Spaniard, shall have the same sauce,
if you do not mend your manners.” "Phe Spaniard, who though a
quiet civil man, was as brave as a man could be desired to be, and
withal a strong well-made man, looked steadily at him for a good
while, and then, having no weapon in his hand, stepped gravely up
to him, and with one blow of his fist knocked him down. as an ox
is felled with a pole-axe; at which one of the rogues, insolent at
the first, fired his pistol at the Spaniard immediately. Te missed
his bedy indeed, for the bullets went through his hair, but one of
them touched the tip of his ear, and he bled pretty much. The
blood made the Spaniard believe he was more hurt than he really
was, and that put him into some heat: for before, he acted all ina
perfect calm; but now, resolving to go through with his work, he
stooped to take the fellow’s musket whom he had knocked down,
and was just going to shoot the man who had fired at him, when
the rest of the Spaniards, being in the eave, came out, and calling
to him not to shoot, they stepped in, secured the other two, and
took their arms from them,

When they were thus disarmed, and found they had made all the
Spaniards their enemies, as well as their own countrymen, they
began to cool, and giving the Spaniards better words, would have
had their arms again. But the Spaniards, considering the feud that
was between them and the other two Knelishmen, and that it would
be the best method they could take to keep them from killing one
another, told them they would do them no harm, and if they would
live peaceably, they would be very willing to assist and sociate
with them, as they did before; but that they could not think of
giving them their arms again while they appeared so resolved to
do mischief with them to their own countrymen, and had even
threatened them all to make them their servants.

The rogues were now no more capable to hear reason than to act
reason, and being refused their arms they went raving away and
raging like madmen, threatening what they would do, though they
had no firearms. But the Spaniards, despising their threatening,
told them they should take care how they offered any injury to
their plantation or cattle; for if they did, they would shoot them as
AN EQUITABLE DECISION, 406

they would do ravenous beasts, wherever they found them; and if
they fell into their hands alive, they should certainly be hanged.
However, this was far from cooling them; but away they went,
raging and swearing like furies of hell. As soon as they were
gone, came back the two men, in passion and rage enough also,
though of another kind ; for having been at their plantation, and
finding it all demolished and destroyed as above, it will easily be
supposed they had provocation enough. They could scarce have
room to tell their tale, the Spaniards were so eager to tell them
theirs; and it was strange enough to find three men thus bully
nineteen, and receive no punishment at all.

The Spaniards indeed despised them, and especially, having thus
disarmed them, made light of all their threatenings ; but the two
Knglishmen resolved to have their remedy against them, what pain
soever it cost to find them out.

3ut the Spaniards interposed here too, and told them that as
they had disarmed them they could not consent that they (the
two) shonld pursue them with firearms, and perhaps kill them ;
“ But,” said the grave Spaniard, who was their governor, “ we will
endeavour to make them do you justice if you will leave it to us ;
for as there is no doubt but they will come to us again when their
passion is over, being not able to subsist without our assistance, we
promise you to make no peace with them, without having a full
satisfaction for you. Upon this condition we hope you will promise
to use no violence with them, other than in your own defence.”

The two Englishmen yielded to this very awkwardly and with
great reluctance; but the Spaniards protested they did it only
to keep them from bloodshed, and to make all easy at last;
“Bor,” said they, “we are not so many of us; here is room enough
for us all, and it is great pity we should not be all good friends.”
At length they did consent, and waited for the issue of the thing,
living for some days with the Spaniards, for their own habitation
was destroyed.

In about five days’ time, the three vagrants, tired with wander-
ing, and almost starved with hunger, having chiefly lived on turtles’
eggs all that while, came back to the grove, and finding my
Spaniard, who, as T have said, was the governor, and two more
406 PEACK IS CONCLUDED,

with him walking by the side of the ereek, they came up in a very
submissive, humble manner, and begged to be received again into
the family. ‘The Spaniards used them civilly, but told them they
had acted so unnaturally by their countrymen, and so very grossly
by them (the Spaniards), that they could not come to any conclusion
without consulting the two Englishmen and the rest; but, how-
ever, they would go to them and discourse about it, and they should
know in half an hour. Tt may be guessed that they were very hard
put to it: for it seems, as they were to wait this half hour for an
answer, they begged he would send them out some bread in the
meantime; which he did, and sent them at the same time a large
piece of goat's flesh and a broiled parrot, which they ate very
heartily, for they were hungry enough,

After half an hour’s consultation they were called in, and a long
debate had among them, their two countrymen charging them with
the ruin of all their labour, and a design to murder them—all
which they owned before, and therefore could not deny now,
Upon the whole, the Spaniard acted the moderator between them,
and as they had obliged the two Hnglishmen not to hurt the three
while they were naked and unarmed, so they now obliged the three
to go and build their fellows two huts, one of the same and the
other of larger dimensions, than they were before; to fence their
ground again where they had pulled up the fences, plant trees in
the room of those pulled up, dig up the land again for planting
corn, where they had spoiled it; and in a word, to restore every-
thing in the same state they found it, as near as they could, for
entirely it could not be, the season for the corn and the growth of
the trees and hedges not being possible to be recovered.

Well, they submitted to all this, and as they had plenty of pro-
visions given them all the while, they grew very orderly, and the
whole society began to live pleasantly and agreeably together, only
that these three fellows could never be persuaded to work, I mean
for themselves, except now and then a little, just as they pleased.
However, the Spaniards told them plainly, that if they would but
live sociably and friendly together, and study in the whole the
good of the plantation, they would be content to work for them,
and let them walk about and be as idle as they pleased; and thus,
A FRESH ALARM. 407

having lived pretty well together for a month or two, the Spaniards
gave them arms again, and gave them liberty to go abroad with
them as before.

It was not above a week after they had these arms and went
abroad, but the ungrateful creatures began to be insolent and
troublesome as before; but, however, an accident happening pre-
sently upon this, which endangered the safety of them all, they
were obliged to lay by all private resentments, and look to the
preservation of their lives.

It happened one night that the Spaniard governor, as I call
him, that is to say, the Spaniard whose life I had saved, who was
now the captain or leader or governor of the rest, found himself
very uneasy in the night, and could by no means get any sleep.
He was perfectly well in body, as he told me the story, only
found his thoughts tumultuous, his mind run upon men fighting
and killing of oue another, but was broad awake, and could not by
any means get any sleep. In short, he lay a great while, but
growing more and more uneasy, he resolved to rise. As they lay,
being so many of them, upon goat-skins, laid thick upon such
couches and pads as they made for themselves, not in ham-
mocks and ship beds, as I did, who was but one, so they had little
to do, when they were willing to rise, but to get up upon their
feet, and perhaps put on a coat, such as it was, and their pumps,
and they were ready for going any way that their thoughts guided
them.

Being thus gotten up he looked out, but being dark he could
see little or nothing. And besides, the trees which I had planted,
as in my former account is described, and which were now grown
tall, intercepted his sight, so that he could only look up and see
that it was a clear starlight night; and hearing no noise, he re-
turned and laid him down again. But it was all one, he could
not sleep, nor could he compose himself to anything like rest; but
his thoughts were to the last degree uneasy, and yet he knew not
for what,

Having made some noise with rising and walking about, going
out and coming in, another of them waked, and calling, asked,
Who it was that was up? The governor told him how it had
408 ARRIVAL OF THE SAVAGES,

heen with him. Say you so,” says the other Spaniard. “ Such
things are not to be slighted, I assure you; there is certainly some
mischief working,” says he, “near us.” And presently he asked
him, “ Where are the Englishmen?” ‘Chey are all in their huts,”
says he, “safe enough.” Tt seems the Spaniards had kept. posses-
sion of the main apartment, and had made a place where the three
Knglishmen, since their last mutiny, always quartered by them-
selves, and could not come at the rest.  “ Well,” says the
Spaniard, © there is something in it, 1 am persuaded, from my own
experience, I am satisfied our spirits embodied have a converse
with, and receive intelligence {rom the spirits unembodied and
inhabiting the invisible world; and this friendly notice is given
for our advantage, if we know how to make use of it. Come,”
says he, “let us go out and look abroad; and if we find nothing at
all in it to justify the trouble, Twill teil you a story to the pur-
pose, that shall convinee you of the justice of my proposing it.”

In a word, they went out to go up to the top of the hill, where
T used to go. But they being strong and in good company, not
alone, as | was, used none of my caution to go up by the Jadder,
and then pulling it up after them, to go up a second stage to the
top, but were going round through the grove unconcerned and
unwary, when they were surprised with seeing a light, as of fire,
avery little way off from them, and hearing the voices of men—
not of one, or two, but of a great number.

In all the discoveries Thad made of the savages landing on the
island, it was my constant care to prevent. them making the least
discovery of there being any inhabitant upon the place. And
when by any occasion they came to know it, they felt it so effeet-
ually, that they that got away were scarce able to give any account
of it, for we disappeared as soon as possible. Nor did ever any
that had seen me escape to tell any one else, except it were the
three savages in our last encounter, who jumped into the boat, of
whom I mentioned that L was afraid they should go home and
bring more help.

Whether it was the consequence of the escape of those men that
so great a number came now together, or whether they came
ignorantly, and by accident, on their usual bloody errand, they
WHAT SHALL BE DONE? 40S

could not, it seems, understand, But whatever it was, it had been
their business either to have concealed themselves as not to have
seen them at all, much less to have let the savages have seen that
there were any inhabitants in the place; or to have fallen upon
them so effectually as that not a man of them should have escaped,
which could only have been by getting in between them and their
boats. But this presence of mind was wanting to them, which
was the ruin of their tranquillity for a great while.

We need not. doubt but that the governor and the man with
him, surprised with this sight, ran back immediately and raised
their fellows, giving them an account of the imminent danger they
were all in; and they again as readily took the alarm. But it
was impossible to persuade them to stay close within where they
were, but that they must run all out to see how things stood.

While it was dark, indeed, they were well enough, and they
had opportunity enough for some hours to view them by the light
of three fires they had made at a distance from one another, What
they were doing they knew not, and what to do themselves they
knew not: for, first, the enemy were too many; and secondly
they did not keep together, but were divided into several parties,
and were on shore in several places.

The Spaniards were in no small consternation at this sight ;
and as they found that the fellows ran straggling all over the
shore, they made no doubt but, first or last, some of them would
chop in upon their habitation, or upon some other place where
they would see the token of inhabitants. And they were in great
perplexity also for fear of their flock of goats, which would have
been little less than starving them if they should have been
destroyed. So the first thing they resolved upon was to despatch
three men away before it was light, namely, two Spaniards and
one Englishman, to drive all the goats away to the great valley
where the cave was, and, if need were, to drive them into the very
cave itself.

Could they have seen the savages all together in one body, and
at any distance from their canoes, they resolved, if there had been
an hundred of them, to have attacked them; but that could not
be obtained, for they were some of them two miles off from the
410 OMINOUS TIDINGS.

other, and, as it appeared afterwards, were of two different
nations.

After having mused a great while on the course they should
take, and beaten their brains in considering their present cireum-
stances, they resolved at lasi, while it was dark, to send the old
savage, Mriday’s father, out as a spy, to learn, if possible, some-
thing concerning them, what they came for, and what they in-
tended todo. ‘The old man readily undertook it; and stripping
himself quite naked, as most of the savages were, away he went.
After he had been gone an hour or two, he brings word that he
had been among them undiscovered; that he found they were
two parties, and of two several nations, who had war with one
another, and had had a great battle in their own country; and
that both sides having had several prisoners taken in’ the fieht,
they were by mere chance landed all on the same island, for the
devouring their prisoners, and making merry. But their coming
so by chance to the same place had spoiled all their mirth; that
they were ina great rage at one another; and that they were so
near, that he believed they would fight again as soon as daylight
began to appear. But he did not perceive that they had any notion
of anybody's being on the island but themselves. He had hardly
made an end of telling his story, when they could perceive, by the
unusual noise they made, that the two little armies were engaged
in a bloody fight.

Friday's father used all the arguments he could to persuade our
people to lie close, and not be seen. Ie told them their safety
consisted in it; and that they had nothing to do but lie still, and
the savages would kill one another to their hands, and then the
rest would go away: and it was so to a tittle. But it was im-
possible to prevail, especially upon the Knglishmen; their curiosity
was so importunate upon their prudentials, that they must run
out and see the battle. However, they used some caution too;
namely, they did not go openly, just by their own dwelling, but
went further into the woods, and placed themselves to advantage,
where they might securely see them manage the fight, and, as they
thought, not to be seen by them; but it seems the savages did see
them, as we shall tind hereafter
A BATTLE AND A VICTORY, 41)

The battle was very fierce; and if I might believe the English:
men, one of them said he could perceive that some of them were
men of great bravery, of invincible spirit, and of great policy in
guiding the fight. The battle, they said, held two hours before
they could guess which party would be beaten. But then that
party which was nearest our people’s habitation began to appear
weakest; and after some time more some of them began to
fly; and this put our men again into a great consternation, lest
any of those that fled should run into the grove before their
dwelling for shelter, and thereby involuntarily discover the place ;
and that by consequence the pursuers should do the like in
search for them, Upon this they resolved that they would stand
armed within the wall, and whoever came into the grove they
showld sally out over the wall and kill them: so that, if possible,
not one should return to give an account of it. They ordered
also that it should be done with their swords, or by knocking
them down with the stock of the musket; but not by shooting
them, for fear of the noise.

As they expected, it fell out. Three of the routed army fled
for life, and, crossing the creek, ran directly into the place, not in
the least knowing whither they went, but running as into a thick
wood for shelter. The scout they kept to look abroad gave notice
of this within, with this addition, to our men’s great satisfaction,
namely, that the conquerors had not pursued them, or seen which
way they were gone. Upon this the Spaniard governor, a man of
humanity, would not suffer them to kill the three fugitives; but
sending three men out by the top of the hill, ordered them to go
round and come in behind them, surprise, and take them prisoners;
which was done. The residue of the conquered people fled to
their canoes, and got off to sea. The victors retired, and made no
pursuit, or very little; but drawing themselves into a body together,
gave two great screaming shouts, which they supposed was by way
of triumph; and so the fight ended. And the same day, about
three o’clock in the afternoon, they also marched to their canoes;
and thus the Spaniards had their island again free to themselves,

their fright was over, and they saw no savages in several yeara
after.
412 AN INTERVAL OF TRANQUILUITY.

After they were all gone, the Spaniards came out of their den;
and viewing the field of battle, they found about two-and-thirty
dead men upon the spot. Some were killed with great long
arrows, some of which were found sticking in their bodies; but
most of them were killed with their great wooden swords, sixteen
or seventeen of which they found in the field of battle, and as
many bows, with a great many arrows. "These swords were strange
great unwieldy things, and they must be very strong men that
used them. Most of those men that were killed with them had
their heads mashed to pieees, as we may say, or as we eall it ih
English, their brains knoeked out; and several their arms and
legs broken: so that it is evident they fight with inexpressible
rage and fury. We found not one wounded man that was not
stone dead; for either they stay by their enemy till they have
quite killed him, or they carry all the wounded men that are not
quite dead away with them,

This deliverance tamed our Mnelishmen for a great while,
The sight had filled them with horror; and the consequences
appeared terrible to the last degree, even to them, if ever they
should fall into the hands of those creatures, who would not only
kill them as enemies, but kill them for food, as we kill our cattle.
And they professed to me, that the thoughts of being eaten up like
beef or mutton, though it was supposed it was not to be till they
were dead, had something in it so horrible, that it nauseated their
very stomachs, made them sick when they thought of it, and filled
their minds with such unusual terror, that they were not them-
selves for some weeks after.

This, as T said, tamed even the three Mnglish brutes T have been
speaking of; and for a great while after they were very tractable,
and went about the common business of their whole society well
enough; planted, sowed, reaped, and began to be all naturalized
to the country. But some time after this they fell all into such
measures as brought them into a great deal of trouble.

They had taken three prisoners, as [had observed ; and these
three being lusty stout young fellows, they made them servants,
and taught them to work for them; and as slaves they did well
enough, But they did not take their measures with them as T did
SOME MEASURES OF PRUDENCE. 418

by my man Friday, namely, to begin with them upon the prin-
ciple of having saved their lives, and then instruct them in the
rational principles of life, much less of religion, civilizing and
reducing them by kind usage and affectionate arguings; but as
they gave them their food every day, so they gave them their
work too, and kept them fully employed in drudgery enough. But
they failed in this by it, that they never had them to assist them
and fight for them, as [had my man Friday, who was as true to
me as the very flesh upon my bones.

But to come to the family part. Being all now good friends,
for common danger, as I said above, had effectually reconciled
them, they began to consider their general circumstances. And
the first thing that came under their consideration was, whether,
seeing the savages particularly haunted that side of the island, and
that there were more remote and retired parts of it equally adapted
to their way of living, and manifestly to their advantage, they
should not rather remove their habitation, and plant in some more
proper place for their safety, and especially for the security of
their cattle and corn ?

Upon this, after long debate, it was concluded that they would
not remove their habitation; because that, some time or other,
they thought they might hear from their governor again (meaning
me); and if I should send any one to seek them, I should be sure
to direct them to that side; where, if they should find the place
demolished, they would conclude the savages had killed us all,
and we were gone, and so our supply would go too.

But as to their corn and cattle, they agreed to remove them into
the valley where my cave was, where the land was as proper for
both, and where, indeed, there was land enough. However, upon
second thoughts, they altered one part of that resolution too, and
resolved only to remove part of their cattle thither, and plant part
of their corn there; and so if one part was destroyed, the other
might be saved. And one part of prudence they used, which it
was very well they did; namely, that they never trusted those
three savages which they had prisoners with knowing anything of
the plantation they had made in that valley, or of any cattle: they
had there; much less of the cave there, which they kept, in case
414 A NATURAL FORTIFICATION,

of necessity, as a safe retreat, and whither they carried also the
two barrels of powder which I had sent them at my coming
away.

But, however, they resolved not to change their habitation;
yet they agreed, that as I had carefully covered it, first with a
wall or fortification, and then with a grove of trees, so, seeing
their safety consisted entirely in their being concealed, of which
they were now fully convinced, they set to work to cover and
conceal the place yet more effectually than before. To this pur-
pose, as I had planted trees (or rather thrust in stakes, which in
time all grew up to be trees) for some good distance before the
entrance into my apartment, they went on in the same manner,
and filled up the rest of that whole space of ground, from the
trees I had set quite down to the side of the creek, where, as I
said, I landed my floats, and even in the very ooze where the tide
flowed, not so much as leaving any place to land, or any sign
that there had been any landing thereabout. The stakes also
being of a wood very forward to grow, as I have noted formerly,
they took care to have generally very much larger and taller than
those which I had planted; and as they grew apace, so they
planted them so very thick and close together, that when they had
been three or four years grown there was no piercing with the eye
any considerable way into the plantation. And as for that part
which I had planted, the trees were grown as thick as a man’s
thigh. And among them they placed so many other short ones,
and so‘thick, that, in a word, it stood like a palisado a quarter of
a mile thick. And it.was next to impossible to penetrate it but
with a little army to cut it all down; for a little dog could hardly
get between the trees, they stood so close.

But this was not all, for they did the same by all the ground to
the right hand and to the left, and round even to the top of the
hill, leaving no way, not so much as for themselves to come out,
but by the ladder placed up to the side of the hill, and then lifted
up, and placed again from the first stage up to the top; which
ladder when it was taken down, nothing but what had wings or
witchcraft to assist it could come at them.

This was excellently well contrived; nor was it less than what
THE INDIANS AGAIN. 416

they afterwards found occasion for: which served to convince me
that as human prudence has the authority of Providence to justify
it, so it has, doubtless, the direction of Providence to set it to
work, And would we listen carefully to the voice of it, I am
fully persuaded we might prevent many of the disasters which our
lives are now, by our own negligence, subjected to. But this by
the way.

I return to the story. They lived two years after this in perfect
retirement, and had no more visits from the savages. They had,
indeed, an alarm given them one morning, which put them into a
great consternation ; for some of the Spaniards being out early one
morning on the west side, or rather the end of the island (which,
by the way, was that end where I never went, for fear of being
discovered),-they were surprised with seeing above twenty canoes
of Indians just coming on shore!

They made the best of their way home, in hurry enough; and
giving the alarm to their comrades, they kept close all that day
and the next, going out only at night to make observation. But
they had the good luck to be mistaken ; for wherever the savages
went, they did not land at that time in the island, but pursued
some other design.

And now they had another broil with the three Englishmen ;
one of which, a most turbulent fellow, being in a rage at one of
the three slaves which I had mentioned they had taken, because
the fellow had not done something right which he bid him do, and
seemed a little intractable in his showing him, drew a hatchet out
of a frog-belt in which he wore it by his side, and fell upon the
poor savage, not to correct him, but to kill him. One of the
Spaniards who was by, seeing him give the fellow a barbarous cut
with the hatchet, which he aimed at his head, but struck into his
shoulder, so that he thought he had cut the poor creature’s arm
off, ran to him, and entreating him not to murder the poor man,
clapped in between him.and the savage to prevent the mischief.

The fellow, being enraged the more at this, struck at the
Spaniard with his hatchet, and swore he would serve him as he
intended to serve the savage; which the Spaniard perceiving,

avoided the blow, and with a shovel which he had in his hand (for
(284) 27
416 AN INTERNAL TROUBLE.

they were all working in the field about their corn-land) knocked
the brute down. Another of the Englishmen, running at the same
time to help his comrade, knocked the Spaniard down; and then
two Spaniards more came in to help their man, and a third
Mnglishman fell in upon them. They had none of them any fire-
arms, or any other weapons but hatchets and other tools, except
this third Englishman; he had one of my old rusty cutlasses, with
which he made at the two last Spaniards, and wounded them both,
This fray set the whole family in an uproar, and more help coming
in, they took the three Englishmen prisoners. The next question
was what should be done with them. They had been so often
mutinous, and were so furious, so desperate, and so idle withal,
that they knew not what course to take with them; for they were
mischievous to the highest degree, and valued not what hurt they
did to any man; so that, in short, it was not safe to live with them,

The Spaniard who was governor told them in so many words,
that if they had been of his own country he would have langed
them, for all laws and all governors were to preserve society, and
those who were dangerous to the society ought to be expelled out
of it; but as they were Englishmen, and that it was to the generous
kindness of an Englishman that they all owed their preservation
and deliverance, he would use them with all possible lenity, and
would Jeave them to the judgment of the other two Knglishmen,
who were their countrymen.

One of the two honest Englishmen stood up and said they de-
sired it might not be left to them, “ For,” says he, Tam sure we
ought to sentence them to the gallows; ” and with that he gives
an account how Will Atkins, one of the three, had proposed to
have all the five Knglishmen join together and murder all the
Spaniards when they were in their sleep !

When the Spaniard governor heard this, he calls to William
Atkins, “ How, Seignior Atkins,” says he, “ would you murder us all?
What have you to say to that?’? That hardened villain was so
far from denying it that he said it was true, and swore if they
would not do it still before they had done with them. ‘ Well,
but, Seignior Atkins,” says the Spaniard,“ what have we done to you,
that you would kill us? And what would you get by killing us?
HOW THE MUTINEERS WERE SAVED. 417

And what must we do to prevent you killing us? Must we kill
you, or you will kill us? Why will you put us to the necessity
of this, Seignior Atkins?” says the Spaniard, very calm and
smiling,

Seignior Atkins was in such a rage at the Spaniard’s making a
jest of it, that had he not been held by three men, and withal had

“no weapons with him, it was thought he would have attempted to
have killed the Spaniard in the middle of all the company.

This hair-brained carriage obliged them to consider seriously
what was to be done. The two Englishmen and the Spaniard who
saved the poor savage was of the opinion they should hang one of
the three for an example to the rest, and that, particularly, it
should be he that had twice attempted to commit murder with his
hatchet; and indeed there was some reason to believe he had done
it, for the poor savage was in such a miserable condition with the
wound he had received, that it was thought he could not live.

But the governor Spaniard still said, “No; it was an Englishman
that had saved all their lives, and he would never consent to put
an Englishman to death, though he had murdered half of them;
nay,” he said, “if he had been killed himself by an Englishman, and
had time left to speak, it should be that they would pardon him.”

This was so positively insisted on by the governor Spaniard,
that there was no gainsaying it; and as merciful counsels are most
apt to prevail where they are so earnestly pressed, so they all came
into it. But then it was to be considered what should be done to
keep them from doing the mischief they designed; for all agreed,
governor and all, that means were to be used for preserving the
society from danger. After a long debate it was agreed, first, that
they should be disarmed, and not permitted to have either gun, or
powder, or shot, or sword, or any weapon; and should be turned
out of the society, and left to live where they would, and how they
would, by themselves; but that none of the rest, either Spaniards
or English, should converse with them, speak with them, or have
anything to do with them: that they should be forbid to come
within a certain distance of the place where the rest dwelt; and
that if they offered to commit any disorder, so as to spoil, burn,
kill, or destroy any of the corn, plantings, buildings, fences, or
418 A SECOND COLONY FOUNDED.

cattle belonging to the society, they should die without merey, and
they would shoot them wherever they could find them.

The governor, a man of great humanity, musing upon the sen-
tence, considered a little upon it, and turning to the two honest
Englishmen, said,“ Hold, you must reflect that it will be long ere
they can raise corn and cattle of their own, and they must not
starve. We must therefore allow them provisions.” So he caused
to be added, that they should have a proportion of corn given to
them to last them eight months, and for seed to sow, by which
time they might be supposed to raise some of their own; that they
should have six mileh-goats, four he-goats, and six kids given
them, as well for present subsistence as for a store; and that they
should have tools given them for their work in the fields, such as
six hatehets, an axe, a saw, and the like: but they should have
none of these tools or provisions unless they would swear solemnly
that they would not hurt or injure any of the Spaniards with them,
or of their fellow-Mnglishinen,

Thus they dismissed them the society, and turned them out to
shift for themselves. ‘They went away sullen and refractory, as
neither contented to go away nor to stay; but as there was no
remedy they went, pretending to go and choose a place where they
would settle themselves to plant and live by themselves, and some
provisions were given them, but no weapons,

About four or five days after, they came again for some victuals,
and gave the governor an account where they had pitched their
tents, and marked themselves out an habitation and plantation ;
and it was a very convenient place indeed, on the remotest part of
the island, north-east, much about the place where T landed in my
first voyage when T was driven out to sea, the Lord knows whither,
in my attempt to surround the island.

Hore they built themselves two handsome huts, and contrived
them in a manner like my first habitation, being close under the
side of a hill, having some trees growing already on three sides of
it, so that by planting others it would be very easily covered from
the sight, unless narrowly searched for. They desired some dried
goat skins for beds and covering, which were given them: and
upon giving their words that they would not disturb the rest, or
WEARY OF WELL-DOING. : 419

injure any of their plantations, they gave them hatchets and what
other tools they could spare; some pease, barley, and rice for sowing;
and, in a word, anything they wanted, but arms and ammunition.
'They lived in this separate condition about six months, and had
gotten in their first harvest, though the quantity was but small,
the parcel of land they had planted being but little; for, indeed,
having all their plantation to form, they had a great deal of work
upon their hands. And when they came to make boards, and pots,
and such things, they were quite out of their element, and could
make nothing of it; and when the rainy season came on, for want
of a cave in the earth they could not keep their grain dry, and it
was in great danger of spoiling. And this humbled them much ,
so they came and begged the Spaniards to help them, which they
very readily did, and in four days worked a great hole in the side
of the hill for them, big enough to secure their corn and other
things from the rain. But it was but a poor place at best com-
pared to mine, and especially as mine was then, for the Spaniards
had greatly enlarged it and made several new apartments in it.
About three quarters of a year after this separation, a new frolic
took these rogues, which, together with the former villany they
had committed, brought mischief enough upon them, and had very
near been the ruin of the whole colony. The three new sociates
began, it seems, to be weary of the laborious life they led, and
that without hope of bettering their circumstances; and a whim
took them, that they would make a voyage to the continent from
whence the savages came, and would try if they could not seize
upon some prisoners among the natives there, and bring them home,
so to make them do the laborious part of their work for them.
The project was not so preposterous, if they had gone no further ;
but they did nothing, and proposed nothing, but had either mis-
chief in the design or mischief in the event. And if I may give
my opinion, they scemed to be under a blast from Heaven ; for if
we will not allow a visible curse to pursue visible crimes, how
shall we reconcile the events of things with the Divine justice? It
was, certainly, an apparent vengeance on their crime of mutiny and
‘piracy that brought them to the state they were in; and as they
showed not the least remorse for the crime, but.added new villanies
420 BENT ON NEW ADVENTURES,

to it, such as, particularly, the piece of monstrous cruelty of
wounding a poor slave, because he did not, or perhaps could not,
understand to do what he was directed; and to wound him in such
a manner as, no question, made him a cripple all his life; and in
a place where no surgeon or medicine could be had for his cure:
and what was. still worse, the murderous intent, or, to do justice
to the crime, the intentional murder, for such to be sure it was, as
was afterwards the formed design they all laid to murder the
Spaniards in cold blood, and in their sleep,

But I leave observing, and return to the story, The three
fellows came down to the Spaniards one morning, and in very
humble terms desired to be admitted to speak with them. The
Spaniards very readily heard what they had to say, which was
this: That they were tired of living in the manner they did ;
that they were not handy enough to make the necessaries they
wanted ; and that, having no help, they found they should be
starved. But if the Spaniards would give them leave to take one
of the canoes which they came over in, and give them arms and
ammunition, proportioned for their defence, they would go over to
the main, and seek their fortune, and so deliver them from the
trouble of supplying them with any other provisions.

The Spaniards were glad enough to be rid of them, but yet
very honestly represented to them the certain destruction they
were running into; told them they had suffered such hardships
upon that very spot; that they could, without any spirit of pro-
pheey, tell them that they would be starved, or be murdered, and
bade them consider of it.

The men replied audaciously, they should be starved if they
stayed here, for they could not work, and would not work ; and
they could but be starved abroad; and if they were murdered,
there was an end of them, they had no wives or children to cry after
them; and in short, insisted importunately upon their demand,
declaring that they would go, whether they would give them any
arms or no.

The Spaniards told them, with great kindness, that if they were
resolved to go, they should not go like naked men, and be in no
condition to defend themselves; and that though they could ill
WHO ARE THE STRANGERS ? 421

spare their firearms, having not enough for themselves, yet they
would let them have two muskets, a pistol, and a cutlass, and each
mana hatchet, which they thought was sufficient for them.

Tn a word, they accepted the offer, and having baked them bread
enough to serve them a month, and given them as much goat’s
flesh as they could eat while it was sweet, and a great basketful of
dried grapes, a potful of fresh water, and a young kid alive to kill,
they boldly set out in a canoe for a voyage over the sea, where it
was at least forty miles broad.

The boat was indeed a large one, and would have very well
carried fifteen or twenty men; and, therefore, was rather too big
for them to manage. But as they had a fair breeze and the flood-
tide with them, they did well enough. They had made a mast of
a long pole, and a sail of four large goat skins dried, which they
had sewed or laced together ; and away they went, merrily enough;
the Spaniards called after them, ‘ Bon Veyajo;” and no man ever
thought of seeing them any more.

The Spaniards would often say to one another, and to the two
honest Englishmen who remained behind, how quietly and com-
lortably they lived now those three turbulent fellows were gone:
as for their ever coming again, that was the remotest thing from
their thoughts that could be imagined; when, behold, after two and
twenty days’ absence, one of the Englishmen being abroad upon
his planting-work, sees three strange men coming towards him at
a distance, with guns upon their shoulders !

Away runs the Englishman, as if he was bewitched, comes
frighted and amazed to the governor Spaniard, and tells him they
were all undone, for there were strangers landed upon the island,
he could not tell who. The Spaniard, pausing a while, says he to
him, “How do you mean, you cannot tell who? They are the
savages, to be sure.” ‘‘ No, no,” says the Englishman; “ they are
men in clothes, with arms.” “Nay, then,” says the Spaniard,
“why are you concerned? If they are not savages, they must be
friends, for there is no Christian nation upon earth but will do us
good rather than harm.”

While they were debating thus, comes the three Englishmen,
and standing without the wood, which was new planted, hallooed
422 FROM OVER THE SEA,

to them. They presently knew their voices, and so all the wonder
of that kind ceased. But now the admiration was turned upon
another question, namely, What could be the matter, and what
made them come back again ?

It was not long before they brought the men in, and inquiring
where they had been, and what they had been doing, they gave
them a fw account of their voyage ina few words, namely, that
they reached the land in two days, or something less, but finding
the people alarmed at their coming, and preparing with bows and
arrows to fight them, they durst not go on shore, but sailed on to
the northward six or seven hours, till they came to a great opening,
by which they perceived that the land they saw from our island
was not the main, but an island: that entering that opening of the
sea, they saw another island on the right hand north, and several
more west; and being resolved to land somewhere, they put over
to one of the islands which lay west, and went boldly on shore:
that they found the people very courteous and friendly to them,
and that they gave them several roots and some dried fish, and
appeared very sociable ; and the women, as well as the men, were
very forward to supply them with anything they could get for
them to eat, and brought it to them a great way upon their heads.

They continued here four days, and inquired as well as they
could of them by signs what nations were this way and that way ;
and were told of several fierce and terrible people that lived almost
every way, who, as they made signs to them, used to eat men,
But as for themselves, they said that they never ate men nor
women, except only such as they took in the wars; and then they
owned that they made a great feast and ate their prisoners.

The Englishmen inquired when they had a feast of that kind,
and they told them about two moons ago —pointing to the moon,
and then to two fingers; and that their great king had two hun-
dred prisoners now, which he had taken in his war, and they were
feeding them to make them fat for the next feast. The English-
men seemed mighty desirous to see those prisoners ; but the other
mistaking them, thought they were desirous to have some of them
to carry away for their own eating. So they beckoned to them,
pointing to the setting of the sun and then to the rising, which
A NOVEL ADVENTURE, 428

was to signify that the next morning at sun-rising they would
bring some for them; and accordingly the next morning they brought
down five women and eleven men, and gave them to the English-
men to carry with them on their voyage, just as we would bring
so many cows and oxen down to a seaport town, to victual a ship.

As brutish and barbarous as these fellows were at home, their
stomachs turned at this sight, and they did not know what to do;
to refuse the prisoners would have been the highest affront to the
savage gentry that offered them; and what to do with them they
knew not. However, upon some debates, they resolved to accept
of them; and in return they gave the savages that brought them
one of their hatchets, an old key, a knife, and six or seven of their
bullets, which, though they did not understand, they seemed
extremely pleased with. And then tying the poor creatures’ hands
behind them, they (the people) dragged the poor prisoners into the
boat for our men,

The Englishmen were obliged to come away as sodn as they had
them, or else they that gave them this noble present would cer-
tainly have expected that they should have gone to work with
them, have killed two or three of them the next morning, and
perhaps have invited the donors to dinner.

But having taken their leave with all the respects and thanks
that could well pass between people where on either side they
understood not one word they could say, they put off with their
boat, and came back towards the first island, where, when they
arrived, they set eight of their prisoners at liberty, there being too
many of them for their occasion.

Tn their voyage, they endeavoured to have some communication
with their prisoners, but it was impossible to make them under-
stand anything; nothing they could say to them, or give them, or do
for them, but was looked upon as going about to murder them. They
first of all unbound them; but the poor creatures screamed at that,
especially the women, as if they had just felt the knife at their
throats, for they immediately concluded they were unbound on
purpose to be killed.

If they gave them anything to eat, it was the same thing; then
‘they concluded it was for fear they should sink in flesh, and so not
424 A FAMILY IN DISHABLLLE,

be fat enough to kill, If they looked at one of them more parti
cularly, the party presently concluded it was to see whether he or
she was fattest and fittest to kill, Nay, after they had brought
them quite over, and begun to use them kindly and treat them
well, still they expected every day to make a dinner or supper for
their new masters.

When the three wanderers had given this unaccountable history
or journal of their voyage, the Spaniard asked them, “* Where their
new family was?” And being told that they had brought them
on shore and put them into one of their huts, and were come up to
beg some victuals for them; they (the Spaniards) and the other
two Knglishmen, that is to say, the whole colony, resolved to go
all down to the place and see them, and did so, and Friday's father
with them.

When they came into the hut, there they sat all bound; for
when they had brought them on shore, they bound their hands
that they might not take the boat and make their escape. There,
Lsay, they sat, all of them stark naked. Tirst, there were three
men, lusty comely fellows, well shaped, straight and fair limbs,
about thirty to thirty-five years of age; and five women, whereof twa
might be from thirty to forty; two more not above four or five and
twenty; and the fifth, a tall, comely maiden, about sixteen or
seventeen, ‘The women were well-favoured, agreeable persons, both
in shape and features, only tawny, and two of them, had they been
perfectly white, would have passed for very handsome women even
in London itself, having pleasant agrecable countenances, and of a
very modest behaviour, especially when they came afterwards to be
clothed and dressed, as they called it, though the dress was very
indifferent, it must be confessed ; of which hereafter.

The sight, you may be sure, was something uncouth to our
Spaniards, who were (to give them a just character) men of the
best behaviour, of the most calm, sedate tempers, and perfect good -
humour that ever [ met with, and, in particular, of the most
modesty, as will presently appear: [ say, the sight was very
uncouth, to see three naked men and five naked women all together
bound, and in the most miserable circumstances that human nature
could be supposed to be, namely, to be expecting every moment
AS WIVES AND SERVANTS. 426

to be dragged out and have their brains knocked out, and then te
be eaten up like a calf that is killed for a dainty.

The first thing they did was to cause the old Indian, Friday’s
father, to go in and see first if he knew any of them, and then if
he understood any of their speech. As soon as the old man came
in, he looked seriously at them, but knew none of them; neither
could any of them understand a word he said or a sign he could
make, except one of the women.

However, this was enough to answer the end, which was to
satisfy them that the men into whose hands they were fallen were
Christians ; that they abhorred cating of men or women, and that
they might be sure they would not be killed. As soon as they
were assured of this, they discovered such joy, and by such awk-
ward and several ways as is hard to describe; for it seems they
were of several nations.

The woman, who was their interpreter, was bid in the next
place to ask them if they were willing to be servants, and to work
for the men who had brought them away to save their lives; at
which they all fell a dancing ; and presently one fell to taking up
this, and another that, or anything that lay next, to carry on their
shoulders, to intimate that they were willing to work.

The governor, who found that the having women among them
would presently be attended with some inconvenience, and might
occasion some strife, and perhaps blood, asked the three men what
they intended to do with these women, and how they intended to
use them—whether as servants oras women. One of the Hnglish-
men answered very boldly and readily, “That they would use them
as both.” To which the governor said, “I am not going to
restrain you from it; you are your own masters as to that. But
this I think is but just, for avoiding disorders and quarrels amongst
you, and I desire it of you for that reason only, namely, that you
will all engage that if any of you take any of these women as a
woman or wife, that he shall take but one; and that having taken
one, none else shall touch her: for thongh we cannot marry any of
you, yet ’tis but reasonable that while you stay here, the woman
any of you takes should be maintained by the man that takes her,
and should be his wife; I mean,” says he, “ while he continues
426 HOW TO CHOOSE A WIFE.

here, and that none else shall have anything to do with her.” All
this appeared so just, that every one agreed to it without any diffi-
culty,

Then the Englishmen asked the Spaniards if they designed to
take any of them. But every one of them answered, “ No.”
Some of them said they had wives in Spain, and the others did not
like women that were not Christians; and all together declared
that they would not touch one of them; which was an instance of
such virtue as I have not met with in all my travels. On the other
hand, to be short, the five Hnglishmen took them every one a wile;
that is to say, a temporary wife: and so they set up a new form of
living ; for the Spaniards and Friday’s father lived in my old habi-
tation, which they had enlarged exceedingly within. ‘The three
servants which were taken in the late battle of the savages lived
with them; and these carried on the main part of the colony,
supplying all the rest with food, and assisting them in anything as
they could, or as they found necessity required.

But the wonder of this story was, how five such refractory, ill-
matched fellows should agree about these women, and that two of
them should not pitch upon the same woman, especially seeing two
or three of them were, without comparison, more agreeable than
the other. But they took a good way enough to prevent quarrel-
ling among themselves; for they set the five women by themselves
in one of their huts, and they went all into the other hut and drew
lots among them who should choose first.

He that drew to choose first, went away by himself to the hut
where the poor naked creatures were, and fetched out her he chose ;
and it was worth observing that he that chose first took her that
was reckoned the homeliest and the oldest of the five, which made
mirth enough among the rest ; and even the Spaniards laughed at
it. But the fellow considered better than any of them, that it was
application and business that they were to expect assistance in as
much as anything else; and she proved the best wife of all the
parcel.

When the poor women saw themselves set in a row thus, and
fetched out one by one, the terrors of their condition returned upon
them again and they firmly believed that they were nowa going to be
THE MATRIMONIAL LOTTERY. 424

devoured ; accordingly when the English sailor came in, and fetched
out one of them, the rest set up a most lamentable cry, and hung
about her, and took their leave of her with such agonies and such
affection as would have grieved the hardest heart in the world;
nor was it possible for the Englishmen to satisfy them that they
were not to be immediately murdered, until they fetched the old
man, Friday’s father, who immediately let them know that the
five men, who had fetched them out one by one, had chosen them
for their wives.

When they had done, and the fright the women were in was a
little over, the men went to work, and the Spaniards came and
helped them; and in a few hours they had built them every one
a new hut or tent, for their lodging apart; for those they had
already were crowded with their tools, household stuff, and pro-
visions. The three wicked ones had pitched furthest off, and the
two honest ones nearer, but both on the north shore of the island,
so that they continued separate as before. And thus my island was
peopled in three places; and, as I might say, three towns were
begun to be planted.

And here it is very well worth observing, that as it often hap-
pens in the world (what the wise ends of God’s providence are in
such a disposition of things I cannot say), the two honest fellows
had the two worst wives, and the three reprobates, that were
scarce worth hanging, that were fit for nothing, and neither seemed
born to do themselves good or any one else, had three clever, dili-
gent, careful, and ingenious wives: not that the two first were ill
wives as to their temper or humour, for all the five were most
willing, quiet, passive, and subjected creatures, rather like slaves
than wives; but my meaning is, they were not alike capable, in-
genious, or industrious, or alike cleanly and neat.

Another observation I must make, to the honour of a diligent
application on one hand, and to the disgrace of a slothful, negli-
gent, idle temper, on the other, that when I came to the place, and
viewed the several improvements, plantings, and management of
the several little colonies, the two men had so far out-gone the
three, that there was no comparison. They had indeed both of
them as much ground laid out for corn as they wanted; and the
428 INDUSTRY VERSUS INNDOLENCE,

teason was, because, according to my rule, Nature dictated that it
was to no purpose to sow more corn than they wanted; but the
difference of the cultivation, of the planting, of the fences, and
indeed of everything else, was easy to be seen at first view.

The two men had innumerable young trees planted about their
huts, that when you came to the place nothing was to be seen but a
wood; and though they had twice had their plantations demolished,
once by their own countrymen, and once by the enemy, as shall
be shown in its place, yet they had restored all again, and every-
thing was thriving and flourishing about them. They had grapes
planted in order, and managed like a vineyard, though they had
themselves never seen anything of that kind; and by their good
ordering their vines, their grapes were as good again as any of the
others. They had also found themselves out a retreat in the
thickest part of the woods, where, though there was not a natural
cave, as I had found, yet they made one with incessant labour of
their hands, and where, when the mischief which followed hap-
pened, they secured their wives and children, so as they could
never be found; they having, by sticking innumerable stakes and
poles of the wood, which, as I said, grew so easily, made the wood
unpassable, except in some places, where they climbed up to get
over the outside part, and then went on by ways of their own
leaving.

As to the three reprobates, as I justly call them, though they
were much civilized by their new settlement, compared to what
they were before, and were not so quarrelsome, having not the
saine opportunity, yet one of the certain companions of a profli-
gate mind never left them; and that was their idleness. It is
true, they planted com and made fences; but Solomon’s words
were never better verified than in them: “I went by the vine-
yard of the slothful, and it was all overgrown with thorns.” For
when the Spaniards came to view their crop, they could not see it
in some places for weeds. The hedge had several gaps in it, where
the wild goats had gotten in, and eaten up the corn; perhaps,
here and there, a dead bush was crammed in, to stop them out. for
the present, but it was only shutting the stable door after the
steed was stolen. Whereas, when they looked on the colony of
ANOTHER ARRIVAL, 429

the other two, there was the very face of industry and snecess upon
all they did; there was not a weed to be seen in all their corn, or
a gap in any of their hedges, And they, on the other hand, veri-
fied Solomon’s words in another place, “That the diligent: hand
maketh rich;”” for everything grew and thrived, and they had
plenty within and without; they had more tame cattle than the
other, more utensils and necessaries within doors, and yet more
pleasure and diversion too,

It is true, the wives of the three were very handy and cleanly
within doors, and having learned the Hneglish ways of dressing
and cooking from one of the other Knglishmen, who, as T said, was
cook’s-mate on board the ship, they dressed their husbands’ victuals
very nicely and well; whereas the other could not be brought to
understand it. But then the husband who, as Tsay, had been
cook’s-mate, did it himself; but as for the husbands of the three
wives, they loitered about, fetched turtles’ eggs, and caught fish
and birds; in a word, anything but labour, and they fared aceord-
ingly, The diligent lived well and comfortably, and the slothful
lived hard and beggarly; and so, TE believe, generally speaking, it
is all over the world,

     
 
 
 

oe

 

y er had happened before, either to them or to me;
i and the original of the story was this :—
Karly one morning there came on shore five
or six canoes of Indians, or savages, call them
which you please; and there is no room to
doubt that they came upon the old errand of
feeding upon their slaves. But that part was now so familiar to
the Spaniards, and to our men too, that they did not concern
themselves about it as I did; but having been made sensible by
their exporience that their only business was to lie concealed, and
450 THE THREE SAVAGES,

that if they were not seen by any of the savages, they would go off
again quietly when their business was done, having as yet not the
least notion of there being any inhabitants in the island; T say,
having been made sensible of this, they had nothing to do but to
give notice to all the three plantations to keep within doors, and
not. show themselves, only placing a scout in a proper place, to
give notice when the boats went to sea again.

This was, without doubt, very right; but a disaster spoiled all
these measures, and made it) known among the savages that there
were inhabitants there, which was in the end the desolation of
almost the whole colony. After the canoes with the savages were
gone off, the Spaniards peeped abroad again, and some of them had
the curiosity to go to the place where they had been, to see what
they had been doing. Here, to their great surprise, they found
three savages left behind, and lying fast asleep upon the ground.
Tt was supposed they had either been so gorged with their inhuman
feast, that, like beasts, they were asleep and would not. stir when
the others went, or they were wandered into the woods, and did
not. come back in time to be taken in.

The Spaniards were greatly surprised at this sight, and perfectly
at a loss what to do. The Spaniard governor, as it happened,
was with them, and his advice was asked, but he professed he knew
not what to do; as for slaves, they had enough already ; and as
to killing them, they were none of them inclined to that. The
Spaniard governor told me they could not think of shedding inno-
cent blood, for, as to them, the poor creatures had done them no
wrong, invaded none of their property, and they thought they had
no just quarrel against them to take away their lives.

And here [T must, in justice to these Spaniards, observe, that let
the accounts of Spanish cruelty in Mexico and Peru be what they
will, T never met with seventeen men of any nation whatsoever, in
any foreign country, who were so universally modest. temperate,
virtuous, so very good-humoured, and so courteous as_ these
Spaniards; and as to cruelty, they had nothing of it in their very
nature, no inhumanity, no barbarity, no outrageous passions, and
yet all of them men of great courage and spirit.

Their temper and calmness had appeared in their bearing the
SSCAPE OF AN INDIAN, 481

unsufferable usage of the three Knglishmen; and their justice and
humanity appeared now in tho case of the savages, as above. After
some consultation, they resolved upon this, that they would lie
still a while longer, until, if possible, these three men might be
gone; but then the governor Spaniard recollected that the three
savages had no boat, and that if they were left to reve about the
island they would certainly discover that there were inhabitants in
it, and so they should be undone that way.

Upon this, they went hack again, and there lay the fellows fast
asleep still; so they resolved to waken them, and take them
prisoners; and they did so. The poor fellows were strangely
trighted when they were seized upon and bound, and afraid, like
the women, that they should be murdered and eaten; for it seenis
those people think all the world does as they do, eating men’s
flesh: but they were soon made easy as to that, and away they
earried them,

It was very happy to them that they did not carry them home
to their castle, L mean to my palace under the hill; but they car-
ned them first to the bower, where was the chief of their country
work, such as the keeping the goats, the planting the corn, &e.;
and afterwards they carried them to the habitation of the two
Knelishmen,

Here they were set to work, though it was not much they had
for them to do; and whether it was by negligence in guarding
them, or that they thought the fellows could not mend themselves,
know not, but one of them ran away, and taking into the woods,
they could never hear of him more.

‘They had good reason to believe he got home again soon after,
in some other boats or canoes of savages, who came on shore three
or four weeks afterwards, and who, carrying on their revels as
usual, went off again in two days’ time. his thought terrified
them exceedingly ; for they concluded, and that not without good
cause indeed, that if this fellow came safe home among his com-
trades, he would certainly give them an account that there were
people in the island, as also how few and weak they were: for
this savage, as I observed before, had never been told, and it was

very happy that he had not, how many there were, or where they
(234) 28
432 TWO AGAINST FIFTY.

lived ; nor had he ever seen or heard the fire of any of their guns,
much less had they shown him any of their other retired places,
such as the cave in the valley, or the new retreat which the two
Englishmen had made, and the like.

The first testimony they had that this fellow had given intelli-
gence of them was, that about two months after this, six canoes of
savages, with about seven, or eight, or ten men in a canoe, came
rowing along the north side of the island, where they never used
to come before, and landed about an hour after sunrise, at a con-
venient place, about a mile from the habitation of the two Eng-
lishmen, where this escaped man had been kept. As the Spaniard
governor said, had they been all there, the damage would not
have been so much, for not a man of them would have escaped ;
but the case differed now very much, for two men to fifty was too
much odds. The two men had the happiness to discover them
about a league off, so that it was above an hour before they landed,
and as they landed a mile from their huts, it was some time before
they could come at them. Now, having great reason to believe
that they were betrayed, the first thing they did was to bind the
two slaves which were left, and cause two of the three men whom
they brought with the women, who, it seems, proved very faithful
to them, to lead them with their two wives, and whatever they
could carry away with them, to their retired place in the woods,
which I have spoken of above, and there to bind the two fellows
hand and foot until they heard further.

In the next place, seeing the savages were all come on shore,
and that they bent their course directly that way, they opened the
fences where the milch-goats were kept, and drove them all out,
leaving their goats to straggle into the woods whither they pleased,
that the savages might think they were all bred wild; but the
rogue who came with them was too cunning for that, and gave
them an account of it all, for they went directly to the place.

When the two poor frighted men had secured their wives and
goods, they sent the other slave they had of the three, who came
with the women, and who was at their place by accident, away to
the Spaniards with all speed to give them the alarm, and desire
speedy help; and in the meantime they took their arms and what
THE BETTER PART OF VALOUR. 488

ammunition they had, and retreated towards the place in the wood
where their wives were sent, keeping at a distance, yet so that
they might see, if possible, which way the savages took.

They had not gone far, but that from a rising ground they could
see the little army of their enemies come on directly to their habi-
tation, and ina moment more could see all their huts and house-
hold stuff flaming up together, to their great grief and mortifica-
tion; for they had a very great loss, to them irretrievable, at least
for some time. They kept their station for a while, till they
found the savages, like wild beasts, spread themselves all over the
place, rummaging every way and every place they could think of
in search for prey, and in particular for the people, of whom it
now plainly appeared they had intelligence.

The two Englishmen seeing this, thinking themselves not secure
where they stood, because, as it was likely some of the wild people
might come that way, so they might come too many together,
thought it proper to make another retreat about half a mile further,
believing, as it afterwards happened, that the further they strolled,
the fewer would be together.

The next halt was at the entrance into a very thick grown part
of the woods, and where an old trunk of a tree stood, which was
hollow and vastly large; and in this tree they both took their
standing, resolving to see there what might offer.

They had not stood there long but two of the savages appeared
running directly that way, as if they had already had notice where
they stood, and were coming up to attack them; and a little way
further they spied three more coming after them, and five more
beyond them, all coming the same way; besides which they saw
seven or eight more at a distance, running another way; for, in
a word, they ran every way like sportsmen beating for their game.

The poor men were now in great perplexity whethér they should
stand and keep their posture or fly; but after a very short debate with
themselves, they considered that if the savages ranged the country
thus before help came, they might perhaps find out their retreat
in the woods, then all would be lost; so they resolved to stand
them there: and if they were too many to deal with, then they
would get up to the top of the tree, from whence they doubted
484 A WARM RECEPTION,

not to defend themselves, fire excepted, as long as their ammuni-
tion lasted, though all the savages that were landed, which was
near fifty, were to attack them.

Having resolved upon this, they next considered whether they
should fire at the first two, or wait for the three, and so take the
middle party, by which the two and the five that followed would
be separated ; and they resolved to let the two first pass by, unless
they should spy them in the tree, and come to attack them. The
two first savages also confirmed them in this regulation by turning
a little from them towards another part of the wood; but the three
and the five after them came forward directly to the tree, as if
they had known the Englishmen were there.

Sceing them come so straight towards them, they resolved to
take them in a line as they came; and as they resolved to fire but
one at a time, perhaps the first shot might hit them all three:
to which purpose the man who was to fire put three or four small
bullets into his piece, and having a fair loop-hole, as it were, from
a broken hole in the tree, he took 2 sure aim without being seen,
waiting till they were within about thirty yards of the tree, so that
he could not miss.

While they were thus waiting and the savages came on, they
plainly saw that one of the three was the runaway savage that had
escaped from them, and they both knew him distinctly, and re-
solved that, if possible, he should not escape though they should
both fire; so the other stood ready with his piece that if he did
not drop at the first shot, he should be sure to have a second.

But the first was too good a marksman to miss his aim; for as
the savages kept near one another, a little behind in a line, in a
word, he fired and hit two of them directly. The foremost was
killed outright, being shot in the head; the second, which was
the runaway Indian, was shot through the body, and fell, but was
not quite dead; and the third had a little scratch in the shoulder,
perhaps by the same ball that went through the body of the second,
and being dreadfully frighted, though not much hurt, sat down
upon the ground, screaming and yelling in a hideous manner.

The five that were behind, more frighted with the noise than
sensible of the danger, stood still at first; for the woods made the
AND AN EASY VICTORY. 436

sound a thousand times bigger than it really was, the echoes
rattling from one side to another, and the fowls rising from all
parts screaming and making every sort a several kind of noise
according to their kind, just as it was when I fired the first gun
that perhaps was ever shot off in that place since it was an island,

Ifowever, all being silent again, and they not knowing what the
matter was, came on unconcerned till they came to the place where
their companions lay in a condition miserable enough. And here
the poor ignorant creatures, not sensible that they were within
reach of the same mischief, stood all of a huddie over the wounded
man talking, and, as may be supposed, inquiring of him how he
came to be hurt; and who, it is very rational to believe, told them
that a flash of fire first, and immediately after that thunder from
their gods, had killed two and wounded him. This, I say, is
rational; for nothing is more certain than that, as they saw no
man near them, so they had never heard a gun in all their lives,
or so much as heard of a gun; neither knew they anything of kill-
ing or wounding at a distance with fire and bullets: if they had,
one might reasonably believe they would not have stood so uncon-
cerned in viewing the fate of their fellows without some apprehen-
sion of their own.

Our two men, though, as they confessed to me, it grieved them
to be obliged to kill so many poor creatures, who at the same time
had no notion of their danger, yet, having them all thus in their
power, and the first having loaded his piece again, resolved to let
tly both together among them; and singling out by agreement
which to aim at, they shot together, and killed or very much
wounded four of them; the fifth, frighted even to death, though
not hurt, fell with the rest, so that our men, seeing them all fall
together, thought they had killed them all,

The belief that the savages were all killed made our two men
come boldly out from the tree before they had charged their guns
again, which was a wrong step; and they were under some sur-
prise when they came to the place and found no less than four of
the men alive, and of them two very little hurt, and one not at
all. This obliged them to fall upon them with the stocks of their
muskets; and first they made sure of the runaway savage that had

 
436 AN ALARM AND A PURSUIT,

been the cause of all the mischief, and of another that was hurt ip
his knee, and put them out of their pain. Then the man that wae
not hurt at all came and kneeled down to them, with his two hands
held up, and made piteous moans to them by gestures and signs
for his life, but could not say one word to them that they could
understand.

However, they signed to him to sit down at the foot of a tree
thereby, and one of the Englishmen, with a piece of rope-twine, which
he had by great chance in his pocket, tied his two feet fast together
and his two hands behind him; and there they left him, and with
what speed they could made after the other two which were gone
before, fearing they or any more of them should find the way to their
covered place in the woods, where their wives and the few goods they
had left lay. They came once in sight of the two men, but it was
ata great distance ; however, they had the satisfaction to see them
cross over the valley towards the sea, the quite contrary way from
that which led to their retreat, which they were afraid of; and
being satisfied with that, they went back to the tree where they
left their prisoner, who, as they supposed, was delivered by his
comrades, for he was gone, and the two pieces of rope-yarn with
which they bound him lay just at the foot of the tree.

They were now in as great concern as before, not knowing what
course to take, or how near the enemy might be, or in what
numbers; so they resolved to go away to the place where their
wives were, to see if all was well there, and to make them easy,
who were in fright enough to be sure; for though the savages
were their own country-folk, yet they were most terribly afraid
of them, and perhaps the more for the knowledge they had of
them.

When they came there they found the savages had been in the
wood, and very near that place, but had not found it; for it was
indeed inaccessible by the trees standing so thick, as before, had
not the persons seeking it been directed by those that knew it,
which these did not; they found therefore everything very safe,
only the women in a terrible fright. While they were here they
had the comfort to have seven of the Spaniards come to their
assistance; the other ten, with their servants and old Friday, |
DEPARTURE OF THE SAVAGES. . 487

mean Kriday’s father, were gone in a body to defend their bower,
and the corn and cattle that was kept there, in case the savages
should have roved over to that side of the country; but they did
not spread so far. With the seven Spaniards came one of the
three savages, who, as T said, were their prisoners formerly : and
with them also came the savage whom the Englishmen had left
bound hand and foot at the tree; for it seems they came that way,
saw the slaughter of the seven men, and unbound the eighth and
brought him along with them, where, however, they were obliged
to bind him again, as they had the two others who were left when
the third ran away.

The prisoners began now to be a burden to them; and they
were so afraid of their escaping that they were once resolving to
kill them all, believing they were wider an absolute necessity to
do so for their own preservation. Tflowever, the Spaniard governor
would not consent to it, but ordered, for the present, that they
should be sent out of the way to my old cave in the valley, and be
kept there with two Spaniards to guard them, and give them food
for their subsistence ; which was done, and they were bound there
hand and foot for that night.

When the Spaniards came, the two Englishmen were so en-
couraged that they could not satis{y themselves to stay any longer
there; but taking five of the Spaniards, and themselves, with four
muskets and a pistol among them, and two stout quarterstaves,
away they went in quest of the savages. And first they came to
the tree where the men Jay that had been killed; but it was easy
to sce that some more of the savages had been there, for they had
attempted to carry their dead men away, and had dragged two of
them a good way, but had given it over. From thence they
advanced to the first rising ground, where they stood and saw
their camp destroyed, and where they had the mortification still to
see some of the smoke; but neither could they here see any of the
savages. They then resolved, though with all possible caution, to
vo forward towards their ruined plantation. But a little before
they came thither, coming in sight of the sea-shore, they saw
plainly the savages all embarking again in their canoes, in order to
be gone.
438 AN INTERVAL OF PEACE,

They seemed sorry at first, and there was no way to come at
them to give them a parting blow; but, upon the whole, were very
well satisfied to be rid of them.

The poor Englishmen being now twice ruined, and all their im-
provement destroyed, the rest all agreed to come and help them to
rebuild, and to assist them with needful supplies. Their three
countrymen, who were not yet noted for having the least inclina-
tion to any good, yet as soon as they heard of it (for they
living remote eastward knew nothing of the matter until all was
over) came and offered their help and assistance, and did very
friendly work for several days to restore their habitation and make
necessaries for them: and thus, in a little time, they were set
upon their legs again.

About two days after this they had the further satisfaction of
seeing three of the savages’ canoes come driving on shore, and at
some distance from them two drowned men ; by which they had
reason to believe that they had met with a storm at sea, and had
overset some of them; for it had blown very hard the very night
alter they went. off.

llowever, as some might miscarry, so, on the other hand, enough
of them escaped to inform the rest as well of what they had
done as of what had happened to them, and to whet them on to
another enterprise of the same nature: whieh they, it seems, resolved
to attempt, with sufficient force to carry all before them: for except
what the first man had told them of inhabitants, they could say
little to it of their own knowledge; for they never saw one man,
and the fellow being killed that had affirmed it, they had no other
witness to confirm it to them,

It was five or six months after this before they heard any more
of the savages, in which time our men were in hopes they had
either forgot their former bad luck, or given over the hopes of
better, when on a sudden they were invaded with the most for-
midable fleet, of no less than eight and twenty canoes full of
savages, armed with bows and arrows, great clubs, wooden swords,
and such like engines of war; and they brought such numbers
with them, that, in short, it put all our people into the utmost
consternation.
A NEW INVASION. 489

As they came on shore in the evening, and at the eastermost
side of the island, our men had that night to consult and consider
what to do; and, in the first place, knowing that their being
entirely concealed was their only safety before, and would much
more be so now, while the number of their enemies was so great,
they therefore resolved first of all to take down the huts which
were built for the two Englishmen, and drive away their goats to
the old cave; because they supposed the savages would go directly
thither, as soon as it was day, to play the old game over again,
though they did not now land within two leagues of it.

In the next place they drove away all the flock of goats they
had at the old bower, as I called it, which belonged to the Span-
iards; and, in short, left as little appearance of inhabitants any-
where as was possible; and the next morning early they posted
themselves with all their force at the plantation of the two men,
waiting for their coming. As they guessed, so it happened. These
new invaders, leaving their canoes at the east end of the island,
vame ranging along the shore directly towards the place to the
number of two hundred and fifty, as near as our men could judge.
Our army was but small indeed; but that which was worse, they
had not arms for all their number neither. The whole account,
it seems, stood thus. First, as to the men :—

17 Spaniards.

5 Englishmen.

1 Old Friday, or Friday's father.

3 The three slaves taken with the women, who proved very
faithful.

3 Other slaves who lived with the Spaniards.

To arm these they had :—

11 Muskets.

5 Pistols.

3 Fowling-pieces.

5 Muskets or fowling-pieces, which were tuken by me from
the mutinous seamen, whom I reduced.

2 Swords.

3 Old Halberds.

To their slaves they did not give either musket or fuzee, but
they had every one a halberd, or a long staff, like a quarterstaff,
440 SKIRMISH WITH THE ADVANCED GUARD.

with a great spike of iron fastened into each end of it, and by hie
side a hatchet; also every one of our men had hatchets. Two of
the women could not be prevailed upon but they would come into
the fight; and they had bows and arrows, which the Spaniards
had taken from the savages when the first action happened, which
T have spoken of, where the Indians fought with one another; and
the women had hatchets too.

The Spaniard governor, whom I have described so often, com-
manded the whole; and William Atkins, who, though a dreadful
fellow for wickedness, was a most daring bold fellow, commanded
under him. The savages came forward like lions, and our men,
which was the worst of their fate, had no advantage in their situa-
tion, only that William Atkins, who now proved a most useful
fellow, with six men, was planted just behind a small thicket of
bushes as an advanced guard, with orders to let the first of them
pass by, and then fire into the middle of them; and as soon as he
had fired, to make his retreat as uimbly as he could round a part of
the wood, and so come in behind the Spaniards where they stvod,
having a thicket of trees also before them.

When the savages came on they ran straggling about every way
in heaps, out of all manner of order, and William Atkins let about
fifty of them pass by him; then seeing the rest come in a very
thick throng, he orders three of his men to fire, having loaded their
muskets with six or seven bullets a piece about as big as large
pistol bullets. How many they killed or wounded they knew not,
but the consternation and surprise were inexpressible among the
savages; they were frighted to the last degree to hear such a
dreadful noise, and see their men killed, and others hurt, but see
nobody that did it. When in the middle of their fright William
Atkins and his other three let fly again among the thickest of them ‘
and in less than a minute the first three, being loaded again, gave
them a third volley.

Had William Atkins and his men retired immediately as soon
as thoy had fired, as they were ordered to do, or had ‘the rest of
the body been at hand to have poured in their shot continually,
the savages had been effectually routed; for the terror that was
among them caine principally from this, namely, that they were
A DESPERATE ENCOUNTER, 44

 

“PLANTED JUST BEMIND A SMALL THICKET

”

OF WUSILES

  

killed by the gods with thunder and
lightning, and could see nobody that

hurt them; but William Atkins staying

 

to load again, discovered the cheat.
Some of the savages, who were at a dis-
tance, spying them, came upon them

behind, and though Atkins and his men fired at them also, two or

?
three times, and killed about twenty, retiring as fast as they could,

vet they wounded Atkins himself, and killed one of his fellow

nelishmen with their arrows, as they did afterwards one Spaniard,
and one of the Indian slaves who came with the women. This
slave was a most gallant fellow, and fought most desperately, kill-
ing five of them with his own hand, having no weapon but one

of the armed staves and a hatchet.
442 AFTER THE BATTLE,

Our men being thus hard laid at, Atkins wounded, and two
other men killed, retreated to a rising ground in the wood; and
the Spaniards, after firing three volleys upon them, retreated also:
for their number was so great, and they were so desperate, that
though above fifty of them were killed, and more than so many
wounded, yet they came on in the teeth of our men, fearless of
danger, and shot their arrows like a cloud; and it was observed
that their wounded men, who were not quite disabled, were made
outrageous by their wounds, and fought like madmen.

When our men retreated, they left the Spaniard and the English-
* man that were killed behind them; and the savages, when they
came up to them, killed them over again in a wretched manner,
breaking their arms, legs, and heads with their clubs and wooden
swords like true savages. But finding our men were gone, they
did not seem to pursue them, but drew themselves up in a kind of
ring, which is, it seems, their custom, and shouted twice in token
of their victory. After which they had the mortification to see
several of their wounded men fall, dying with the mere loss of
blood.

The Spaniard governor having drawn his little body up together
upon a rising ground, Atkins, though he was wounded, would
have had him marched, and charged thom again altogether at once.
But the Spaniard replied, “ Seignior Atkins, you see how their
wounded men fight, let them alone till morning ; all these wounded
men will be stiff and sore with their wounds, and faint with the
loss of blood; and so we shall have the fewer to engage.”

The advice was good: but William Atkins replied merrily,
“That's true, seignior, and so shall I too; and that’s the reason I
would go on while Iam warm.” “ Well, Seignior Atkins,” says
the Spaniard, “ you have behaved gallantly, and done your part;
we will fight for you if you cannot come on; but I think it best
to stay till morning.” So they waited.

But as it was a clear moonlight night, and they found the
savages in great disorder about their dead and wounded men, and
a great hurry and noise among them where they lay, they after-
wards resolved to fall upon them in the night, especially if they
could come to give them but one volley before they were discovered,
A NOCTURNAL ATTACK, 44a

 

    

 

eee awe

MAVING DRAWN LIS LITRE BODY UP TOGKTIHKR UPON A RISING QROUND,

which they had a fair opportunity to do, for one of the two KEnelish-
men, in whose quarter it was where the fight began, led them
round between the woods and sea-side westward, and then turn-
ing short south, they came so near where the thickest of them
lay, that before they were seen or heard eight of them fired in
among them, and did dreadful execution upon them. In half a
minute more eight others fired after them, pouring in their small
shot in such a quantity that abundance were killed and wounded ;
and all this while they were not able to see who hurt them, or
which way to fly.

The Spaniards charged again with the utmost, expedition, and
then divided themselves into three bodies, and resolved to fall in
among them all together. ‘They had in each body eight persons
~-that is to say, twenty-four, whereof were twenty-two men, and
the two women, who, by the way, fought desperately.

They divided the firearms equally in each party, and so of the
halberds and staves. They would have had the women keep
back, but they said they were resolved to die with their husbands !
Maving thus formed their little army, they marched out from
among the trees, and came up to the teeth of the enemy, shout-
444 THE VICTORY COMPLETE,

ing and hallooing as loud as they could. The savages stood
all together, but were in the utmost confusion, hearing the noise
of our men shouting from three quarters together, They would
have fought if they had seen us; and as soon as we came near
enough to be seen, some arrows were shot, and poor old Briday
was wounded, though not dangerously. But our men gave them
no time, but running up to them, fired among them three Ways,
and then fell in with the butt-ends of their muskets, their swords,
armed staves, and hatchets, and laid about them so well, that ina
word, they set up a dismal screaming and howling, flying to save
their lives which way soever they could.

Our men were tired with the execution, and killed, or mortally
wounded, in the two fights about one hundred and eighty of them;
the rest, being frighted out of their wits, scoured through the
woods and over the hills with all the speed and fear that nimble
feet could help them te do; and as we did not trouble ourselves
much to pursue them, they got all together to the sea-side, where
they landed, and where their canoes lay. But their disaster was
hot at an end yet; for it blew a terrible storm of wind that evening
from the seaward, so that it was impossible for them to go off—
nay, the storm continuing all night, when the tide came up their
eanoes were most of them driven by the surge of the sea so high
upon the shore, that it required infinite toil to get them off, and
some of them were even dashed to pieces against the beach or
against one another.

Our mon, though glad of their victory, yet got little rest that
night; but having refreshed themselves as well as they could,
they resolved to march to that part of the island where the savages
were fled, and see what. posture they were in. This necessarily
led them over the place where the fight had been, and where they
found several of the poor creatures not quite dead, and yet past
recovering life: a sight disagreeable enough to generous minds;
for a truly great man, though obliged by the law of battle to
destroy his enemy, takes no delight in his misery.

However, there was no need to give any orders in this case: for
their own savages, who were their servants, despatched those poor
creatures with their hatchets.
CUTTING OFF THE RETREAT. 446

At length they came in view of the place where the more
miserable remains of the savages’ army lay, where there appeared
about an hundred still. Their posture was generally sitting upon
the ground, with their knees up towards their mouth, and the
head put between the two hands, leaning down upon the knees.

When our men came within two musket shot of them, the
Spanish governor ordered two muskets to be fired without ball, to
alumthem, ‘This he did that by their countenance he might know
what to expect, namely, whether they were still in heart to fight,
or were so heartily beaten as to be dispirited and discouraged, and
so he might manage accordingly.

This stratagem took; for, as soon as the savages heard the first
eun and saw the flash of the second, they started up from their
fect in the greatest consternation imaginable; and as our men
advanced swiftly towards them, they all ran screaming and
yawling away, with a kind of a howling noise, which our men did
not understand and had never heard before, and thus they ran up
the hills into the country.

At first our men had much rather the weather had been calm,
and they had all gone away to sea; but they did not then consider
that this might probably have been the occasion of their coming
again in such multitudes as not to be resisted, or, at least, to come
so many and so often as would quite desolate the island and starve
them. Will Atkins, therefore, who, notwithstanding his wound,
kept always with them, proved the best counsellor in this case.
lis advice was, to take the advantage that offered, and clap in
between them and their boats, and so deprive them of the capacity
of ever returning any more to plague the island.

They consulted long about this; and some were against it, for
fear of making the wretches fly to the woods and live there des-
perate, and so they should have them to hunt like wild beasts, be
afraid to stir out about their business, and have their plantations
continually rifled, all their tame goats destroyed, and, in short, be
reduced to a life of continual distress.

Will Atkins told them they had better have to do with a hundred
men than with a hundred nations; that as they must destroy their
boats, so they must destroy the men, or be all of them destroyed
446 THE CANOES DESTROYED.

themselves. In a word, he showed them the necessity of it so
plainly, that they all came into it. So they went to work im-
mediately with the boats, and getting some dry wood together
from a dead tree, they tried to set some of them on fire, but they
were so wet that they would not burn ; however, the fire so burned
the upper part, that it soon made them untit for swinuning in the
seaas boats. When the Indians saw what they were about, some
of them came running out of the woods, and coming as near as
they could to our men, knecled down and cried, “Oa, oa,
waramoka!” and some other words of their language, which none
of the others understood anything of ; but as they made pitiful
gestures and strange noises, it was easy to understand they begged
to have their boats spared, and that. they would be gone, and
never come there again,

But our men were now satisfied that they had no way to preserve
themselves or to save their colony but effectually to prevent any of
these people from ever going home again, depending upon this,
that if ever so much as one of them got back into their country to
tell the story, the colony was undone: so that, letting them know
that they should not have any mercy, they fell to work with their
canoes, and destroyed them, every one that the storm had not
destroyed before; at the sight of which the savages raised a hideous
cry in the woods, which our people heard plain enough, after
which they ran about the island like distracted men, so that, in a
word, our men did not really know at first what to do with them.

Nor did the Spaniards, with all their prudence, consider that
while they made this people thus desperate, they ought to have
kept good guard at the same time upon their plantations; for
though, it is true, they had driven away their cattle, and the
Indians did not find out their main retreat, I mean my old castle
at the hill, nor the cave in the valley, yet they found out my
plantation at the bower, and pulled it all to pieces, and all the
fences and planting about it, trod all the corn under foot, tore up
the vines and grapes, being just then almost ripe, and did to our
men an inestimable damage, though to themselves not one farthing-
worth of service.

Though our men were able to fight them upon all occasions, yet
WHAT IS TO BE DONE? 447

they were in no condition to pursue them, or hunt them up and
down; for as they were too nimble of foot for our men when they
found them single, so our men durst not go about single, for fear
of being surrounded with their numbers. The best was, they had
no weapons; for though they had bows, they had no arrows left,
nor any materials to make any, nor had they any edged tool or
weapon among them.

The extremity and distress they were reduced to was great, and
indeed deplorable: but at the same time our men were also
brought to very bad circumstances by them; for though their
retreats were preserved, . yet their provision was destroyed, and
their harvest spoiled, and what to do, or which way to turn them-
selves, they knew not. The only refuge they had now was the
stock of cattle they had in the valley by the cave, and some little
corn which grew there, and the plantation of the three English-
men, William Atkins and his comrades, who were now reduced to
two, one of them being killed by an arrow, which struck him on
the side of his head, just under the temple, so that he never spoke
more; and it was very remarkable that this was the same barbar-
ous fellow who cut the poor savage slave with his hatchet, and
who afterwards intended to have murdered all the Spaniards.

TL looked upon their case to have been worse at this time than
mine was at any time, after I first discovered the grains of burley
and rice, and got into the manner of planting and raising my corn
and my tame cattle; for now they had, as I may say, a hundred
wolves upon the island, which would devour everything they could
come at, yet could very hardly be come at themselves.

The first thing they concluded, when they saw what their
circumstances were, was, that they would, if possible, drive them
up to the further part of the island, south-west, that if any more
savages came on shore they might not find one another. Then,
that they would daily hunt and harass them, and kill as many of
them as they could come at, till they had reduced their number ;
and if they could at last tame them and bring them to anything,
they would give them corn, and teach them how to plant and live
upon their daily labour.

In order to this, they so followed them, and so terrified them
\284) 29
448 THE SAVAGES SUBDUED,

with their guns, that in a few days, if any of them fired a gun at
an Indian, if he did not hit him yet he would fall down for fear;
and so dreadfully frighted they were, that they kept out of sight
further and further, till at last our men following them, and every
day almost killing and wounding some of them, they kept up in
the woods and hollow places so much, that it reduced them to the
utmost misery for want of food, and many were afterwards found
dead in the woods, without any hurt, but merely starved to death,

When our men found this, it made their hearts relent, and pity
moved them, especially the Spanish governor, who was the most
gentlemanly generous-minded man that ever T met with in my
life; and he proposed, if possible, to take one of them alive, and
bring him to understand what they meant, so far as to be able to
act as interpreter, and to go among them and see if they might
be brought to some conditions that might be depended upon, to
save their lives and to do us no spoil,

It was some while before any of them could be taken ; but being
weak and half starved, one of them was at last surprised, and made
a prisoner. He was sullen at first, and would neither eat nor
drink ; but finding himself kindly used, and victuals given him,
and no violence offered him, he at last grew tractable, and came
to himself.

They brought old Friday to him, who talked often with him,
and told him how kind the other would be to them all; that they
would not only save their lives, but would give them a part of the
island to live in, provided they would give satisfaction that they
would keep in their own bounds, and not come beyond it to injure
or prejudice others; and that they should have corn given them to
plant and make it grow for their bread, and some bread given them
for their present subsistence: and old Friday bade the fellow go
and talk with the rest of his countrymen, and see what they said
to it, assuring them that, if they did not agree immediately, they
should be all destroyed.

The poor wretches, thoroughly humbled, and reduced in
number to about thirty-seven, closed with the proposal at the
first. offer, and begged to have some food given them ; upon which
twelve Spaniards and two Englishmen, well armed, with three
THE COLONY AT PEACK, 449

{Indian slaves, and old Friday, marched to the place where they
were. The three Indian slaves carried them a large quantity of
bread, some rice boiled up to cakes and dried in the sun, and
three live goats; and they were ordered to go to the side of a hill,
where they sat down, ate the provisions very thankfully, and were
the most faithful fellows to their words that could be thought of ;
for except when they came to beg victuals and directions, they

never came out of their bounds, and there they lived when I came
to the island, and I went to see them.

  
 

   

\) bread, biesd tame goats, and milk sera: they
or wanted nothing but wives, and they soon a,
<= have been a nation. They were confined to a
— neck of land, surrounded with high rocks be-
\ hind them, and lying plain towards the sea
"before them, on the south-east corner of the
island. They had land enough, and it was very good and fruitful;
they had a piece of land about a mile and a half broad, and three
or four miles in length.

Our men taught them to make wooden spades, such as I made
for myself; and gave them among them twelve hatchets, and three
or four knives; and there they lived, the most subjected, innocent
creatures that ever were heard of.

After this, the colony enjoyed a perfect tranquillity with respect
to the savages till I came to revisit them, which was about two
years. Not but that now and then some canoes of savages came
on shore for their triumphal unnatural feasts; but as they were of
several nations, and perhaps had never heard of those that came
before, or the reason of it, they did not make any search or inquiry

after their countrymen; and if they had, it would have been very
hard to have found them out.
450 A TENT OF BASKET-WORK,

Thus, L think, | have given a full account of all that happened
to them to my return, at least that was worth notice. The Indians
or savages were wonderfully civilized by them, and they frequently
went among them, but forbade, on pain of death, any of the Indians
coming to them, because they would not have their settlement
betrayed again,

One thing was very remarkable, namely, that they taught the
savages to make wicker-work or baskets; but they soon outdid
their masters, for they made abundance of most ingenious things
in wicker-work; particularly, all sorts of baskets, sieves, bird-cages,
cupboards, &e., as also chairs to sit on, stools, beds, couches, and
abundance of other things, being very ingenious at such work when
they were once put in the way of it.

My coming was a particular relief to these people, because we
furnished them with knives, scissors, spades, shovels, pickaxes,
and all things of that kind which they could want.

With the help of these tools they were so very handy, that they
came at last to build up their huts, or our houses, very handsomely,
raddling or working it up like basket-work all the way round;
which was a very extraordinary piece of ingenuity, and looked very
odd, but was an exceeding good fence, as well against heat as
against all sorts of vermin: and our men were so taken with it,
that they got the wild savages to come and do the like for them; so
that when I came to see the two Englishmen’s colonies, they
looked at a distance as if they lived all like bees in a hive. And
as for Will Atkins, who was now become a very industrious, neces-
sary, and sober fellow, he had made himself such a tent of basket-
work as [ believe was never seen, It was an hundred and twenty
paces round in the outside, as I measured by my steps; the walls
were as close worked as a basket, in panels or squares of thirty-
two in number, and very strong, standing about seven feet high,
In the middle was another not above twenty-two paces round, but
built stronger, being eight-square in its form; and in the eight
corners stood eight very strong posts, round the top of which he
laid strong pieces pinned together with wooden pins, from which
he raised a pyramid for the roof of eight rafters, very handsome, I
assure you, and joined together very well, though he had no nails,
ITS INTERIOR DESCRIBED, 495)

and only a few iron spikes, which he made himself, too, out of the
old iron that 1 had left there; and indeed this fellow showed
abundance of ingenuity in several things, which he had no know:
ledge of. Me made him a forge, with a pair of wooden bellows to
blow the fire; he made himself charcoal for his work; and he
formed out of one of the iron crows a middling good anvil to
hammer upon; in this manner he made many things, but especi-
ally hooks, staples and spikes, bolts and hinges. But to return to
the house: after he had pitched the roof of his innermost tent, he
worked it up between the rafters with basket-work, so firm, and
thatched that over again so ingeniously with rice-straw, and over
that a large leaf of a tree, which covered the top, that his house
was as dry as if it had been tiled or slated. Indeed he owned that
the savages made the basket-work for him.

The outer circuit was covered, as a lean-to, all round this inner
apartment, and long rafters lay from the two and thirty angles to
the top of the posts of the inner house, being about twenty fect
distance; so that there was a space like a walk within the outer
wicker-wall and without the inner, near twenty feet wide.

The inner place he partitioned off with the same wicker-work,
but much fairer, and divided it into six apartments, so that he had
six rooms ona floor; and out of every one of these there was a
door, first into the entry or coming into the main tent, and another
door into the space or walk that was round it; so that walk was
also divided into six equal parts, which served not only for retreat,
but to store up any necessaries which the family had occasion for.
These six spaces not taking up the whole circumference, what
other apartments the outer cirele had were thus ordered :—as soon
as you were in at the door of the outer circle, you had a short
passage straight before you to the door of the inner house, but on
either side was a wicker partition, and a door in it, by which you
went, first, into a large room or store-house, twenty feet wide, and
about thirty feet long, and through that into another not quite so
long; so that in the outer circle were ten handsome rooms, six of
which were only to be come at through the apartments of the inner
tent, and served as closets or retiring rooms to the respective
chambers of the inner circle; and four large warehouses or barns,
452 DOMESTIC DETAILS.

or what you please to eall them, which went in through ono an-
other, two on either hand of the passage that led through the outer
door to the inner tent.

Such a piece of basket-work, I believe, was never seen in the
world, nor a house or tent so neatly contrived, much less so built.
In this great bee-hive lived the three families, that is to say, Will
Atkins and his companion. The third was killed, but his wife
remained with three children; for she was, it seems, big with
child when he died. And the other two were not at all backward
to give the widow her full share of everything—T mean, as to their
eorn, milk, grapes, &e., and when they killed a kid, or found a
turtle on the shore; so that they all lived well enough, though it
was true they were not so industrious as the other two, as has
been observed already.

One thing, however, cannot be omitted, namely, that as for
religion, I don’t know that there was anything of that kind
among them. They pretty often, indeed, put one another in mind
that there was a God, by the very common method of seamen ;
namely, swearing by his name. Nor were their poor ignorant
savage wives much the better for having been married to Christians,
as we must call them; for as they knew very little of God them-
selves, so they were utterly incapable of entering into any discourse
with their wives about a God, or to talk anything to them concern-
ing religion,

The utmost of all the improvements which I can say the wives
had made from them was, that they had taught them to speak
Knglish pretty well; and all the children they had, which were
near twenty inall, were taught to speak Hnglish too, from their first
learning to speak, though they at first spoke it in a very broken
manner like their mothers. There were none of these children
above six years old when I came thither, for it was not much
above seven years that they had fetched these five savage ladies
over: but they had all been pretty fruitful, for they had all children
more or less; I think the cook’s mate’s wife was big of her sixth
child. And the mothers were all a good sort of well-governed, quiet,
laborious women, modest and decent, helpful to one another;
mighty observant and subject to their masters—I cannot call them
OSELESSNESS OF GRIEF, 168

husbands; and wanted nothing but to be well instructed in the
Christian religion, and to be legally married; both which were
happily brought about afterwards by my means, or, at least, in
consequence of my coming among them.

Having thus given an account of the colony in general, and
pretty much of my five runagate Englishmen, I must say some-
thing of the Spaniards, who were the main body of the family,
and in whose story there are some incidents also remarkable
enough,

I had a great many discourses with them about their circum.
stances when they were among the savages. They told me
readily, that they had no instances to give of their application
or ingenuity in that country; that they were a poor, miser-
able, dejected handful of people; that if means had been put
into their hands, they had yet so abandoned themselves to despair,
and so sunk under the weight of their misfortunes, that they
thought of nothing but starving. One of them, a grave and very
sensible man, told me he was convinced they were in the wrong ;
that it was not the part of wise men to give up themselves to their
misery, but always to take hold of the helps which reason offered,
as well for present support as for future deliverance. He told mu
that grief was the most senseless, insignificant passion in the world ;
for that it regarded only things past, which were generally impos-
sible to be recalled or to be remedied, but had no view to things
to come, and had no share in anything that looked like deliverance,
but rather added to the affliction than proposed a remedy. And
upon this he repeated a Spanish proverb, which though I cannot
repeat in just the same words that he spoke in, yet I remember I
made it into an English proverb of my own, thus :—

“Tn trouble to be troubled,
Is to have your trouble doubled.”

He ran on then in remarks upon all the little improvements I
had made in my solitude; my unwearied application, as he called
it, and how I had made a condition which, in its circumstances,
was at first much worse than theirs, a thousand times more happy
than theirs was, even now, when they were all together. He told
me it was remarkable that Knglishmen had a greater presence of
454 A PATHETIC REMINISCENCE,

mind in their distress than any people that ever he met with; that
their unhappy nation and the Portuguese were the worse men in
the world to struggle with misfortunes, for their first step in
danger, atter the common efforts are over, was always to despair,
lie down under it, and die without rousing their thoughts up to
proper remedies for escape.

I told him their case and mine differed exceedingly: that they
were cast upon the shore without necessaries, without supply of
food or of present sustenance till they could provide: that it is
true I had this disadvantage and discomfort, that I was alone;
but then the supplies I had providentially thrown into my hands
by the unexpected driving of the ship on shore, were such a help
as would have encouraged any creature in the world to have
applied himself as I had done. “Seignior,’ says the Spaniard,
‘had we poor Spaniards been in your case, we should never have
gotten half those things out of the ship, as you did; nay,”
says he, “we should never have found means to have gotten a raft
to carry them, or to haye gotten the raft on shore without boat
or sail; and how much less should we have done,” said he, “ if
any of us had been alone?” Well, I desired him to abate his
compliment, and go on with the history of their coming on shore,
where they landed. He told me they unhappily landed at a place
where there were people without provisions; whereas, had they
had the common sense to have put off to sea again, and gone to
another island a little further, they had found provisions, though
without people; there being an island that way, as they had been
told, where there were provisions, though no people; that is to say,
that the Spaniards of Trinidad had frequently been there, and had
filled the island with goats and hogs at several times; where they
have bred in such multitudes, and where turtle and sea-fowls were
in such plenty, that they could have been in no want of flesh,
though they had found no bread; whereas here they were only
sustained with a few roots and herbs which they understood not,
and which had no substance in them, and which the inhabitants
gave them sparingly enough, and who could treat them no better,
unless they would turn cannibals, and eat men’s flesh, which was
the great dainty of their country.
NARRATIVE OF THE SPANIARDS. 465

They gave me an account how many ways they strove to civilize
the savages they were with, and to teach them rational customs in
the ordinary way of living, but in vain; and how they retorted it
upon them as unjust, that they who came there for assistance and
support should attempt to set up for instructors of those that gave
them bread; intimating, it seems, that none should set up for the
instructors of others but those who could live without them.

They gave me dismal accounts of the extremities they were
driven to; how, sometimes, they were many ways without any food
atall; the island they were upon being inhabited by a sort of savages
that lived more indolent, and for that reason were less supplied
with the necessaries of life, than they had reason to believe others
were in the same part of the world; and yet they found that these
savages were less ravenous and voracious than those who had better
supplies of food.

Also, they added, that they could not but see with what demon-
strations of wisdom and goodness the governing providence of God
directs the events of things in the world; which, they said, ap-
peared in their circumstances: for if, pressed by the hardships they
were under, and the barrenness of the country where they were,
they had searched after a better place to live in, they had then
been out of the way of the relief that happened to them by my
means,

Then they gave me an account how the savages whom they
lived among expected them to go out with them into their wars.
And it was true that, as they had firearms with them, had they
not had the disaster to lose their ammunition, they should not
have been serviceable only to their friends, but have made them-
selves terrible both to friends and enemies; but being without
powder and shot, and yet in a condition that they could not in
reason deny to go out with their landlords to their wars, when
they came into the field of battle they were in a worse condition
than the savages themselves, for they neither had bows nor arrows,
nor could they use those the savages gave them: so that they
could do nothing but stand still and be wounded with arrows till
they came up to the teeth of their enemy; and then, indeed, the
three halberds they had were of use to them; and they would
466 NARRATIVE OF THE SPANIARDS,

often drive a whole little army before them with those halberdgs
and sharpened sticks put into the muzzles of their muskets. But
that for all this, they were sometimes surrounded with multitudes,
and in great danger from their arrows, till at last they found the
way to make themselves large targets of wood, which they covered
with skins of wild beasts, whose names they knew not; and these
covered them from the arrows of the savages: that, notwithstand-
ing these, they were sometimes in great danger, and were once
five of them knocked down together with the clubs of the savages ;
which was the time when one of them was taken prisoner—that is
to say, the Spaniard whom T had relieved, that at first they
thought had been killed. But when afterwards they heard he
was taken prisoner, they were under the greatest grief imaginable,
and would willingly have ventured their lives to have rescued
him,

They told me that when they were so knocked down, the rest
of their company rescued them, and stood over them, fighting till
they were come to themselves, all but him whom they thought had
been dead; and then they made their way with their halberds and
pieces, standing close together in a line, through a body of above
a thousand savages, beating down all that came in. their way, got
the victory over their enemies, but to their great sorrow, because
it was with the loss of their friend; whom the other party, finding
him alive, carried off with some others, as T gaye an account in
my former.

They described most affectionately how they were surprised
with joy at the return of their friend and companion in misery,
whom they thought had been devoured by wild beasts of the worst
kind, namely, by wild men; and yet how more and more they
were surprised with the account he gave them of his errand, and
that there was a Christian in any place near, much more one
that was able, and had humanity enough to contribute to their
deliverance.

They described how they were astonished at the sight of the
relief I sent them, and at the appearance of loaves of bread—things
they had not seen since their coming to that miserable place; how
often they crossed it and blessed it, as bread sent from Heaven ;
NARRATIVE OF THE SPANIARDS, 457

and what a reviving cordial it was to their spirits to taste it; as
also of the other things I had sent for their supply. And, after
all, they would have told me something of the joy they were in at
the sight of a boat and pilots to carry them away to the person
and place from whence all these new comforts came; but they told
me it was impossible to express it by words, for their excessive
joy naturally driving them to unbecoming extravagances, they
had no way to describe them but by telling me that they bordered
upon lunacy, having no way to give vent to their passion suitable
to the sense that was upon them: that in some it worked one way,
and in some another; and that some of them, through a surprise
of joy, would burst out into tears, others be stark mad, and others
immediately faint. This discourse extremely affected me, and
called to my mind Friday’s ecstasy when he met his father; and
the poor people’s ecstasy when I took them up at sea, after their
ship was on fire; the mate of the ship’s joy when he found himself
delivered in the place where he expected to perish; and my own
joy when, after twenty-eight years’ captivity, [ found a good ship
ready to carry me to my own country. All these things made me
nore sensible of the relation of those poor men, and more affected
with it.

Having thus given a view of the state of things as I found them,
I must relate the heads of what I did for these people, and the
condition in which I left them. It was their opinion, and mine
too, that they would be troubled no more with the savages; or
that if they were, they would be able to cut them off, if they were
twice as many as before; so they had no concern about that
Then I entered into a serious discourse with the Spaniard, whom
I call governor, about their stay in the island; for as I was not
come to carry any of them off, so it would not be just to carry off
some and leave others, who perhaps would be unwilling to stay if
their strength was diminished.

On the other hand, I told them I came to establish them there,
not to remove them; and then I let them know that I had
brought with me relief of sundry kinds for them; that I had been
at a great charge to supply them with all things necessary, as well
for their convenience as their defence; and that I lad such and
468 SETTLING A COLONY.

such particular persons with me, as well to increase and recruit
their number, as by the particular necessary employments which
they were bred to, being artificers, to assist them in those things
in which, at present, they were to seek.

They were all together when I talked thus to them; and before
T delivered to them the stores I had brought, I asked them one
by one if they had entirely forgot and buried the first animosities
that had been among them, and would shake hands with one
another, and engage in a strict friendship and union of interest
that so there might be no more misunderstandings or jealousies.

William Atkins, with abundance of frankness and good humour,
said they had met with afflictions enough to make them all sober,
and enemies enough to make them all friends; that, for his part,
he would live and die with them; and was so far from designing
anything against the Spaniards, that he owned they had done
nothing to him but what his own mad humours made necessary,
and what he would have done, and perhaps much worse, in their
case; and that he would ask them pardon, if I desired it, for the
foolish and brutish things he had done to them; and was very
willing and desirous of living in terms of entire friendship and
union with them ; and would do anything that lay in his power to
convince them of it: and as for going to England, he cared not if
he did not go thither these twenty years.

The Spaniards said they had indeed at first disarmed and ex-
cluded William Atkins and his two countrymen for their ill
conduct, as they had let me know; and they appealed to me for
the necessity they were under to do so; but that William Atkins
had behaved himself so bravely in the great fight they had with
the savages, and on several occasions since, and had shown himself
80 faithful to, and concerned for, the general interest of them all,
that they had forgotten all that was past, and thought he merited
as much to be trusted with arms and to be supplied with neces-
saries as any of them; and that they had testified their satisfac-
tion in him by committing the command to him, next to the
governor himself. And as they had an ‘entire confidence in him
and all his countrymen, so they acknowledged that they had
merited that confidence by all the methods that honest men could
 

 

Sean Raitt eet

 

THE INAUGURATION DINNER, 4ba

merit to be valued and trusted; and they most heartily embraced
the occasion of giving me this assurance, that they would never
have any interest separate from one another,

Upon these frank and open declarations of friendship, we ap-
pointed the next day to dine all togethers and indeed we made a

splendid feast.  T eaused the ship’s cook and his mate to come on

 

“ONDLED WH MADE A STILENDID FIEANT ”

shore and dress our dinner, and the old cook’s mate we had on
shore assisted. We brought on shore six pieces of good beef, and
four pieces of pork out of the ship’s provision, with our punch-
bowl and materials to fill it; and, in particular, gave them ten
bottles of French claret, and ten bottles of Hnglish beer—things that
neither the Spaniards nor the Knglishmen had tasted for many
years; and which, it may be supposed, they were exceeding
glad of.
460 EXHIBITING THE STORES,

The Spaniards added to our feast five whole kids, which the
cooks roasted; and three of them were sent covered up close on
board the ship to the seamen, that they might feast on fresh meat
from on shore, as we did with their salt meat from on board.

After this feast, at which we were very innocently merry, I
brought out my cargo of goods, wherein, that there might be no
dispute about dividing, T showed them that there was sufficient
for them all; and desired that they might all take an equal
quantity of the goods that were for wearing — that is to say, equal
when made up; as first, I distributed linen sufficient to make
every one of them four shirts, and at the Spaniard’s request. after-
wards made them up six. These were exceeding comfortable to
them, having been what, as T may say, they had long since forgot
the use of, or what it was to wear them.

T allotted the thin Nnglish stuffs which T mentioned before to
make every one a light coat, like a frock, which T judged fittest
for the heat of the season, cool and loose ; and ordered that when-
ever they decayed they should make more as they thought fit. The
like for pumps, shoes, stockings, and hats, &e.

T cannot express what pleasure, what satisfaction, sat upon the
countenances of all these poor men when they saw the care Thad
taken of them, and how well T had furnished them. They told
me T was a father to them, and that having such a correspondent
as T was in so remote a part of the world, it would make them
forget that they were left ina desolate place ; and they all volun-
tarily engaged to me not to leave the place without my consent.

Then T presented to them the people Thad brought with me,
particularly the tailor, the smith, and the two carpenters—all of
them most necessary people; but above all, my general artificer,
than whom they could not name anything that was more useful
to them. And the tailor, to show his concern for them, went. to
work immediately, and, with my leave, made them every one a
shirt the first thing he did; and which was still more, he taught
the women, not only how to sew and stitch, and use the needle,
but made them assist to make the shirts for their husbands and
for all the rest.

As to the carpenters, I scarce need mention how useful they
TOOLS AND WEAPONS, 461

were, for they took in pieces all my clumsy unhandy things, and
made them clever, convenient tables, stools, bedsteads, cupboards,
lockers, shelves, and everything they wanted of that kind,

But to let them seo how Nature made artificers at first, I
carried the carpenters to see Will Atkins’s basket-house, as I
called it; and they both owned they never saw an instance of such
natural ingenuity before, nor anything so regular and so handily
built, at least: of its kind. And one of them, when he saw it,
after musing a good while, turning about to me, “I am sure,”
says he, “that man has no need of us; you need do nothing but
vive him tools.”

Then T brought them out all my store of tools, and gave every
man a digging-spade, a shovel, and a rake, for we had no harrows
or ploughs; and to every separate place a pick axe, crow, a broad
axe, and a saw—always appointing that as often as any were broken
or worn out, they should be supplied without grudging out of the
general stores that T left behind

Nails, staples, hinges, hammers, chisels, Knives, scissors, and
all sorts of tools and iron-work, they had without tale as they
required; for no man would care to take more than they wanted,
and he must be a fool that would waste or spoil them on any
account whatever. And for the use of the smith, I left two ton of
unwrought iron for a supply.

My magazine of powder and arms, which I brought them, was
such, even to profusion, that they could not but rejoice at them ;
for now they could march as I used to do, with a musket upon
each shoulder, if there was occasion; and were able to fight a
thousand savages if they had but some little advantages of situa-
tion, which also they could not miss of if they had occasion.

T carried on shore with me the young man whose mother was
starved to death, and the maid also. She was a sober, well
educated, religious young woman, and behaved so inoffensively
that every one gave her a good word. She had, indeed, an un-
happy life with us, there being no woman in the ship but herself;
but she bore it with patience. After a while, seeing things so
well ordered, and in so fine a way of thriving upon my island, and
considering that they had neither business nor acquaintance in the
462 A CITY IN A WOOD.

East Indies, or reason for taking so long a voyage—I say, consider-
ing all this, both of them came to me and desired I would give
them leave to remain on the island, and be entered among my
family, as they called it.

I agreed to it readily, and they had a little plat of ground
allotted to them, where they had three tents or houses set up,
surrounded with a basket-work, palisadoed like Atkins’s, adjoining
to his plantation. Their tents were contrived so that they had
each of them a room apart to lodge in, and a middle tent like a
great storehouse to lay all their goods in, and to eat and drink in.
And now the other two Englishmen remoyed their habitation to
the same place, and so the island was divided into three colonies,
and no more, namely, the Spaniards, with old Friday and the
first servants, at my old habitation under the hill, which was, in a
word, the capital city; and where they had so enlarged and ex-
tended their works, as well under as on the outside of the hill,
that they lived, though perfectly concealed, yet full at large.
Never was there such a little city in a wood, and so hid, I believe,
in any part of the world; for I verily believe a thousand men
might have ranged the island a month, and if they had not known
there was such a thing, and looked on purpose for it, they would
not have found it; for the trees stood so thick and so close, and
grew so fast matted into one another, that nothing but cutting
them down first could discover the place—except the only two
narrow entrances, where they went in and out, could be found,
which was not very easy. One of them was just down at the
water-edge of the creek, and it was afterwards above two hundred
yards to the place; and the other was up the ladder at twice, as I
have already formerly described it; and they had a large wood,
thick planted also, on the top of the hill, which contained above
an acre, which grew apace and covered the place from all discovery
there, with only one narrow place between two trees, not easy to
be discovered, to enter on that side.

The other colony was that of Will Atkins, where there were
four families of Englishmen, I mean those I had ieft there, with
their wives and children; three savages that were slaves; the
widow and children of the Englishman that was killed; the young
THE FRENCH PRIEST, 468

man and the maid; and, by the way, we made a wile of her also
before we went away. There were also the two carpenters and
the tailor, whom I had brought with me for them; also the smith,
who was a very necessary man to them, especially as a gunsmith,
to take care of their arms; and my other man, whom I called
Jack of all trades, who was in himself as good almost as twenty
men, for he was not only a very ingenious fellow, but a very merry
fellow; and before I went away we married him to the bonest
maid that came with the youth in the ship I mentioned before.

And now 1 speak of marrying, it brings me naturally to say
something of the French ecclesiastic that I had brought with me
out of the ship’s crew whom I took up at sea. It is true this man
was a Roman, and perhaps it may give offence to some hereafter
if I leave anything extraordinary upon record of a man whom,
before I begin, I must (to set him out in just colours) represent in
terms very much to his disadvantage in the account of Protestants ;
as, first, that he was a Papist; secondly, a Popish priest; and,
thirdly, a French Popish priest.

But justice demands of me to give him a due character; and I
must say he was a grave, sober, pious, and most religious person ;
exact in his life, extensive in his charity, and exemplary in almost
everything he did. What, then, can any one say against my being
very sensible of the value of such a man notwithstanding his pro-
fession?—though it may be my opinion, perhaps, as well as the
opinion of others who shall read this, that he was mistaken.

The first hour that I began to converse with him after he had
agreed to go with me to the Hast Indies, I found reason to delight
exceedingly in his conversation. And he first began with me about
religion in the most obliging manner imaginable.

“Sir,” says he, “you have not only, under God (and at that he
crossed his breast), saved my life, but you have admitted me to go
this voyage in your ship, and by your obliging civility have taken
me into your family, giving me an opportunity of free conversation.
Now, sir,” says he, ‘ you see by my habit what my profession is,
and I guess by your nation what yours is. I may think it is my
duty, and doubtless it is so, to use my utmost endeavours on all

occasions to bring all tbe souls I can to the knowledge of the truth,
(284) 30
464 A CHAPLAIN FOR THE COLONY,

and to embrace the Catholic doctrine; but as T am here under
your pormission, and in your family, Tam bound in justice to your
kindness, as well as in deceney and good manners, to be under
your government; and therefore T shall not, without your leave,
enter into any debates on the point of religion in which we may
not agree, further than you shall give me leave.”

T told him his carriage was so modest that T could not but
acknowledge it; that it was true we were such people as they
called heretics, but that he was not the first Catholic that T had
conversed with without falling into any inconveniences, or carrying
the questions into any height in debate; that he should not. find
himself the worse used for being of a different opinion from us, and
if we did not converse without any dislike on either side upon that
score, it should be his fault, not. ours.

He replied that he thought all our conversation might be easily
separated from disputes; that it was not his business to cap prin-
ciples with every man he discoursed with; and that he rather
desired me to converse with him as a gentleman than as a religieuse :
that if T would give him leave at any time to discourse upon
religious subjects, he would readily comply with it; and that then
he did not doubt but T would allow him also to defend his own
opinions as well as he could; but that, without my leave, he would
not break in upon me with any such thing,

Te told me, further, that he would not cease to do all that be-
came him in his office as a priest, as well as a private Christian,
to procure the good of the ship and the safety of all that was in
her; and though, perhaps, we would not join with him, and he
could not pray with us, he hoped he might pray for us, which he
would do upon all occasions. In this manner we conversed ; and
as he was of a most obliging, gentleman-like behaviour, so he was,
if T may be allowed to say so, a man of good sense, and, as T he-
lieve, of great learning.

He gave me a most diverting account of his life, and of the
many extraordinary events of it; of many adventures which had
befallen him in the few years that he had been abroad in the world;
and particularly, this was very remarkable, namely, that in the
voyage he was now engaged he had had the misfortune to be five
HIS VARIOUS ADVENTURES. 465

times shipped and unshipped, and never to go to the place whither
any of the ships he was in were at first designed! ‘That his first
intent was to have gone to Martinique, and that he went on board
aship bound thither at St. Malo, but being forced into Lisbon by
bad weather, the ship received some damage by running aground
in the mouth of the river Tagus, and was obliged to unload her
cargo there: that finding a Portuguese ship there bound to the
Madeiras, and ready to sail, and supposing he should easily meet
with a vessel there bound to Martinique, he went on board in order
to sail to the Madeiras; but the master of the Portuguese ship
being but an indifferent mariner, had been out in his reckoning,
and they drove to Vial, where, however, he happened to find a very
good market for his cargo, which was corn, and therefore resolved
not to go to the Madeiras, but to load salt at the Isle of May, and
vo away to Newfoundland. THe had no remedy in this exigence
but to go with the ship, and had a pretty good voyage as far as
the Banks (so they call the place where they catch the fish),
where, meeting with a French ship bound from France to Quebee
in the river of Canada and from thence to Martinique, to carry pro-
visions, he thought he should have an opportunity to complete his
first design; but when he came to Quebec the master of the ship
died, and the ship proceeded no further: so the next voyage he
shipped himself for France in the ship that was burned when we
took them up at sea, and then shipped with us for the Kast Indies,
as T have already said. Thus he had been disappointed in five
voyages, all, as I may call it, in one voyage, besides what I shall
have occasion to mention further of the same person.

But T shall not make digressions into other men’s stories which
have no relation to my own. I return to what concerns our affair
in the island. He came to me one morning, for he lodged among
us all the while we were upon the island, and it happened to be
just when I was going to visit the Englishmen’s colony at the fur-
thest part of the island; I say, he came to me, and told me, with
a very grave countenance, that he had for two or three days desired
an opportunity of some discourse with me, which he hoped would
not be displeasing to me, because he thought it might in some
tucasure correspond with my general design, which was the pros-
466 A WISE DISCOURSE

perity of my new colony, and perhaps might put it, at least
more than he yet thought it was, in the way of God’s blessing.

LT looked a little surprised at the last part of his discourse, and
turning a little short, “Tow, sir,” said T, “can it be said that we
are not in the way of God’s blessing, after such visible assistances
and wonderful deliverances as we have seen here, and of which I
have given you a large account?”

“Tf you had pleased, sir,” said he, with a world of modesty, and
yet with great readiness, “to have heard me, you would have found
no room to haye been displeased, much less to think so hard of me
that T should suggest that you have not had wonderful assistances
and deliverances ; and T hope, on your behalf, that you are in the
way of God's blessing, and your design is exceeding good, and will
prosper, But, sir, though it} were more so than is even possible
to you, yet there may be some among you that are not equally
right in their actions. And you know that in the story of the
children of Tsracl, one Achan in the camp removed God's: blessing
from them, and turned his hand so against them, that six and thirty
of them, though not concerned in the erime, were the objects of
divine vengeance, and bore the weight of that punishment.”

L was sensibly touched with his discourse and told him his
inference was so just, and the whole design seemed so sincere, and
was really so religious in its own nature, that [was very sorry [
had interrupted him, and begged him to go on; and in the mean-
time, because it seemed that what we had both to say might take
up some time, | told him Lwas going to the Knelishmen’s plan-
tations, and asked him to go with me, and we might discourse of it
by the way. He told me he would more willingly wait on me
thither, because there partly the thing was acted which he desired
to speak to me about; so we walked on, and T pressed him to be
free and plain with me in what he had to say.

“Why then, sir,” says he, “be pleased to give me leave to lay
down a few propositions as the foundation of what I have to say,
that we may not differ in the general principles, though we may
be of some differing opinions in the practice of particulars. First,
sir, though we differ in some of the doctrinal articles of retigion—
and it is very unhappy that it is so, especially in the case before
ON PRACTICAL CHRISTIANITY. 467

us, as [ shall show afterwards—yet there are some general prin
ciples in which we both agree, namely, first, that there is a God,
and that this God having given us some stated general rules for our
service and obedience, we ought not willingly and knowingly to
offend him, either by neglecting to do what he has commanded, or
by doing what he has expressly forbidden. And let our different
religions be what they will, this general principle is readily owned
by us all, that the blessing of God does not ordinarily follow a
presumptuous sinning against his command; and every good
Christian will be affectionately concerned to prevent any that are
under his care living in a total neglect of God and his commands.
It is not your men being Protestants, whatever my opinion may be
of such, that discharges me from being concerned for their souls,
and from endeavouring, if it lies before me, that they should live
in as little distance from and enmity with their Maker as possible,
especially if you give me leave to meddle so far in your circuit.”

T could not yet imagine what he aimed at, and told hin I
granted all he had said, and thanked him that he would so far
concern himself for us; and begged he would explain the par-
ticulars of what he had observed, that, like Joshua, to take his
own parable, T night put away the accursed thing from us,

“Why then, sir,” says he, ‘ I will take the liberty you give me;
and there are three things which, if Iam right, must stand in the
way of God’s blessing upon your endeavours here, and which I
should rejoice for your sake and their own to see removed. And,
sir,” says he, “ [ promise myself that you will fully agree with me in
them all as soon as I name them; especially because I shall con-
vince you that every one of them may with great ease, and very
much to your satisfaction, be remedied.”

He gave me no leave to put in any more civilities, but went on.
‘Hirst, sir,” says he, “you have here four Englishmen, who have
fetched women from among the savages, and have taken them as their
wives, and have had many children by them all, and yet are not
Married to them after any stated legal manner, as the laws of God and
man require ; and therefore are yet, in the sense of both, no less than
adulterers, and living in adultery. ‘To this, sir,” says he, “I know
you will object, that there was no clergyman or priest of any kind
468 A PLEA FOR WELL-LIVING,

or of any profession to perform the ceremony; nor any pen and
ink or paper to write down a contract of marriage, and have it
signed between them. And T know also, sir, what the Spaniard
governor has told you; Tiean of the agreement that he obliged
them to make when they took these women—namely, that they
should choose them out by consent, and keep separately to them;
which, by the way, is nothing of a marriage, no agreement with
the women as wives, but only an agreement among themselves, to
keep them from quarreling.

“But, sir, the essence of the sacrament of matrimony” (so he
called it, being a Roman) “consists not only in the mutual consent
of the parties to take one another as man and wife, but in the
formal and legal obligation that there is in the contract to compel
the man and woman at all times to own and acknowledge each
other; obliging the men to abstain from all other women, to engage
in no other contract while these subsist, and on all occasions, as
ability allows, to provide honestly for them and their children: and
to oblige the women to the same, or like conditions, metatis mutan-
dis, on their side.

“Now, sir,” says he, “these men may, when they please, or
when occasion presents, abandon these women, disown their chil:
dren, leave them to perish, and take other women and marry then.
whilst these are living.” And here he added, with some warmth,
“Tow, sir, is God honoured in this unlawful liberty? and how
shall a blessing sueceed your endeavours in this place, however
good in themselves, and however sincere in your design, while these
men, who at present are your subjects, under your absolute govern-
ment and dominion, are allowed by you to live in open adultery?”

T confess I was struck at the thing itself, but much more with
the convincing arguments he supported it with ; for it was certainly
true, that though they had no clergyman upon the spot, yet a
formal contract on both sides, made before witnesses, and confirmed
by any token which they had all agreed to be bound by, though
it had been but breaking a stick between them, engaging the
men to own these women for their wives upon all occasions, and
never to abandon them or their children, and the women to the
same with their husbands, had been an effectual lawful marriage
MARKIAGE BY CONTRACT. 469

in the sight of God; and it was a great neglect that it was not
done.

But T thought to have gotten off with my young priest by tell-
ing him that all that part was done when I was not here; and they
had lived so many years with them now, that if it was an adultery,
it was past remedy, they could do nothing in it now.

“Sir,” says he, “asking your pardon for such freedom, you
are right in this, that it being done in your absence, you could not
be charged with that part of the crime. But, I beseech you, flatter
not yourself that you are not therefore under an obligation to do
your utmost now to put an end to it. How can you think but
that, let the time past lie on whom it will, all the guilt for the
future will lie entirely upon you? Because it is certainly in your
power now to put an end to it, and in nobody’s power but yours.”

Twas so dull still that [did not take him right ; but I imagined
that by putting an end to it he meant that I should part them,
and not suffer them to live together any longer. And I said to
him, “TI could not do this by any means, for that it would put the
whole island into confusion.” He seemed surprised that I should

so far mistake him. ‘No, sir,”

says he, “I do not mean that you
should now separate them, but legally and effectually marry them
now. And as, sir, my way of marrying them may not be so easy to
reconcile them to, though it will be as effectual, even by your own
laws, so your way may be as well before God, and as valid among
men; I mean by a written contract, signed by both man and
woman, and by all the witnesses present, mate all the laws of
Desaae would decree to be valid.”

I was amazed to see so much true piety and so much sincerity
of zeal, besides the unusual impartiality in his discourse as to his
own party or church, and such true warmth for the preserving
people that he had no knowledge of, or relation to; I say, for pre-
serving them from transgressing the laws of God—the like of
which I had indeed not met with anywhere. But recollecting
what he had said of marrying them by a written contract, which I
knew would stand too, I returned it back upon him, and told him
I granted all that he had said to be just, and on his part very kind;
that I would discourse with the men upon the point now, when J
470 A RELIGIOUS PLATFORM

came to them. And I knew no reason why they should scruple
to let him marry them all, which I knew well enough would be
granted to be as authentic and valid in England as if they were
married by one of our own clergymen. What was afterwards
done in this matter I shall speak of by itself.

I then pressed him to tell me what was the second complaint
which he had to make, acknowledging that Twas very much his
debtor for the first, and thanked him heartily for it. He told me
he would use the same freedom and plainness in the second, and
hoped T would take it as well. And this was, that notwithstand-
ing these English subjects of mine, as he called them, had lived with
those women for almost seven years, had taught them to speak
English, and even to read it; and that they were, as he perceived,
women of tolerable understanding and capable of instruction ; yet
they had not to this hour taught them anything of the Christian
religion, no, not so much as to know that there was a God ora
worship, or in what manner God was to be served, or that their
own idolatry, and worshipping they knew not whom, was false and
absurd.

This, he said, was an unaccountable neglect, and what God would
certainly call them to account for, and perhaps at last take the
work out of their hands. Tle spoke this very affectionately and
warmly. “ T am persuaded,” says he, “ had those men lived in the
savage country whence their wives came, the savages would have
taken more pains to have brought them to be idolaters, and to
worship the devil, than any of these men,” so far as he could see,
“iad taken with them to teach them the knowledge of the true
God. Now, sir,” said he, “though I do not acknowledge your
religion, or you mine, yet we should be glad to see the devil’s ser-
yants, and the subjects of his kingdom, taught to know the general
principles of the Christian religion ; that they might, at least, hear
of God, and of a Redeemer, and of the resurrection, and of a future
state—things which we all believe; they had at least been so
much nearer coming into the bosom of the true Church than they
are now in the public profession of idolatry and devil-worship.”

[ could hold no longer; I took him in my arms, and embraced
him with an excess of passion. “ How far,” said T to him, “ have
ON WHICH CHRISTIANS MAY MEET. 471

I been from understanding the most essential part of a Christian,
namely, to love the interest of the Christian Church, and the good
of other men’s souls! I scarce have known what belongs to being
a Christian.” “Oh, sir, do not say so,” replied he; “this thing
is not your fault.” “No,” says T; ‘but why did I never lay it
to heart as well as you?” “Tis not too late yet,” said he; ‘ be
not too forward to condemn yourself.’ ‘“ But what can be done
now?” said IT; “you see Iam going away.” “ Will you give me
leave,” said he, “ to talk with these poor men about it?” “ Yes,
with all my heart,” said I; “and I will oblige them to give heed
to what you say too.” “ As to that,” said he, “we must leave
them to the mercy of Christ; but it is our business to assist them,
encourage them, and instruct them; and if you will give me leave,
and God his blessing, I do not doubt but the poor ignorant souls
shall be brought home into the great circle of Christianity, into
the particular faith that we all embrace, and that even while you
stay here.’” Upon this, I said, ‘I shall not only give you leave,
but give you a thousand thanks for it.” What followed on this
account I shall mention also again in its place.

I now pressed him for the third article in which we were to
blame. “ Why, really,” says he, “it is of the same nature; and I
will proceed, asking your leave, with the same plainness as before.
It is about your poor savages, who are, as I may say, your con-
quered subjects. It is a maxim, sir, that is, or ought to be, re-
ceived among all Christians, of what church or pretended church
soever—namely, ‘The Christian knowledge ought to be propa-
gated by all possible means, and on all possible occasions.’ ’Tis
on this principle that our Church sends missionaries into Persia,
India, and China; and that our clergy, even of the superior sort,
willingly engage in the most hazardous voyages and the most
dangerous residence among murderers and barbarians, to teach
them the knowledge of the true God, and to bring them over to
embrace the Christian faith. Now, sir, you have such an oppor-
tunity here to have six or seven and thirty poor savages brought
over from idolatry to the knowledge of God their Maker and Re-
deemer, that I wonder how you can pass such an occasion of doing
good, which is really worth the expense of a man’s whole life.”
472 GOOD WORK TO BE DONE.

I was now struck dumb indeed, and had not one word to say,
I had here a spirit of true Christian zeal for God and religion be-
fore me, let his particular principles be of what kind soever. As
for me, I had not so much as entertained a thought of this in my
heart before, and I believe should not have thought of it; for I
looked upon those savages as slaves, and people whom, had we had
any work for them to do, we would have used as such, or would
have been glad to have transported them to any other part of the
world; for our business was to get rid of them, and we would all
have been satisfied if they had been sent to any country, so they
had never seen their own. But to the ease. I say I was con-
founded at his discourse, and knew not what answer to make him,
He looked carnestly at me, seeing me in some disorder. “ Sir,”
says he, “ T shall be very sorry if what I have said gives you any
offence.” “ No, no,” says I, “T am offended with nobody but
myself; but I am perfectly confounded, not only to think that I
should never take any notice of this before, but with reflecting
what notice T am able to take of it now. You know, sir,” said T.
“what cireumstances Iam in. I am bound to the East Indies, ina
ship freighted by merchants, and to whom it would be an unsuffer-
able piece of injustice to detain their ship here, the men lying
all this while at victuals and wages upon the owners’ account,
It is true I agreed to be allowed twelve days here, and if I stay
more Timust pay £8 sterling per diem demurrage, nor can I stay
upon demurrage above cight days more, and I have been here
thirteen days already ; so that Iam perfectly unable to engage in
this work, unless IT would suffer myself to be left behind here again ;
in which case, if this single ship should miscarry in any part. of
her voyage, I should be just in the same condition that I was left
in here at first, and from which I have been so wonderfully de-
livered.”

He owned the case was very hard upon me as to my voyage, but
laid it home upon my conscience whether the blessing of saving
seven and thirty souls was not worth my venturing all I had in the
world for? I was not so sensible of that as he was. I returned
upon him thus: “ Why, sir, it is a valuable thing, indeed, to be an
instrument in God’s hand to convert seven and thirty heathens to
A CHRISTIAN’S ENTHUSIASM. 478

the knowledge of Christ, but as you are an ecclesiastic, and are
given over to the work, so that it seems so naturally to fall into
the way of your profession, how is it that you do not rather offer
yourself to undertake it than press me to it?” i

Upon this he faced about, just before me, as we walked along,
and putting me to a full stop, made me a very low bow. “I most
heartily thank God and you, sir,” says he, “for giving me so
evident a call to so blessed a work; and if you think yourself dis-
charged from it, and desire me to undertake it, I will most readily
do it, and think it a happy reward for all the hazards and dif-
ficulties of such a broken, disappointed voyage as I have met with,
that I may be dropped at last into so glorious a work.”

I discovered a kind of rapture in his face while he spoke this to
me; his eyes sparkled like fire, his face glowed, and his colour
came and went, as if he had been falling into fits. In a word, he
was fired with the joy of being embarked in such a work. I
paused a considerable while before I could tell what to say to him,
for I was really surprised to find a man of such sincerity and zeal,
and carried out in his zeal beyond the ordinary rate of men, not of
his profession only, but even of any profession whatsoever. But,
alter I had considered it awhile, I asked him seriously if he was in
earnest, and that he would venture, on the single consideration of
any attempt on those poor people, to be locked up in an un-
planted island for, perhaps, his life, and at last might not know
whether he should be able to do them any good or not ?

He tumed short upon me, and asked me what I called a venture?
“Pray, sir,” said he, “what do you think I consented to go in your
ship to the Hast Indies for?” ‘ Nay,”’ said I, “ that I know not,
unless it was to preach to the Indians.” ‘‘ Doubtless it was,” said
he; “and do you think, if I can convert these seven and thirty
men to the faith of Christ, it is not worth my time, though I shall
never be fetched off the island again; nay, is it not infinitely of
more worth to save so many souls than my life is, or the life of
twenty more of the same profession? Yes, sir,” says he, “ I would
give Christ and the Blessed Virgin thanks all my days if I could
be made the least happy instrument of saving the souls of these
poor men, though I was never to set my foot off this island, or see
474 FRIDAY IN DEMAND.

wy native country any more. But since you will honour me, '
says he, “with putting me into this work (for which I will pray
for you all the days of my life), T have one humble petition to you,”
said he, “ besides.” “ What is that?” said I. “ Why,” says he,
“it is that you will leave your man Friday with me, to be my in-
terpreter to them, and to assist me; for without some help 1
cannot speak to them, or they to me.”

T was sensibly troubled at his requesting Friday, because I could
not think of parting with him, and that for many reasons. He
had been the companion of my travels; he was not only faithful to
me, but sincerely affectionate to the last degree, and Thad resolved
to do something considerable for him if he outlived me, as it was
probable he would. Then I knew that, as T had bred Friday up to
bea Protestant, it would quite confound him to bring him to embrace
another profession; and he would never, while his eyes were open,
believe that his old master was a heretic, and would be damned ;
and this might in the end ruin the poor fellow’s principles, and so
turn him to his first idolatry.

Towever, a sudden thought relieved me in this strait, and it
was this: I told him I could not say that I was willing to part
with Friday on any account whatever, though a work that to him
was of more value than his life ought to be to me of much more
value than the keeping or parting with a servant. But, on the
other hand, I was persuaded that Friday would by no means con-
sent to part with me, and I could not force him to it without his
consent, without manifest injustice, because I had promised and
engaged him to me that he would never leave me unless I put him
away.

He seemed very much concerned at it, for he had no rational
access to these poor people, seeing he did not understand one word
of their language, nor they one word of his. To remove this
difficulty, I told him Friday’s father had learned Spanish, which I
found he also understood, and he should serve him for an inter-
preter. So he was much better satisfied, and nothing could per-
snade him but he would stay to endeavour to convert them; but
Providence gave another, and very happy turn to all this.

Leome back now to the first part of his objections. When we came
CRUSOE UPON MATRIMONY. 476

to the Englishmen, I sent for them all together, and after some
account given them of what I had done for them—namely, what
necessary things I had provided for them, and how they were dis-
tributed, which they were very sensible of, and very thankful for,
I began to talk to them of the scandalous life they led, and gave
them a full account of the notice the clergyman had already taken
of it, and arguing how unchristian and irreligious a life it was. I
I first asked them if they were married men or bachelors? They
soon explained their condition to me, and showed me that two of
them were widowers, and the other three were single men or
bachelors. I asked them with what consciences they could take
these women and lie with them, as they had done, call them their
wives, and have so many children by them, and not be married
lawfully to them?

They all gave me the answer that I expected, namely, that
there was nobody to marry them; that they agreed before the
governor to keep them as their wives; and to keep them and own
them as their wives; and they thought, as things stood with them,
they were as legally married as if they had been married by a
parson, and with all the formalities in the world.

I told them that no doubt they were married in the sight of
God, and were bound in conscience to keep them as their wives,
but that the laws of men being otherwise, they might pretend they
were not married, and so desert the poor women and children
hereafter ; and that their wives being poor desolate women, friend-
less and moneyless, would have no way to help themselves. I
therefore told them that, unless I was assured of their honest in-
tent, I could do nothing for them, but would take care that what
I did should be for the women and their children without them;
and that unless they would give some assurances that they would
marry the women, I could not think it was convenient they should
continue together as man and wife, for that it was both scandalous
to men and offensive to God, who they could not think would bless
them if they went on thus.

All this went on as I expected, and they told me, especially
Will Atkins, who seemed now to speak for the rest, that they
loved their wives as well as if they had been born in their own
476 FURTHER DISCOVERIES,

native country, and would not leave them upon any account what-
ever; and they did verily believe their wives were as virtuous and
as modest, and did, to the utmost of their skill, as much for them
and for their children, as any women could possibly do, and they
would not part with them on any account. And Will Atkins, for
his own particular, added, if any man would take him away, and
offer to carry him home to England, and make him captain of the
best man-of-war in the navy, he would not go with him if he might
not carry his wife and children with him; and if there was a clerey-
man inthe ship, he would be married to her now with all his heart.

This was just as Twould have it. The priest was not with me at
that moment, but was not far off; so to try him further, I told
him T had a clergyman with me, and if he was sincere T would have
him married the next morning, and bid him consider of it, and talk
with the rest. THe said, as for himself, he need not consider of it
at all, for he was very ready to do it, and was glad T had a minister
with me; and he believed they would be all willing also. T then
told him that my friend the minister was a Frenchman, and could
not speak English, but that T would act the clerk between them.
He never so much as asked me whether he was Papist or Pro-
testant, which was indeed what I was afraid of, But, T say, they
never inquired about it. So we parted; T went back to my clergy-
man, and Will Atkins went in to talk with his companions. T
desired the French gentleman not to say anything to them till the
business was thorough ripe, and I told him what answer the men
had given me.

Before [ went from their quarter, they all came to me and told
me they had been considering what I had said: that they were
very glad to hear T had a clergyman in my company, and they were
very willing to give me the satisfaction T desired, and to be formally
married as soon as T pleased; for they were far from desiring to
part with their wives, and that they meant nothing but what was
very honest when they chose them. So I appointed them to meet
me the next morning, and that in the meantime they should let
their wives know the meaning of the marriage-law; and that it
was not only to prevent any scandal, but also to oblige them that
they should not forsake them, whatever might happen.
THE PRIEST AND THE COLONISTS. 477

The women were easily made sensible of the meaning of the
thing, and were very well satisfied with it, as indeed they had
reason to be. So they failed not to attend all together at my apart-
ment the next morning, where I brought out my clergyman; and
though he had not on a minister’s gown, after the manner of Eng-
land, or the habit of a priest, after the manner of France, yet
having a black vest something like a cassock, with a sash round it,
he did not look very unlike a minister; and as for his language, I
was his interpreter.

But the seriousness of his behaviour to them, and the scruples
he made of marrying the wo1ien because they were not baptized
and professed Christians, gave them an exceeding reverence for his
person; and there was no need after that to inquire whether he
was a clergyman or no.

Indeed, I was afraid his scruple would have been carried so far
as that he would not have married them at all; nay, notwithstand-
ing all I was able to say to him, he resisted me, though modestly,
yet very steadily, and at last refused absolutely to marry them,
unless he had first talked with the men and the women too;
and though at first I was a little backward to it, yet at last I
agreed to it with a good will, perceiving the sincerity of his
design.

When he came to them, he let them know that I had acquainted
him with their circumstances, and with the present design: that
he was very willing to perform that part of his function, ana
marry them as I had desired; but that before he could do it, he
must take the liberty to talk with them. He told them, that in
the sight of all indifferent men, and in the sense of the laws of
society, they had lived all this while in an open adultery; and that
it was true that nothing but the consenting to marry, or effectually
separating them from one another now, could put an end to it; but
there was a difficulty in it, too, with respect to the laws of Chris-
tian matrimony, which he was not fully satisfied about, namely,
that of marrying one that is a professed Christian to a savage, an
idolater, and a heathen, one that is not baptized; and yet that he
did not see that there was time left for it to endeavour to persuade
the women to be baptized, or to profess the name of Christ, whom
478 WHAT WILL ATKINS SAID.

they had, he doubted, heard nothing of, and without which they
could not be baptized.

Ie told them he doubted they were but indifferent Christians
themselves; that they had but little knowledge of God or of his
ways; and therefore he could not expect that they had said much
to their wives on that head yet; but that unless they would promise
him to use their endeavour with their wives to persuade them to
become Christians, and would, as well as they could, instruct them
in the knowledge and belief of God that made them, and to wor-
ship Jesus Christ that redeemed them, he could not marry them;
for he would have no hand in joining Christians with savages; nor
was it consistent with the principles of the Christian religion; and
was, indeed, expressly forbidden in God’s Law.

They heard all this very attentively, and I delivered it very
faithfully to them from his mouth, as near his own words as I
could; only sometimes adding something of my own to convince
them how just it was, and how I was of his mind; and I always
very faithfully distinguished between what I said for myself and
what were the clergyman’s words. They told me it was very true
what the gentleman had said, that they were but very indifferent
Christians themselves, and that they never talked to their wives
about religion. “ Lord, sir,” says Will Atkins, “ how should we
teach them religion? Why, we know nothing ourselves; and
besides, sir,” said he, “should we go to talk to them of God and
Jesus Christ, and heaven and hell, 'twould be to make them laugh
at us, and ask us what we believe ourselves? And if we should
toll them we believe all the things that we speak of to them—such
as of good people going to heaven, and wicked people to the devil—
they would ask us where we intend to go ourselves, that believe all
this and are such wicked fellows, as we indeed are? Why, sir,
‘tis enough to give them a surfeit of religion at first hearing.
Folks must have some religion themselves, before they pretend to
teach other people.” “ Will Atkins,” said I to him, “though T
am afraid what you say has too much truth in it, yet can you not
tell your wife that she’s in the wrong ;—that there is a God and
a religion better than her own: that her gods are idols, that they
can neither hear nor speak ; that there is a great Being that made
SIMPLE CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE. 479

all things, and that can destroy all that he has made; that he
rewards the good, and punishes the bad; and that we are to be
judged by him at last for all we do here. You are not so ignorant
but even Nature itself will teach you that all this is true; and I
amo satisfied you know it all to be true, and believe it yourself.”

“'That’s true, sir,” said Atkins; ‘“ but with what face can I say
anything to my wife of all this, when she will tell me immediately
it cannot be true?”

“Not true!” said 1; “what do you mean by that?” “Why,
sir,” said he, “she will tell me it cannot be true that this God I
shall tell her of can be just, or can punish or reward, since I am
not punished and sent to the devil, that have been such a wicked
creature as she knows I have been, even to her and to everybudy else;
and that I should be suffered to live that have been always acting
so contrary to what I must tell her is good, and to what I ought
to have done?”

“Why, truly, Atkins,” said I, ‘‘ I am afraid thou speakest too
much truth.” And with that I let the clergyman know what
Atkins had said, for he was impatient to know. ‘Qh,’ said the
priest, “tell him there is one thing will make him the best minister
in the world to his wife, and that is repentance; for none teach
repentance like true penitents. He wants nothing but to repent,
and then he will be so much the better qualified to instruct his
wife. He will then be able to tell her that there is not only a
God, and that he is the jus’ Powarder of good and evil, but that
he is a merciful Being, anc \ ith infinite goodness and longsuffering
forbears to punish those | at offend, waiting to be gracious, and
willing not the death of a mer, but rather that he should return
and live: that he oftenti: s suffers wicked men to go on a long
time, and even reserves da: ation to the general day of retribution:
that it is a clear evidence | God, and of a future state, that right-
cous men receive not.thw reward, nor wicked men their punish-
ment, until they come nto nother world ;— and this will lead him
to teach his wife th= d» ~.ine of the resurrection and of the last
judgment. Let him i’:t repent for himself, he will be an excellent
preacher of repentane to his wife.”

I repeated all ths to Atkins, who looked very serions all the

(284) 31
480 ATKINS AND HIS REPENTANCE,

while, and who, we could easily perceive, was more than ordinarily
affected with it; —when being eager, and hardly suffering me to
make an end, “ T know all this, master,” says he, ‘and a great deal
more; but I han’t the impudence to talk thus to my wife, when
tod and my own conscience knows, and my wife will be an un-
deniable evidence against me, that I have lived as I had never
heard of a God or future state, or anything about it. And to talk
of my repenting—alas |’ (and with that he fetched a deep sigh,
and T could see that tears stood in his eyes) “tis past all that
with me.” “ Past it, Atkins!” said [; “what dost thou mean
by that?” “1 know well enough what [ mean,” says he; “T
mean ’tis too late, and that is too true.”

T told my clergyman word for word what he said. The poor
zealous priest (I must call him so; for, be his opinion what it will,
he had certainly a most singular affection for the good of other
men’s souls; and it would be hard to think he had not the like for
his own)—T say, this zealous affectionate man could not refrain
tears also. But recovering himself, he said to me, ‘Ask him but
one question—Is he easy that it is too late, or is he troubled and
wishes it were not so?’’ T put the question fairly to Atkins, and
he answered with a great deal of passion, “ How could any man be
easy ina condition that certainly must end in eternal destruction ?
—that he was far from being easy, but that, on the contrary, he
believed it would one time or other ruin him.”

“What do you mean by that?” said I. Why, he said, he
believed he should, one time or other, cut his throat to put an end
to the terror of it.

The clergyman shook his head with a great concern in his face
when I told him all this. But turning quick to me upon it, says
he, “If that be his case, you may assure him that it is not too
late; Christ will give him repentance. But pray,” says he, “ ex-
plain this to him, that as no man is saved but by Christ and the
merits of his passion procuring divine mercy for him, how can it
be too late for any man to receive mercy? Does he think he is
able to sin beyond the power or reach of divine mercy? Pray tell
him there may be a time when provoked mercy will no longer
strive, and when God will refuse to hear, but that ’tis never too late
THE SINNER CONVERTED. 481

for men to ask mercy: and we that are Christ’s servants are com-
manded to preach mercy at all times, in the name of Jesus Christ,
to all those that sincerely repent; so that ’tis never too late to
repent.”

I toid Atkins all this, and he heard me with great earnestness;
but it seemed as if he turned off the discourse to the rest, for he
said to me he would go and have some talle with his wife; so he
went out a while, and we talked to the rest. I perceived they
were all stupidly ignorant as to matters of religion, much as I was
when I went rambling away from my father, and yet that there
were none of them backward to hear what had been said; and all
of them seriously promised that they would talk with their wives
about it, and do their endeavour to persuade them to turn
Christians.

The clergyman smiled upon me when I reported what answer
they gave, but said nothing a good while; but at last, shaking his
head, “ We that are Chiist’s servants,” says he, “ can go no further
than to exhort and instruct; and when men comply, subinit to the
reproof, and promise what we ask, ’tis all we can do: we are
bound to accept their good words. But believe me, sir,” said he,
“whatever you may have known of the life of that man you call
Will Atkins, [ believe he is the only sincere convert among them.
[ take that man to be a true penitent. [won’t despair of the rest ;
but that man is apparently struck with the sense of his past life ;
and [ doubt not but when he comes to talk religion to his wife,
he will talk himself effectually into it; for attempting to teach
others is sometimes the best way of teaching ourselves. I knew a
man, who having nothing but a summary notion of religion
himself, and being wicked and profligate to the last degree in his
life, made a thorough reformation of himself by labouring to con-
verta Jew. If that poor Atkins begins but once to talk seriously
of Jesus Christ to his wife, my life for it, he talks himself into a
thorough convert—makes himself a penitent. And who knows
what may follow?”

Upon this discourse, however, and their promising, as above, to
endeavour to persuade their wives to embrace Christianity, he
married the other three couple; but Will Atkins and his wife were
482 _ ATKINS AND HIS WIFE.

not yet come in. After this, my clergyman, waiting a while, was
curious to know where Atkins was gone; and turning to me, says
he, “I entreat you, sir, let us walk out of your labyrinth here and
look. I daresay we shall find this poor man somewhere or other
talking seriously to his wife, and teaching her already something
of religion. I began to be of the same mind; so we went out
together, and I carried him a way which none knew but myself,
and where the trees were so thick set, as that it was not easy to
see through the thicket of leaves, and far harder to see in than to
see out, when, coming to the edge of the wood, I saw Atkins and
his tawny savage wife sitting under the shade of a bush, very eager
in discourse. I stopped short till my clergyman came up to me,
and then, having showed him where they were, we stood and looked
very steadily at them a good while.

We observed him very earnest with her, pointing up to the sun,
and to every quarter of the heavens, then down to the earth, then
out to the sea, then to himself, then to her, to the woods, to the
trees. ‘ Now,” says my clergyman, ‘‘ you see my words are made
good; the man preaches to her. Mark him now; he is telling
her that our God has made him, and her, and the heavens, the
earth, the sea, the woods, the trees, Ge.” ‘TI believe he is,” said
I. Immediately we perceived Will Atkins start up upon his feet,
fall down on his knees, and lift up both his hands. We suppose
he said something ; but we could not hear him, it was too far for
that. He did not continue kneeling half a minute, but comes and
sits down again by his wife, and talks to her again. We perceived
then the woman very attentive ; but whether she said anything or
no, we could not tell. While the poor fellow was upon his knees,
I could see the tears run plentifully down my clergyman’s cheeks,
and I could hardly forbear myself; but it was a great affliction to
us both that we were not near enough to hear anything that
passed between them.

Well, however, we could come no nearer for fear of disturbing
them, so we resolved to see an end of this piece of still conversa-
tion, and it spoke loud enough to us without the help of voice.
Ife sat down again, as I have said, close by her, and talked again
earnestly to her; and two or three tiraes we could see him embrace
“BEHOLD, HE PRAYETH |” 488

 

“WE OBSERVED HIM VERY EARNEST WITH HER, POINTING UP
TO THE SUN.”

her most passionately. Another time we saw him take out his
handkerchief and wipe her eyes, and then kiss her again with a
kind of transport very unusual; and after several of these things
we see him on a sudden jump up again, and lend her his hand to
help her up, when immediately, leading her by the hand a step or
two, they both kneeled down together, and continued so about two
minutes,

My friend could bear it no longer, but cries out aloud, “ St. Paul,
St. Paul! ‘behold, he prayeth!’” [ was afraid Atkins would
hear him, therefore I entreated him to withhold himself awhile,
that we might see an end of the scene, which to me, I must con-
fess, was the most atfecting, and yet the most agreeable, that ever I
saw in my life. Well, he strove with himself, and contained
himself for awhile, but was in such raptures of joy to think that
484 INFLUENCE OF TRUE RELIGION,

the poor heathen woman was become a Christian, that he was not
able to contain himself. He wept several times, then throwing up
his hands and crossing his breast, said over several things ejacu-
latory, and by way of giving God thanks for so miraculous a
testimony of the success of our endeavours. Some he spoke softly,
and I could not well hear, others audibly; some in Latin, some in
French ; then two or three times the tears of joy would interrupt
him that he could not speak at all. But I begged that he would
compose himself, and let us more narrowly and fully observe what
was before us, which he did for a time, and the scene was not
ended there yet; for after the poor man and his wife were risen
again from their knees, we observed he stood talking still eagerly
to her; and we observed by her motion that she was greatly
affected with what he said, by her frequent lifting up her hands,
laying her hand to her breast, and such other postures as usually
express the greatest seriousness and attention. This continued
about half a quarter of an hour, and then they walked away too,
so that we could see no more of them in that situation.

I took this interval to talk with my clergyman; and first I told
him I was glad to see the particulars we had both been witnesses
to; that though I was hard enough of belief in such cases, yet
that I began to think it was all very sincere here, both in the man
and his wile, however ignorant they might both be; and I hoped
such a beginning would have a yet more happy end. “ And who
knows,” said I, “but these two may in time, by instruction and
example,-work upon some of the others?” “Some of them!”
said he, turning quick upon me, “ay, upon all of them. Depend
upon it, if those two savages, for he has been but little better,
as you relate it, should embrace Jesus Christ, they will never
leave till they work upon all the rest; for true religion is naturally
communicative, and he that is once made a Christian will never
leave a pagan behind him, if he can help it.” I owned it was a
most Christian principle to think so, and a testimony of a true
zeal, as well as a generous heart in him. ‘But, my friend,” said
I, “will you give me leave to start one difficulty here? I cannot
tell how to object the least thing against that affectionate concern
which you show for the turning the poor people from their pagan:
A PRIEST ON RELIGION, 436

ism to the Christian religion; but how does this comfort you,
while these people are in your account out of the pale of the
Catholic Church, without which you believe there is no salvation ;
so that you esteem these but heretics, and for other reasons, as
effectually lost as the pagans themselves.

To this he answered with abundance of candour and Christian
charity thus: “Sir, [ama Catholic of the Roman Church, and
a priest of the Order of St. Benedict, and I embrace all the
principles of the Roman faith; but yet, if you will believe me, and
that I do not speak in compliment to you, or in respect to my cir-
cumstances and your civilities; [ say, nevertheless, I do not look
upon you who call yourselves Reformed without some charity. T
dare not say, though | know it is our opinion in general; [ say, T
dare not say that you cannot be saved. Twill by no means limit
the mercy of Christ so far as to think that he cannot receive you
into the bosom of his Church in a manner to us unperceivable, and
which it is impossible for us to know; and I hope you have the
sume charity for us. I pray daily for your being all restored to
Christ’s Church, by whatsoever methods he, who is all-wise, is
pleased to direct. In the meantime, sure you will allow it to
consist with me, as a Roman, to distinguish far between a Pro-
testant and a pagan; between one that calls on Jesus Christ,
though in away which I do not think is according to the true
faith, and a savage, a barbarian, that knows no God, no Christ, no
Redeemer; and if you are not within the pale of the Catholic
Church, we hope you are nearer being restored to it than those
that know nothing of God or his Church. And I rejoice, therefore,
when I see this poor man, whom you say has been a profligate and
almost a murderer, kneel down and pray to Jesus Christ, as we
suppose he did, though not fully enlightened, believing that God,
from whom every such work proceeds, will sensibly touch his
heart, and bring him to the further knowledge of that truth in his
own time; and if God shall influence this poor man to convert and
instruct the poor ignorant savage his wife, I can never believe that
he shall be cast away himself. And have I not reason then to
rejoice the nearer any are brought to the knowledge of Christ.
though they may not be brought quite home into the bosom of the
486 CHARITY IS CHRISTIANITY.

Catholic Church just in the time when I may desire it, leaving it
to the goodness of Christ to perfect his work in his own time and
in his own way? Certainly I would rejoice if all the savages in
America were brought like this poor woman to pray to God,
though they were to be all Protestants at first, rather than they
should continue pagans and heathens, firmly believing that He that
had bestowed the first light to them would further illuminate them
with a beam of his heavenly grace, and bring them into the pale
of his Church when he should see good.”

I was astonished at the sincerity and temper of this truly pious
Papist, as much as I was oppressed by the power of his reasoning ;
and it presently occurred to my thoughts, that if such a temper was
universal, we might be all Catholic Christians, whatever church or
particular profession we joined to, or joined in; that a spirit of
charity would soon work us all up into right principles. And in
a word, as he thought that the like charity would make us all
Gatholics, so I told him I believed had all the members of his
church the like moderation, they would soon be all Protestants.
And there we left that part, for we never disputed at all.

However, T talked to him another way, and taking him by the
hand, “ My friend,” says I, ‘TI wish all the clergy of the Romish
Church were blessed with such moderation, and had an equal share
of your charity. I am entirely of your opinion; but I must tell
you that if you should preach such doctrine in Spain or Italy,
they would put you into the Inquisition.”

“Tt may be so,” said he; “T know not what they might do in
Spain or Italy; but I will not say they would be the better
Christians for that severity, for 1 am sure there is no heresy in too
much charity.”

Well, as Will Atkins and his wife were gone, our business there
was over, so we went back our own way; and when we came back,
we found them waiting to be called in. Observing this, I asked
my clergyman if we should discover to him that we had seen him
under the bush, or no; and it was his opinion we should not, but
that we should talk to him first, and hear what he would say tc
us. So we called him in alone, nobody being in the place but
ourselves, and I began with him thus :—
ATKINS AND THE PRIEST, 487

Rk. C. Will Atkins, prithee, what education had you? What
was your father ?

W. A. A better man than ever I shall be. Sir, my father was
a clergyman.

L. C. What education did he give you?

W. <l. He would have taught me well, sir; but I despised all
education, instruction, or correction, like a beast as I was.

&. @. It’s true Solomon says, “ He that despiseth reproof is
brutish.”

W. d. Ay, sir, L was brutish indeed—I murdered my father.
Hor God’s sake, sir, talk no more about that, sir— I murdered my
poor father.

Pr. Wa! a murderer !

{Here tho priest started (for L interpreted every word as he spoke it)
and looked pale. It seems he believed that Will had really killed
his own father.]

R. C. No, no, sir; Ido not understand him so.—Will Atkins,
explain yourself. You did not kill your father, did you, with
your own hand ?

W. A. No, sir; I did not cut his throat, but I cut the thread of
his comforts, and shortened his days. I broke his heart by the
most ungrateful, unnatural return for the most tender, affectionate
treatment that ever father gave or child could receive.

&. C. Well, I did not ask you about your father to extort this
confession ; I pray God give you repentance for it, and forgive
you that and all your other sins. But I asked you because I see
that though you have not much learning, yet you are not so igno-
rant as some are in things that are good; that you have known
more of religion a great deal than you have practised.

W. A. Though you, sir, did not extort the confession that I
made about my father, conscience does ; and whenever we come to
look back upon our lives, the sins against our indulgent parents
are certainly the first that touch us. The wounds they make lie
the deepest, and the weight they leave will lie heaviest upon the
mind, of all the sins we can commit.

h. C. You talk too feelingly and sensibly for me, Atkins
I canuot bear it.
488 ATKINS AND THE PRIEST,

W. A. You bear it, master! T daresay you know nothing of it

R. O. Yes, Atkins; every shore, every hill, nay, IT may say

every tree, in this island is witness to the anguish of my soul for

my ingratitude and base usage of a good, tender father; a father

much like yours, by your description. And I murdered my father

as well as you, Will Atkins; but I think, for all that, my repent-
ance is short of yours, too, by a great deal.

[1 would have said more if I could havo restrained my passions : but

I thought this poor man’s repentance was so much sincerer than

mine, that Twas going to leave off the discourse and retire ; for 1

was surprised with what ho said, and thought that, instead of my

going about to teach and instruct him, the man was a teacher and
instructor to me in a most surprising and unexpected manner.)

[ laid all this before the young clergyman, who was greatly
affected, and said to me, “ Did I not say, sir, that when this man
was converted he would preach to us all? I tell you, sir, if this
one man be made a true penitent, here will be no need of me; he
will make Christians of all in the island.” But having a little
composed myself, T renewed my discourse with Will Atkins.

LR. C. But, Will, how comes the sense of this matter to touch
you just now ?

W. A. Sir, you have set ine about a work that has struck a dart
through my very soul. TI have been talking about God and religion
to my wife, in order, as you directed me, to make a Christian of
her; and she has preached such a sermon to me as I shall never
forget while I live. ‘

Lt. CG. No, uo, it is not your wife has preached to you; but when
you were moving religious arguments to her, conscience has flung
them back upon you.

W. A. Ay, sir, with such a force as is not to be resisted.

Rk. C. Pray, Will, let us know what passed between you and
your wife, for [ know something of it already.

W. A. Sir, it is impossible to give you a full account of it. J
am too full to hold it, and yet have no tongue to express it. But
let her have said what she will, and though I cannot give you an

account of it, this I can tell you of it, that I resolve to amend and
reform my life.
ATKINS AND THE PRIEST, 489

hk. C, But tell us some of it. How did you begin, Will?
For this has been an extraordinary case, that’s certain. She has
preached a sermon indeed, if she has wrought this upon you.

W. A. Why, I first told her the nature of our laws about mar-
riage, and what the reasons were that men and women were obliged
to enter into such compacts as it was neither in the power of one
or other to break ; that otherwise order and justice could not be
maintained, and men would run from their wives and abandon
their children, mix confusedly with one another, and neither families
be kept entire nor inheritances be settled by legal descent.

R.O. You talk like a civilian, Will. Could you make her
understand what you meant by inheritance and families? They
know no such thing among the savages, but marry anyhow, with-
out regard to relation, consanguinity, or family : brother and
sister—nay, as I have been told, even the father and daughter, and
the son and the mother.

W". A. I believe, sir, you are misinformed; and my wife assures
ine of the contrary, and that they abhor it. Perhaps, for any fur-
ther relations they may not be so exact as we are; but she tells
me they never touch one another in the near relations you speak of.

N.C. Well, what did she say to what you told her ?

NW", A. She said she liked it very well, and it was much better
than in her country.

R. C. But did you tell her what marriage was ?

W. A. Ay, ay; there began all our dialogue. I asked her if
she would be married to me our way. She asked me what way
that was. I told her marriage was appointed by God. And here
we had a strange talk together, indeed, as ever man and wife had,
I believe.

[V.B.—This dialogue between W. Atkins and his wife, as I took it
down in writing just after he told it moe, was as follows :—]

Wife. Appointed by your God! Why, have you a God in your
country ?

W. 4. Yes, my dear; God is in every country.

Wife. No you God in my country. My country have the great
old Benamuckee god.

W. A. Child, T am very unfit to show you who God is. God
490 A RELIGIOUS COLLOQUY

is in heaven, and made the heaven and the earth, the sea, and all
that in them is.

Wefe. No makee de earth. No you God make all earth; no
make my country.

[W. A. laughed a little at her expression, of God not making her
country.]

Wee. No laugh. Why laugh me? This no thing to laugh.

{ He was justly reproved by his wife, for she was more serious than he
at first.]

W. A. That’s true indeed. I will not laugh any more, my
dear.

Wife. Why you say you God make all ?

Wat. Yes, child; our God made the whole world, and you,
and me, and all things. For he is the only true God; there is no
God but him. Te lives for ever in heaven.

Wife. Why you no tell me long ago ?

W. A. That’s true indeed. But I have been a wicked wretch,
and have not only forgotten to acquaint thee with anything before,
but have lived without God in the world myself.

Wife. What! have you de great God in you country, you no
know him? No say “0” to him? No do good thing for him ?
That no possible !

_ WA. It is too true; though, for all that, we live as if there
was no God in heaven, or that he had no power on earth.

Wife. But why God let you do so? Why he no makee you
good live ?

W. A. It is all our own fault.

Wie. But you say me he is great, much great, have much great
power ; can makee kill when he will. Why he no makee kill
when you no serve him? No say “O” tohim’? No be good mans.

W. A. That is true. He might strike me dead; and I ought
to expect it, for IT have been a wicked wretch, that is true. But
God is merciful, and does not deal with us as we deserve.

Wife. But then do not you tell God tankee for that too?

W. A. No, indeed; [have not thanked God for his mercy any
more than I have feared God tor his power.
BETWEEN HUSBAND AND WIFE. 49)

Wife. Then you God no God. Me no think, believe, he be
such one, great much power, strong. No makee kill you though
you makee him much angry.

W, A. What! will my wicked life hinder you from believing in
God? What a dreadful creature am I, and what a sad truth is
it that the horrid lives of Christians hinders the conversion of
heathens !

Wife. How ime tink you have great much God up there—[she
points up to heaven}—and yet no do well, no do good thing? Can
he tell? Sure he no tell what you do?

W. A. Yes, yes; he knows and sees all things. He hears us
speak ; sees what we do; knows what we think, though we do not
speak.

Wife. What! he no hear you swear, curse, speak the great
dann ?

WW. A. Yes, yes; he hears it all.

Wife. Where be, then, the muchee great power strong ?

W. A. He is merciful ; that’s all we can say for it. And this
proves him to be the true God. He is God, and not man; and
therefore we are not consumed.

[Here Will Atkins told us he was struck with horror to think how he
could tell his wife so clearly that God sees, and hears, and knows
the secret thoughts of the heart, and all that we ao; and yet that
he had dared to do all the vile things he had done.]

Wife. Merciful! What you call that ?

W. A. He is our Father and Maker, and he pities and spares us.

Wife. So then he never makee kill, never angry when you do
wicked? Then he no good himself, or no great able.

W. A. Yes, yes, my dear; he is infinitely good, and infinitely
great, and able to punish too. And sometimes, to show his justice
and vengeance, he lets fly his anger to destroy sinners and make
examples. Many are cut off in their sins.

Wife. But no make kill you yet? Then he tell you, maybe, that
he no make you kill, so you make de bargain with him, you do
bad thing he no be angry at you when he be angry at other mans.:

W. A. No, indeed. My ="'s are all presumptions upon his
192 A RELIGIOUS COLLOQUY

goodness, and he would be infinitely just if he destroyed me aa he
has done other men.

Wife, Well! and yet no kill, no makee you dead? What vou
say to him for that? You no tell him tankee for all that too ?

Weal. Taman unthankful, ungrateful dog, that’s true.

Wife. Why he no makee you much good better? You say he
makee you }

W. A. Te made me, as he made all the world. It is T have
deformed myself and abused his goodness, and made myself an
abominable wretch.

Wife. Twish you makee God know me. Tno makee him angry;
T no do bad wicked thing.

(Here Will Atkins said his heart sank within him to hear a poor
untaught creature desire to be taught to know God, and he such a
wieked wretch that he could not say one word to her about God
but what the reproach of his own carriage would mako most
irrational to her to believe; nay, that already she had told him
that she could not believe in God, because he that was so wicked
was not destroyed,]

Weel. My dear, you mean you wish T could teach you to know
God, not God to know you; for he knows you already, and every
thought in your heart.

Wife. Why, then, he know what T say to you now. He know
me wish to know him ; how shall me know who makee me ?

W. al. Poor creature! he must teach thee; [ cannot teach thee.
PH pray to him to teach thee to know him, and to forgive me that
Tam unworthy to teach thee.

(The poor fellow was in such an agony at her desiring him to make
her know God, and her wishing to know him, that, he said, he fell
down on his knees before her, and prayed to God to enlighten her
mind with tho saving knowledgo of Jesus Christ, and to pardon
his sins, and accept of his being tho unworthy instrument of
instructing her in the principles of religion ; after which he sat
down by her again, and their dialogue went on. This was the time
when we saw him kneel down and lift up his hands,]

Wife. What you put down the knee for? What you hold up
the hand for? What you say? Who you speak to? What is
all that ?
BETWEEN HUSBAND AND WIFE, 493

W. A. My dear, T bow my knees in token of my submission to
him-that made me. I said “O” to him, as you call it, and as you
say your old men do to their idol Benamuckee ; that is, I prayed
to him.

Wife. What you say “O” to him for ?

W. A. I prayed to him to open your eyes and your understand-
ing, that you may know him and be accepted by him.

Wefe. Can he do that too?

W. A. Yes, he can; he can do all things. -

Wife. But now he hear what you say ?

W.A. Yes; he has bid us pray to him, and promised to hear us,

Wife. Bid you pray? When he bid you? How he bid you?
What! you hear him speak ?

IV. 4l. No, we do not hear him speak ; but he has revealed him-
self many ways to us.

[Here he was at a great loss to make her understand that God has

rovealed himself to us by his Word, and what his Word was, But
at last he told it her thus :—]

W. a. God has spoken to some good men in former days, even
from heaven, by plain words; and God has inspired good men by
his Spirit, and they have written all his laws down in a book.

Wife. Me no understand that. Where is Book?

W. zt. Alas, my poor creature, I have not this book! but I
hope I shall one time or other get it for you, and help you to
read it.

[Here he embraced her with groat affection, but with inexpressible
grief that ho had not a Bible.]

Wife. But how you makee me know that God teachee them
to write that book ?

W. A. By the same rule that we know him to be God.

Wife. What rule, what way you know him?

W. A. Because he teaches and commands nothing but what is
good, righteous, and holy, and tends to make us perfectly good, as
well as perfectly happy; and because he forbids and commands us
to avoid all that is wicked, that is evil in itself, or evil in its
consequences.

 
494 AN AFFECTING STORY.

Wife. That me would understand, that me fain see. If be teachee
all good thing, forbid all wicked thing; he reward all good thing,
punish all wicked thing; he make all thing, he give all thing;
he hear me when I say 0 to him, as you go do just now; he
makee me good, if I wish be good, he spare me, no makee kill me
when I no be good; all this you say he do, yet he be great God:
me take, think, believe him be great God; me say O to him too
with you, my dear.

Here the poor man could forbear no longer; but raising her
up, made her kneel by him, and he prayed to God aloud, to in-
struct her in the knowledge of himself by his Spirit, and that by
some good providence, if possible, she might some time or other
come to have a Bible, that she might read the Word of God, and
be taught by it to know him.

This was the time that we saw him lift her up by the hand, and
saw him kneel down by her, as above.

They had several other discourses, it seems, after this, too long
to set down here; and particularly she made him promise, that
since he confessed his own life had been a wicked, abominable
course of provocation against God, that he would reform it, and
not make God angry any more, lest he should make him dead, as
she called it, and then she should be left alone, and never be
taught to know this God better; and lest he should be miserable,
as he had told her wicked men should be after death.

This was a strange account, and very alfecting to us both, but
particularly to the young clergyman. He was indeed wonderfully
surprised with it, but under the greatest affliction imaginable that
he could not talk to her, that he could not speak English to make
her understand him; and as she spoke but very broken Hnglish,
he could not understand her. However, he turned himself to me,
and told me that he believed there must be more to do with this
woman than to marry her. I did not understand him at first, .
but at length he explained himself, namely, that she ought to be
baptized.

I agreed with him in that part readily, and was for going about
it presently. ‘No, no; hold, sir,” said he. ‘“'Though I would
have her be baptized by all means, yet T must observe, that Will
THE CONVERT BAPTIZED. 496

Atkins, her husband, has indeed brought her in a wonderful
manner to be willing to embrace a religious life, and has given
her just ideas of the being of a God, of his power, justice, mercy,
yet I desire to know of him if he has said anything to her of
Jesus Christ, and of the salvation of sinners, of the nature of faith
in him, and redemption by him, of the Holy Spirit, the resurrec-
tion, the last judgment, and a future state.”

I called Will Atkins again, and asked him; but the poor fellow
fell immediately into tears, and told us he had said something to
her of all those things, but that he was himself so wicked a
creature, and his own conscience so reproached him with ‘his horrid
ungodly life, that he trembled at the apprehensions that her know-
ledge of him should lessen the attention she should give to those
things, and make her rather contemn religion than receive it.
But he was assured, he said, that her mind was so disposed to
receive due impressions of all those things, that if I would but dis-
course with her she would make it appear to my satisfaction that
my labour would not be lost upon her.

Accordingly I called her in, and placing myself as interpreter
between my religious priest and the woman, I entreated him to
begin with her. But sure such a sermon was never preached by
a Popish priest in these latter ages of the world; and, as I told
him, I thought he had all the zeal, all the knowledge, all the
sincerity of a Christian, without the error of a Roman Catholic ;
and that I took him to be such a clergyman as the Roman bishops
were before the Church of Rome assumed spiritual sovereignty
over the consciences of men.

In a word, he brought the poor woman to embrace the know-
ledge of Christ, and of redemption by him, not with wonder and
astonishment only, as she did the first notions of a God, but with
joy and faith, with an affection and a surprising degree of under-
standing scarce to be imagined, much less to be expressed ; and at
her own request she was baptized.

When he was preparing to baptize her, I entreated him that he
would perform that office with some caution, that the man might
not perceive he was of the Roman Church, if possible, because of
other ill consequences which might attend a difference among us

(284) 32
496 A CHRISTIAN MARRIAGE,

in that very religion which we were instructing the other in. He
told me that, as he had no consecrated chapel, no proper things
for the office, [ should see he would do it in a manner that I
should not know by it that he was a Roman Catholic myself, if I
had not known it before. And so he did; for saying only some
words over to himself in atin, which I could not understand, he
poured a whole dishful of water upon the woman's head, pro-
nouncing in French, very loud, ‘‘ Mary (which was the name her
husband desired me to give her, for I was her godfather), T baptize
thee in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy
Ghost ;” so that none could know anything by it what religion
he was of. He gave the benediction afterwards in Latin; but
either Will Atkins did not know but it was in French, or else did
not take notice of it at that time.

As soon as this was over, we married them; and after the
marriage was over, he turned himself to Will Atkins, and in a
very affectionate manner exhorted him not only to persevere in
that good disposition he was in, but to support the convictions
that were upon him by a resolution to reform his life; told him
it was in vain to say he repented if he did not forsake his crimes ;
represented to him how God had honoured him with being the
instrument of bringing his wife to the knowledge of the Christian
religion, and that he should be careful he did not dishonour the
grace of God, and that if he did, he would see the heathen a better
Christian than himself—the savage converted and the instrument
cast away.

He said a great many good things to them both, and then
recommending them, in a few words, to God’s goodness, gave
them the benediction again, I repeating everything to them in
Mnglish; and thus ended the ceremony. I think it was the most
pleasant, agreeable day to me that ever I passed in my whole
life.

But my clergyman had not done yet. His thoughts hung con-
tinually upon the conversion of the seven-and-thirty savages, and
fain he would have stayed upon the island to have undertaken
it. But I convinced hin, first, that his undertaking was imprac-
ticable in itself; and, secondly, that perhaps I would put it into
ANOTHER ALLIANCE. 497

a way of being done in his absence to his satisfaction: of whick
by-and-by.

Having thus brought the affairs of the island to a narrow com-
pass, I was preparing to go on board the ship, when the young
man whom I had taken out of the famished ship’s company came
to me, and told me he understood J had a clergyman with me,
and that I caused the Englishmen to be married to the savages
whom they called wives; that he had a match too, which he de-
sired might be finished before I went, between two Christians,
which he hoped would not be disagreeable to me.

I knew this must be the young woman who was his mother’s
servant, for there was no other Christian woman on the island.
So I began to persuade him not to do anything of that kind
rashly, or because he found himself in this solitary circumstance.
I represented to him that he had some considerable substance in
the world, and good friends, as I understood by himself and by
his maid also; that his maid was not only poor and a servant, but
was unequal to him, she being six or seven and twenty years old,
and he not above seventeen or eighteen; that he might very pro-
bably, with my assistance, make a remove from this wilderness,
and come into his own country again; and that then it would be
a thousand to one but he would repent his choice; and the dis-
like of that circumstance might be disadvantageous to both. I
was going to say more, but he interrupted me, smiling, and told
me, with a great deal of modesty, that I mistook in my guesses ;
that he had nothing of that kind in his thoughts, his present cir-
cumstance being melancholy and disconsolate enough; and he was
very glad to hear that I had thoughts of putting them in a way
to see their country again; and nothing should have put him upon
staying there but that the voyage I was going was so exceeding
long and hazardous, and would carry him quite out of the reach
of all his friends: that he had nothing to desire of me but that I
would scttle him in some little property in the island where he
was, give him a servant or two, and some few necessaries, and he
would settle himself here like a planter, waiting the good time
when, if ever I returned to England, I would redeem him, and
hoped I would not be unmindful of him when I came to England :
998 DIVIDING THE LAND.

that he would give me some letters to his friends in London to let
them know how good I had been to him, and in what part of the
world and what circumstance [ had left him in: that he promised
me that, whenever I redeemed him, the plantation, and all the im-
provement he had made upon it, let the value be what it would,
should be wholly mine.

His discourse was very prettily delivered, considering his youth,
and was the more agreeable to me because he told me positively
the match was not for himself. I gave him all possible assurances
that, if I lived to come safe to England, I would deliver his letter,
and do his business etlectually, and that he might depend I would
never forget the circumstance I had left him in. But still I was
impatient to know who were the persons to be married, upon
which he told me it was my Jack of all trades and his maid
Susan.

I was most agreeably surprised when he named the match, for
indeed I thought it very suitable. The character of that man I
have given already; and as for the maid, she was a very honest,
modest, sober, and religious young woman ; had a very good share
of sense, was agreeable enough in her person, spoke very hand-
somely and to the purpose, always with decency and good man
ners, and not backward to speak when anything required it, or
impertinently forward to speak when it was not her business ; very
handy and housewifely in anything that was before her; an ex-
cellent manager, and fit indeed to have been governess to the
whole island; she knew very well how to behave to all kind of
folks she had about her, and to better, if she had found any there.

The match being proposed in this manner, we married them the
same day; and as I was father at the altar, as I may say, and gave
her away, so I gave her a portion; for I appointed her and her
husband a handsome large space of ground for their plantation.
And indeed this match, and the proposal the young gentleman
made to give him a small property in the island, put me upon
parcelling it out amongst them, that they might not quarrel after-
wards about their situation.

This sharing out the land to them I left to Will Atkins, who,
indeed, was now grown a most sober, grave, managing fellow,
DISPOSAL OF THE INDIANS, 498

perfectly reformed, exceeding pious and religious, and, as far as |
may be allowed to speak positively in such a case, I verily believe
was a true sincere penitent.

He divided things so justly, and so much to everyone’s satis-
faction, that they only desired one general writing under my hand
for the whole, which I caused to be drawn up and signed and
sealed to them, setting out the bounds and situation of every
man’s plantation, and testifying that I gave them thereby severally
aright to the whole possession and inheritance of the respective
plantations or farms, with their improvements, to them and their
heirs, reserving all the rest of the island as my own property, and
a certain rent for every particular plantation after eleven years, if
I, or any one from me or in my name, came to demand it, pro-
ducing an attested copy of the same writing.

As to the government and laws among them, I told them I was
not capable of giving them better rules than they were able to give
themselves; only made them promise me to live in love and good
neighbourhood with one another. And so I prepared to leave
them.

One thing I must not omit, and this is, that being now settled
in a kind of commonwealth among themselves, and having much
business in hand, it was but odd to have seven and thirty Indians
live in a nook of the island independent, and indeed unemployed ;
for excepting the providing themselves food, which they had dif-
ficulty enough in too, sometimes, they had no manner of business
or property to manage. I proposed, therefore, to the governor
Spaniard that he should go to them, with Friday’s father, and
propose to them to remove, and either plant for themselves or take
them into their several families as servants, to be maintained for
their labour, but without being absolute slaves; for I would not
admit them to make them slaves by force by any means, because
they had their liberty given them by capitulation, and, as it were,
articles of surrender, which they ought not to break

They most willingly embraced the proposal, and came all very
cheerfully along with him; so we allotted them land and planta-
tions, which three or four accepted of, but all the rest chose to be
eniployed as servants in the several families we had settled. And
600 HOW THE ISLAND WAS SETTLED,

thus my colony was, in a manner, settled as follows :— The
Spaniards possessed my original habitation, which was the capital
city, and extended their plantations all along the side of the
brook, which made the creek that T have so often described, as far
as my bower; and as they increased their culture, it went always
eastward, ‘The Mnglish lived in the north-east part, where Will
Atkins and his comrades began, and came on southward and
south-west, towards the back part of the Spaniards; and every
plantation had a great addition of land to take in, if they found
occasion, so that they need not jostle one another for want of
room.

All the cast end of the islud was left uninhabited, that if any
of the savages should come on shore there, only for their usual
customary barbarities, they might come and go. Tf they disturbed
nobody, nobody would disturb them; and no doubt but they were
often ashore and went away again, for T never heard that the
planters were attacked or disturbed any more.

It now came into my thoughts that T had hinted to my friend
the clergyman that the work of converting the savages might
perhaps be set on foot in his absence to his satisfaction, And I told
him that now T thought it was put ina fair way; for the savages
being thus divided among the Christians, if they would but every
one of them do their part with those who came under their hands,
T hoped it might have a very good effect.

He agreed presently in that, if, said he, they will do their part.
“shall we obtain that of them?” I told
him we would call them together, and leave it in charge with

* But how,” says he,

them, or go to them one by one, which he thought best. So we
divided it, he to speak to the Spaniards, who were all Papists,
and T to the English, who were all Protestants; and we recom-
mended it earnestly to them, and made them promise that they
never would make any distinction of Papist or Protestant in their
exhorting the savages to turn Christians; but teach them the
general knowledge of the true God, and of their Saviour Jesus
Christ. And they likewise promised us, that they would never
have any differences or disputes one with another about religion,
When IT came to Will Atkins’s house—I may call it so, for such
A NEW INSTRUCTOR. 601

a house, or such a piece of basket-work, I believe, was not standing
in the world again; I say, when I came there, I found the young
woman I have mentioned above and Will Atkins’s wife were be-
come intimates; and this prudent religious young woman had
perfected the work William Atkins had begun. And though it
was not above four days after what I have related, yet the new
baptized savage woman was made such a Christian as I have
seldom heard of any like her in all my observation or conversation
in the world.

It came next into my mind, in the morning before I went to
them, that amongst all the needful things I had to leave with
them I had not left them a Bible; in which I showed myself less
considering for them than my good friend the widow was for me
when she sent me the cargo of an hundred pounds from Lisbon,
where she packed up three Bibles and a Prayer-book. However,
the good woman’s charity had a greater extent than ever she
imagined; for they were reserved for the comfort and instruction
of those that made much better use of them than I had done.

I took one of the Bibles in my pocket, and when I came to
Will Atkins’s tent or house, and found the young woman and
Atkins’s baptized wife had been discoursing of religion together ;
for Will Atkins told it me with a great deal of joy: I asked if
they were together now, and he said, ‘‘ Yes;” so I went into the
house, and he with me, and we found them together very earnest
in discourse. ‘Oh, sir,’ says Will Atkins, “when God has
sinners to reconcile to himself and aliens to bring home, he never
wants a messenger; my wife has got a new instructor. I knew I
was unworthy as I was incapable of that work. That young
woman has been sent hither from heaven; she is enough to convert
a whole island of savages!” The young woman blushed, and rose
up to go away, but I desired her to sit still. I told her she had
a good work upon her hands, and I hoped God would bless her
in it.

We talked a little, and I did not perceive they had any book
among them, though I did not ask; but I put my hand in my
pocket, and pulled out my Bible. ‘ Here,” says I to Atkins, ‘ T
have brought you an assistant that perhaps you had not before.”
602 THE GIFT OF A BIBLE,

he man was so confounded that he was not able to speak for some
time; but recovering himself, he takes it with both his hands, and
turning to his wife, “Here, my dear,” says he; “ did I not tell
you our God, though he lives above, could hear what we said ?
Here's the book I prayed for when you and I kneeled down under
the bush: now God has heard us, and sent it.’ When he had
said so, the man fell into such transports of a passionate joy, that
between the joy of having it, and giving God thanks for it, the
tears ran down his face like a child that was crying.

The woman was surprised, and was like to have run into a
mistake that none of us were aware of; for she firmly believed
God had sent the book upon her husband's petition. It is true
that providentially it was so, and might be taken so in a conse-
quent sense; but I believe it would have been no difficult: matter
at that time to have persuaded the poor woman to have believed
that an express messenger came from heaven on purpose to bring
that individual book. But it was too serious a matter to suffer
any delusion to take place, so I turned to the young woman, and
told her we did not desire to impose upon the new convert in her
first and more ignorant understanding of things, and begged her
to explain to her that God may be very properly said to answer
our petitions, when in the course of his providence such things are
in a particular manner brought to pass as we petitioned for; but
we do not expect returns from heaven in a miraculous and par-
ticular manner, and that it is our mercy that it is not so.

This the young woman did afterwards effectually, so that there
was, I assure you, no priesteraft used here; and I should have
thought it one of the most unjustifiable frauds in the world to
have had it so. But the surprise of joy upon Will Atkins is
really not to be expressed; and there we may be sure there was
no delusion. Sure no man was ever more thankful in the world
for anything of its kind than he was for his Bible; nor, I believe,
never any man was glad of a Bible from a better principle. And
though he had been a most profligate creature, desperate, head-
strong, outrageous, furious, and wicked to a great degree, yet this
man is a standing rule to us all for the well instructing children,
namely, that parents should never give over to teach and instruct,
A SISTER OF MERCY. 608

or ever despair of the success of their endeavours, let the children
be ever so obstinate, refractory, or to appearance insensible of
instruction. For if ever God in his providence touches the con-
sciences of such, the force of their education returns upon them,
and the early instruction of parents is not lost, though it may have
been many years laid asleep, but some time or other they may
find the benefit of it.

Thus it was with this poor man. However ignorant he was, or
divested of religion and Christian knowledge, he found he had
some to do with now more ignorant than himself, and that the
least part of the instruction of his good father that could now
come to his mind was of use to him,

Among the rest it occurred to him, he said, how his father used
to insist much upon the inexpressible value of the Bible, the privi-
lege and blessing of it to nations, families, and persons; but he
never entertained the least notion of the worth of it till now, when,
being to talk to heathens, savages, and barbarians, he wanted the
help of the written oracle for his assistance.

The young woman was very glad of it also for the present
occasion, though she had one, ind so had the youth, on board our
ship among their goods, which were not yet brought on shore.
And now having said so many things of this young woman, I
cannot omit telling one story more of her and myself, which has
something in it very informing and remarkable.

I have related to what extremity the poor young woman was
reduced ; how her mistress was starved to death, and did die on
board that unhappy ship we inet at sea; and how the whole ship's
company being reduced to the last extremity, the gentlewoman
and her son and this maid were first hardly used as to provisions,
and at last totally neglected and starved; that is to say, brought
to the last extremity of hunger.

One day being discoursing with her upon the extremities they
suffered, I asked her if she could describe by what she had felt
what it was to starve, and how it appeared. She told me she
believed she could, and she told her tale very distinctly thus :—

“First, sir,” said she, “we had for some days fared exceeding
hard, and suffered very great hunger; but now at last we were
604 SUFFERING FROM FAMINE,

wholly without food of any kind, except sugar and a little wine
and a little water. he first day after I had received no food at
all, [found myself towards evening first empty and sickish at my
stomach, and nearer night, mightily inclined to yawning and
sleepy. T lay down on a couch in the great cabin to sleep, and
slept about three hours, and awaked a little refreshed, having
taken a glass of wine when T lay down. After being about three
hours awake, it being about five o'clock in the morning, I found
myself empty, and my stomach sickish, and lay down again, but
could not sleep at all, being very faint and ill; and thus I con-
tinued all the second day with a strange variety, first hungry, then
sick again, with retchings to vomit. The second night, being
obliged to go to bed again without any food more than a draught
of fair water, and being asleep, I dreamed Twas at Barbadoes, and
that the market was mightily stocked with provisions; that I
bought son:e for my mistress, and went and dined very heartily.

“T thought my stomach was as full after this as any would
have been after, or at a good dinner; but when T waked, I was
exceedingly sunk in spirits to find myself in the extremity of
famine. ‘Che last glass of wine we had T drank, end put sugar in
it, because of its having some spirit to supply nourishment; but
there being no substance in the stomach for the digesting office
to work upon, I found the only effect of the wine was to raise
disagreeable fumes from the stomach into the head; and T lay, as
they told me, stupid and senseless, as one drunk for some time.

“The third day, in the morning, after a night of strange and
confused inconsistent dreams, and rather dozing than sleeping, I
waked ravenous and furious with hunger; and I question, had not
my understanding returned and conquered it—I say I question
whether, if I had been a mother, and had had a little child with
me, its life would have been safe or not.

“This lasted about three hours, during which time I was twice
raging mad as any creature in Bedlam, as my young master told
me, and as he can now inform you.

“Tn one of these fits of lunacy or distraction, whether by the
motion of the ship or some slip of my foot, I know not, I fell
down and struck my face against the corner of a pallet bed, in
THE EXTREM OF SUFFERING. 506

which my mistress lay, and with the blow the blood gushed out
of my nose; and the cabin-boy bringing me a little basin, I sat
down and bled into it a great deal, and as the blood ran from me
I came to myself, and the violence of the flame or the fever I was
in abated, and so did the ravenous part of the hunger.

“Then I grew sick, and retched to vomit, but could not, for I
had nothing in my stomach to bring up. After I had bled some
time I swooned, and they all believed I was dead ; but I came to
myself soon after, and then had a most dreadful pain in my
stomach, not to be described—not like the colic, but a gnawing
eager pain for food; and towards night it went off with a kind of
earnest wishing or longing for fool—something like, as I suppose,
the longing of a woman with child. I took another draught of
water with sugar in it, but my stomach loathed the sugar, and
brought it all up again; then I took a draught of water without
sugar, and that stayed with me; and I laid me down upon the
bed, praying most heartily that it would please God to take me
away ; and composing my mind in hopes of it, I slumbered awhile,
and then waking, thought myself dying, being light with vapours
from an empty stomach. I recommended my soul then to God,
and earnestly wished that somebody would throw me into the
sea,

“All this while my mistress lay by me, just, as I thought,
expiring, but bore it with much more patience than I; and gave
the last bit of bread she had left to her child, my young master,
who would not have taken it, but she obliged him to eat it; and
I believe it saved his life.

“Towards the morning I slept again, and first when I awaked
T fell into a violent passion of crying, and after that I had a second
fit of violent hunger. I got up ravenous, and in a most dreadful
condition. Had my mistress been dead, as much as I loved her,
I am certain I should have eaten a piece of her flesh with as much
relish and as unconcerned as ever I did the flesh of any creature
appointed for food; and once or twice I was going to bite my own
arm. At last I saw the basin in which was the blood I had bled
at my nose the day before. I ran to it, and swallowed it with
such haste and such a greedy appetite as if I had wondered
506 HUNGER A DISEASE,

nobody had taken it before, and afraid it would be taken from
me now.

“Though, after it was down, the thoughts of it filled me with
horror, yet it checked the fit of hunger; and I drank a draught
of fair water, and was composed and refreshed for some hours atter
it. This was the fourth day, and thus I held it, till towards night,
when, within the compass of three hours, I had all these several
circumstances over again, one after another—namely, sick, sleepy,
eagerly hungry, pain in the stomach, then ravenous again, then
sick again, then lunatic, then crying, then ravenous again; and so
every quarter of an hour, and my strength wasted exceedingly.
At night I laid me down, having no comfort but in the hope that
[ should die before morning.

“ All this night I had no sleep; but the hunger was now turned
into a disease, and I had a terrible colic and griping by wind,
instead of food, having found its way into the bowels. And in this
condition I lay until morning, when I was surprised a little with
the cries and lamentations of my young master, who called out to
me that his mother was dead. TI lifted myself up a little, for I
had not strength to rise; but found she was not dead, though she
was able to give very little signs of life.

“Thad then such convulsions in my stomach, for want of some
sustenance, that I cannot describe, with such frequent throes and
pangs of appetite that nothing but the tortures of death can imi-
tate. And in this condition I was when I heard the seamen above
ery out, ‘A sail! a sail!’ and halloo and jump about as if they
were distracted.

“T was not able to get off from the bed, and my mistress much
less; and my young master was so sick that I thought he had been
expiring ; so we could not open the cabin door, or get any account
what it was that occasioned such a combustion, nor had we any
conversation with the ship’s company for two days, they having
told us that they had not a mouthful of anything to eat in the ship;
and they told us afterwards they thought we had been dead.

“Tt was this dreadful condition we were in when you were sent
to save our lives; and how you found us, sir, you know as well as
L, and better too.”
CRUSOE AND HIS COLONISTS, 507

This was her own relation, and is such a distinct account of
starving to death as I confess I never met with, and was exceeding
entertaining to me. Iam the rather apt to believe it to be a true
account, because the youth gave me an account of a good part of it,
though, I must own, not so distinct and so feelingly as his maid ;
and the rather, because it seems his mother fed him at the price of her
ownlife. But the poor maid, though her constitution being stronger
than that of her mistress, who was in years, and a weakly woman
too, she might struggle harder with it; I say, the poor maid
might be supposed to feel the extremity something sooner than
her mistress, who might be allowed to keep the last bit something
longer than she parted with any to relieve the maid. No question,
as the case is here related, if our ship, or some other, had not so pro-
videntially met them, a few days more would have ended all their
lives, unless they had prevented it by eating one another ; and even
that, as their case stood, would have served them but a little while,
they being five hundred leagues from any land or any possibility of
relief other than in the miraculous manner it happened, but this is
by the way. I return to my disposition of things among the people.

And, first, it is to be observed here, that for many reasons I
did not think fit to let them know anything of the sloop I had
framed, and which I thought of setting up among them; for I
found, at least at my first coming, such seeds of divisions among
them, that I saw it plainly, had I set up the sloop and left it
among them, they would upon every light disgust have separated,
and gone away from one another; or perhaps have turned pirates,
and so made the island a den of thieves, instead of a plantation of
sober and religious people, so as I intended it. Nor did I leave
the two pieces of brass cannon that I had on board, or the two
quarter-deck guns that my nephew took extraordinarily, for the
same reason. I thought it was enough to qualify them for a de-
fensive war against any that should invade them; but not to set
them up for an offensive war, or to encourage them to go abroad
to attack others, which in the end would only bring ruin and de-
struction upon themselves and all their undertaking. I reserved
the sloop, therefore, and the guns for their service another way, as
T shall observe in its place.
508 FAREWELL TO THE ISLAND,

   
  
 

= aS

E'ITAV Is now done with the scleains I left them
al in good circumstances, and in a flourishing
condition, and went on board my ship again
‘the 5th ie of May, having been five and twenty
t\)\,sdays among them; and as they were all re-
solved to stay upon the island until I came
3 to remove them, I promised to send some
further relief’ from the Brazils, if T ae possibly find an opportu-
nity; and particularly, I promised to send them some cattle, such
as sheep, hogs, and cows; for as to the two cows and calves which
I brought from England, we had been obliged by the length of
our voyage to kill them at sea, for want of hay to feed them.

The next day, giving them a salute of five guns at parting, we
set sail, and arrived at the Bay of All Saints in the Brazils in
about twenty-two days, meeting nothing remarkable in our passage
but this,—that about three days after we sailed, being becalmed,
and the current setting strong to the east-north-east, running, as
it were, into a bay or gulf on the land side, we were driven some-
thing out of our course, and once or twice our men cried, “ Land
to the eastward; ” but whether it was the continent or islands we
could not tell by any means.

But the third day towards evening, the sea smooth, and the
weather calm, we saw the sea as it were covered towards the land
with something very black. Not being able to discover what it
was until after some time, our chief mate going up the main
shrouds a little way and looking at them with a perspective, cried
out it was an army. I could not imagine what he meant by an
army, and spoke a Eee > hastily, calling the fellow a fool, or some such
word. “ Nay, sir,” says he, “don’t be angry, for ’tis an army and
a fleet too, for I believe there are a thousand canoes; and you may
see them paddle along, and they are coming towards us, ton, apiace. ’
AN ATTACK FROM SAVAGES, 508

JT was a little surprised then, indeed, and so was my nephew the
eaptain; for he had heard such terrible stories of them in the island,
and having never been in those seas before, that he could not tell
what to think of it, but said two or three times we should all be
devoured. I must confess, considering we were becalmed, and the
current set strong towards the shore, I liked it the worse. How-
ever, I bade him not be afraid, but bring the ship to an anchor as
soon as we came so near to know that we must engage them.

The weather continued calm, and they came on apace towards
us; so I gave order to come to an anchor, and furl all our sails.
As for the savages, I told them they had nothing to fear but fire;
and therefore they should get their boats out and fasten them, one
close by the head, and the other by the stern, and man them both
well, and wait the issue in that posture. This I did, that the men
in the boats might be ready with skects and buckets to put out
any fire these savages might endeavour to fix to the outside of the
ship.

In this posture we lay by for them, and in a little while they
eame up with us; but never was such a horrid sight seen by Chris-
tians. My mate was much mistaken in his calculation of their
number, I mean of a thousand canoes; the most we could make of
them, when they came up, being about a hundred and six and twenty :
and a great many of them too; for some of them had sixteen or
seventeen men in them, and some more, and the least six or seven.

When they came nearer to us they seemed to be struck with
wonder and astonishment, as at a sight which they had doubtless
never seen before; nor could they at first, as we afterwards under-
stood, know what to make of us. They came boldly up, however,
very near to us, and seemed to go about to row round us; but we
called to our men in the boats not to let them come too near them.

This very order brought us to an engagement with them with-
out our designing it; for five or six of their large canoes came so
near our longboat, that our men beckoned with their hands to
them to keep back, which they understood very well, and went
hack; but at their retreat about fifty arrows came on board us
from those boats, and one of our men in the longboat was very
much wounded,
310 DEATH OF FRIDAY,

However [ called to them not to fire by any means; but we handed
down some deal boards into the boat, and the carpenters presently
set up a kind of fence, like waste boards, to cover them from the
arrows of the savages, if they should shoot again.

About half an hour afterwards they came all wp in a body astern
of us, and pretty near us, so near that we could easily discern what
they were, though we could not tell their design. And I easily
found they were some of my old friends, the same sort of savages
that [ had been used to engage with; and in a little time more
they rowed a little further out to sea, until they came directly
broadside with us, and then rowed down straight upon us, until they
came so near that they could hear us speak. Upon this I ordered
all my men to keep close, lest they should shoot any more arrows,
and made all our guns ready: but being so near as to be within
hearing, [ made Friday go out upon the deck, and call out aloud
to them in his language to know what they meant; which accord-
ingly he did. Whether they understood him or not, that T know
not; but as soon as he had called to them, six of them, who were
in the foremost or nighest boat to us, turned their canoes
from us, and seemed to intimate to us by their extraordinary
actions that they were not afraid of anything we might do.
Whether this was a defiance or challenge we know not, or whether
it was done in mere contempt, or as a signal to the rest; but inn-
mediately Friday cried out they were going to shoot, and unhappily
for him, poor fellow, they let fly about three hundred of their
arrows, and, to my inexpressible grief, killed poor Friday, no other
man being in their sight.

The poor fellow was shot with no less than three arrows, and about
three more fell very near him; such unlucky marksmen they were.

U was so enraged with the loss of my old servant, the companion
of all my sorrows and solitudes, that I immediately ordered five
guns to be loaded with small shot, and four with great, and gave
them such a broadside as they had never heard in their lives before,
to be sure.

They were not above half a cable length off when we fired, and
our gunners took their aim so well that three or four of their canoes
were overset, as we had reason to believe, by one shot only.
HOW HE WAS AVENGED, 511

 

“ ONHAPPILY FOR HIM, THEY CET FLY ABOUT THREE HUNDRED
OF THEIR ARROWS.”

The ill manners of turning up their bare backsides to us gave
us no great offence, neither did I know for certain whether that
which would pass tor the greatest contempt among us might be
understood so by them or not; therefore, in return, I had only
resolved to have fired four or five guns at them with powder only,
which I knew would fright them sufficiently. But when they shot
at us directly with all the fury they were capable of, and especi-
ally as they had killed my poor Friday, whom I so entirely loved
and valued, and who indeed so well deserved it, I not only had
heen justitied before God and man, but would have been very glad,
if I could, to have overset. every canoe there, and drowned every
one of them.

T can neither tell how many we killed nor how many we wounded
at this broadside; but sure such a fright and hurry never was seen

(984: 33
612 A SULLEN PRISONER,

ainong such a multitude. ‘There were thirteen or fourteen of their
canoes split and overset in all, and the men all set a-swimming; the
rest, frighted out of their wits, scoured away as fast as they could,
taking but little care to save those whose boats were split or spoiled
with our shot. So I suppose that they were many of them ost.
And our men took one poor fellow swimming for his life, above
an hour after they were all gone.

Our small shot from our cannon must needs kill and wound a
great many; but, in short, we never knew anything how it went
with them, for they fled so fast, that in three hours or thereabouts
we could not see above three or four straggling canoes; nor did we
ever see the rest any more, for a breeze of wind springing up the
same evening, we weighed and set sail for the Brazils.

We had a prisoner, indeed, but the creature was so sullen that
he would neither cat nor speak, and we all fancied he would starve
himself to death, But I took a way to cure him, for I made them
take him and turn him into the longboat, and made him believe
they would toss him into the sea again, and so leave him where
they found him, if he would not speak. Nor would that do; but
they really did throw him into the sea, and came away from
him; and then he followed them, for he swam like a cork, and
called to them in his tongue, though they knew not one word of
what he said. However, at last they took him in again, and then
he began to be more tractable, nor did I ever design they should
drown him.

We were now under sail again; but I was the most disconsolate
creature alive for want of my man Friday, and would have been
very glad to have gone back to the island, to have taken one of the
rest from thence for my occasion, but it could not be; so we went
on. We had one prisoner, as I have said, and ’twas a long while
before we could make him understand anything; but, in time, our
men taught him some Hnglish, and he began to be a little tract-
able. Afterwards we inquired what country he came from, but
could make nothing of what he said; for his speech was so odd,
all gutturals, and spoken in the throat in such a hollow, odd manner,
that we could never form a word from him: and we were all of

opinion that they might speak that language as well if they were
ARRIVAL AT BRAZIL. 618

gagged, as otherwise. Nor could we perceive that they had any
occasion either for teeth, tongue, lips, or palate, but formed their
words just as a hunting-horn forms a tune with an open throat.
He told us, however, some time after, when we taught him to
speak a little English, that they were going with their kings to
fight a great battle. When he said kings, we asked him how many
kings? He said they were rive NaTIoN,—we could not make him
understand the plural s,—and that they all joined to go against
‘wo NATION. We asked him what made them come up to us? He
said, “‘ To makee te great wonder look; ”’ where it is to be observed
that all those natives, as also those of Africa, when they learn
English, they always add two e’s at the end of the words where
we use one, and make the accent upon them, as makée, takéeé, and
the like; and we could not break them of it; nay, I could hardly
make Friday leave it off, though at last he did.

And now I name the poor fellow once more, I must take my
last leave of him; poor, honest Friday! We buried him with all
the decency and solemnity possible, by putting him into a coffin,
and throwing him into the sea. And I caused them to fire eleven
guns for him; and so ended the life of the most grateful, faithful,
honest, and most affectionate servant that ever man had.

We went now away with a fair wind for Brazil, and in about
twelve days’ time we made land in the latitude of five degrees south
of the line, being the north-easternmost land of all that part of
America. We kept on south by east in sight of the shore four
days, when we made Cape St. Augustine, and in three days came
to an anchor off of the Bay of All Saints, the old place of my de-
liverance, from whence came both my good and evil fate.

Never ship came to this part that had less business than I had:
and yet it was with great difficulty that we were admitted to hold
the least correspondence on shore. Not my planter himself, who
was alive, and made a great figure among them; not my two mer-
chants’ trustees; not the fame of my wonderful preservation in that
island, could obtain me that favour. But my partner, remember-
ing that I had given five hundred moidores to the prior of the
monastery of the Augustines, and two hundred and seventy-two to
the poor, went to the monastery, and obliged the prior that then
514 CRUSOE AND HIS PARTNER.

was to go to the governor and get leave for me personally, with
the captain and one more, besides eight seamen, to come on shore,
and no more; and this upon condition, absolutely capitulated for,
that we should not offer to land any goods out of the ship, or to
carry any person away without license.

They were so strict with us as to landing any goods, that it was
with extreme difficulty that I got on shore three bales of English
goods, such as fine broadcloths, stuffs, and some linen, which I had
brought for a present to my partner.

He was a very generous, broad-hearted man, though like me, he
came from little at first; and though he knew not that I had the
least design of giving him anything, he sent me on board a present
of fresh provisions, wine, and sweetmeats, worth above thirty
moidores, including some tobacco, and three or four fine medals in
gold. But Twas even with him in my present, which, as T have
said, consisted of fine broadcloth, English stuffs, lace, and fine
Hollands, Also I delivered him about the value of one hundred
pounds sterling in the same goods, for other uses; and I obliged
him to set up the sloop which I had brought with me from Hng-
land, as I have said, for the use of my colony, in order to send the
refreshments I intended to my plantation.

Accordingly he got hands, and finished the sloop in a very few
days, for she was ready framed; and I gave the master of her such
instructions as he could not miss the place, nor did he miss them,
as I had an account from iay partner afterwards. I got him soon
loaded with the small cargo I sent them; and one of our seamen
that had been on shore with me there offered to go with the sloop
and settle there, upon my letter to the governor Spaniard to allot
him a sufficient quantity of land for a plantation, and giving him
some clothes, and tools for his planting work, which he said he
understood, having been an old planter at Maryland, and a bucca-
necr into the bargain.

I encouraged the fellow, by granting all he desired; and as an
addition, I gave him the savage which we had taken prisoner of
war to be his slave, and ordered the governor Spaniard to give him
his share of everything he wanted with the rest.

When we came to fit this man out, my old partner told me
SUPPLIES FOR THE COLONY. 615

there was a certain very honest fellow, a Brazil planter of his ac-
quaintance, who had fallen into the displeasure of the Church. “I
know not what the matter is with him,” says he, “ but on my con-
acience I think he is a heretic in his heart, and he has been obliged
to conceal himself for fear of the Inquisition; that he would be
very glad of such an opportunity to make his escape with his wife
and two daughters; and if I would let them go to the island, and
allot them a plantation, he would give them a small stock to begin
with ; for the officers of the Inquisition had seized all his effects and
estate, and he had nothing left but a little household stuff, and
two slaves. And,” adds he, “ though I hat Lis principles, yet I
would not have him fall into their hands; 1. he would assuredly
be burnt alive, if he did.”

I granted this presently, and joined my Englishman with them,
and we concealed the man and his wife and daughters on board
our ship till the sloop put out to go to sea, and then, having put
all their goods on board the sloop some time before, we put them
on board the sloop after he was got out of the bay.

Our seaman was mightily pleased with this new partner; and
their stock, indeed, was much alike, rich in tools, in preparations,
and a farm, but nothing to begin with, but as above. However,
they carried over with them, which was worth all the rest, some
materials for planting sugar-canes, with some plants of canes,
which he, I mean the Portugal man, understood very well.

Among the rest of the supplies sent my tenants in the island, I
sent them by their sloop three milch cows and five calves, about
twenty-two hogs among them, three sows big with pig, two
mares, and a stone-horse.

For my Spaniards, according to my promise, I engaged three
Portugal women to go; and recommended it to them to marry
them, and use them kindly. I could have procured more women,
but I remembered that the poor persecuted man had two daugh-
ters, and there were but tive of the Spaniards that wanted; the
rest had wives of their own, though in another country.

All this cargo arrived safe, and, as you may easily suppose, very
welcome to my old inhabitants, who were now, with this addition,
between sixty and seventy people, besides little children; of which
516 “UNSTABLE AS WATER.”

there were a great many. I found letters at London from them all
by the way of Lisbon, when I came back to Mngland; of which I
shall also take some notice immediately.

Thave now done with my island, and all manner of discourse
about it; and whoever reads the rest of my memorandums would
do well to turn his thoughts entirely from it, and expect to read
of the follies of an old man, not warned by his own harms, much
less by those of other men, to beware of the like; not cooled by
almost forty years’ misery and disappointments, not satisfied with
prosperity beyond expectation, not made cautious by affliction and
distress beyond imitation,

LT had no more business to go to the Hast Indies, than a man at
full liberty, and having committed no crime, has to go to the
turnkey at Newgate, and desire him to lock him up among the
prisoners there, and starve him. Had T taken a small vessel from
England, and went directly to the island; had I loaded her, as I
did the other vessel, with all the necessaries for the plantation and
for my people, took a patent from the governor here to have
secured my property, In subjection only to that of Kngland; had
I carried over cannon and ammunition, servants and people, ta
plant, and, taking possession of the place, fortified and strengthened
it in the name of Kngland, and increased it with people, as I
might easily have done; had I then settled myself there, and sent
the ship back loaded with good rice, as I might also have done in
six months’ time, and ordered my friends to have fitted her out
again for our supply ; had I done this, and stayed there myself, I
had, at least, acted like a man of common sense. But I was pos-
sessed with a wandering spirit, scorned all advantages. I pleased
myself with being the patron of those people I placed there, and
dving for them in a kind of haughty, majestic way, like an old
patriarchal monarch ; providing for them as if I had been father
of the whole family, as well as of the plantation. But I never so
much as pretended to plant in the name of any government or
nation, or to acknowledge any prince, or to call my people subjects
to any one nation more than another; nay, I never so much as
gave the place a name, but left it as I found it, belonging to no
man, and the people under no discipline or government but my
ON A WILD-GOOSE CHASE, 617

wwn; who, though I had influence over them as father and bene-
factor, had no authority or power to act or command one way
or other, further than voluntary consent moved them to comply.
Yet even this, had I stayed there, would have done well enough.
But as I rambled from them, and came there no more, the last
letters I had from any of them was by my partner’s means, who
afterwards sent another sloop to the place, and who sent me word
(though I had not the letter till five years after it was written),
that they went on but poorly, were malcontent with their long
stay there; that Will Atkins was dead; that five of the Spaniards
were come away; and that though they had not been much mo-
lested by the savages, yet they had had some skirmishes with
them; and that they begged of him to write to me, to think of
the promise I had made, to fetch them away, that they might see
their own country again before they died.

But I was gone a wild-goose chase indeed; and they that will
have any more of me must be content to follow me through a new
variety of follies, hardships, and wild adventures, wherein the
justice of Providence may be duly observed, and we may see how
easily Heaven can gorge us with our own desires, make the
strongest of our wishes be our affliction, and punish us most
severely with those very things which we think it would be our
utmost happiness to be allowed in.

Let no wise man flatter himself with the strength of his own
judgment, as if he were able to choose any particular station of
life for himself. Man is a short-sighted creature, sees but a
very little way before him; and as his passions are none of his
best friends, so his particular affections are generally his worst
counsellors.

I say this with respect to the impetuous desire I had from a
youth to wander into the world, and how evident it now was that
this principle was preserved in me for my punishment. How it
came on, the manner, the circumstance, and the conclusion of it,
it is easy to give you historically, and with its utmost variety of
particulars. But the secret ends of divine power, in thus per-
mitting us to be hurried down the stream of our own desires, is
only to be understood of those who can listen to the voice of Pro-
518 A VISIT TO THE CAPE.

vidence, and draw religious consequences from Gud’s justice and
their own mistakes.

Be it I had business, or no business, away I went. “Tis no
time now to enlarge any further upon the reason or absurdity of
my own conduct ; but to come to the history, I was embarked for
the voyage, and the voyage I went.

I should only add here, that my honest and truly pious clergy-
man left me here. A ship being ready to go to Lisbon, he asked
me leave to go thither, being still, as he observed, bound never to
finish any voyage he began. How happy had it been for me if I
had gone with him!

But it was too late now. All things Heaven appoints are best.
Had I gone with him I had never had so many things to be thank-
ful for, and you had never heard of the Second Part of the Travels
and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe. So I must leave here the
fruitless exclaiming at myself, and go on with my voyage.

From the Brazils, we made directly away over the Atlantic Sea,
to the Cape de Bon Esperance, or, as we call it, the Cape of Good
Hope, and had a tolerable good voyage, our course generally
south-east ; now and then a storm, and some contrary winds. But
my disasters at sea were at an end. My future rubs and cross
events were to befall me on shore, that it might appear the Jand
was as well prepared to be our scourge as the sea, when Heaven,
who directs the circumstances of things, pleases to appoint it to
be so.

Our ship was on a trading voyage, and had a supercargo on
board, who was to direct all her motions after she arrived at the
Cape, only being limited to certain numbers of days for stay, by
charter-party, at the several ports she was to go to. This was
none of my business, neither did I meddle with it at all ; my
nephew, the captain, and the supercargo adjusting all those
things between them as they thought fit.

We made no stay at the Cape longer than was needful to take
in fresh water, but made the best of our way for the coast of Cor-
omandel. We were indeed informed that a French man-of-war
of fifty guns, and two large merchant-ships, were gone for the
Indies ; and as I knew we were at war with France, I had some
A MALAGASY CUSTOM. 619

apprehensions of them. But they went their way, and we heaid
no more of them.

T shall not pester my account, or the reader, with descriptions
of places, journals of our voyages, variations of the compass, lati-
tudes, meridian distances, trade winds, situation of ports, and the
like, such as almost all the histories of long navigation are full of,
and makes the reading tiresome enough, and are perfectly unpro-
fitable to all that read it, except only to those who are to go to
those places themselves.

It is enough to name the ports and places which we touched at,
and what occurred to us upon our passing from one to another.
We touched first at the Island of Madagascar, where, though the
people are fierce and treacherous, and, in particular, very well
urmed with lances and bows, which they use with inconceivable
dexterity, yet we fared very well with them a while: they treated
us very civilly, and for some trifles which we gave them, such as
knives, scissors, d&c., they brought us eleven good fat bullocks,
middling in size, but very good in flesh; which we took in partly
for fresh provisions for our present spending, and the rest to salt
for the ship’s use.

We were obliged to stay here some time after we had furnished
ourselves with provisions; and I, that was always too curious to
look into every nook of the world wherever I came, was for going
on shore as often as I could. It was on the east side of the island
that we went on shore, one evening; and the people, who, by the
way, are very numerous, came thronging about us, and stood
gazing at us at a distance. But as we had traded freely with
them, and had been kindly used, we thought ourselves in no
danger. But when we saw the people, we cut three boughs out
of a tree, and stuck them up at a distance from us; which, it
seems, is a mark in the country, not only of truce and friendship,
but, when it is accepted, the other side set up three poles or
boughs, which is a signal that they accept the truce too. But
then, this is a known condition of the truce, that you are not to
pass between their three poles towards them, nor they to come
past your three poles or boughs towards you; so that you are
perfectly secure within the three poles, and all the space hetween
520 A NIGHT SURPRISH.

your poles and theirs is allowed, like a market, for free converse,
traffic, and commerce. When you go there, you must not carry
your weapons with you ; and if they come into that space, they
stick up their javelins and lances all at the first poles, and come on
unarmed; but if any violence is offered them, and the truce there-
by broken, away they run to the poles and lay hold of their
weapons, and then the truce is at an end.

It happened one evening when we went on shore, that a greater
number of their people came down than usual; but all was very
friendly and civil, and they brought in several kinds of provisions,
for which we satisfied them with such toys as we had. Their
women also brought us milk and roots, and several things very
acceptable to us; and all was quiet. And we made us a little
tent, or hut, of some boughs of trees, and lay on shore all night.

[ knew not what was the oecasion, but I was not so well satis-
fied to lie on shore as the rest; and the boat lying at an anchor,
about a stone-cast from the land, with two men in her to take care
of her, | made one of them come on shore, and getting some
boughs of trees to cover us also in the boat, [spread the sail on
the bottom of the boat, and lay under the cover of the branches of
trees all night in the boat.

About two o'clock in the morning, we heard one of our men
make a terrible noise on the shore, calling out for God’s sake to
bring the boat in, and come and help them, for they were all like
to be murdered. At the same time [ heard the firing of five
muskets, which was the number of the guns they had, and that
three times over; for it seems the natives here were not so easily
{righted with guns as the savages were in America, where [ had
to do with them.

All this while 1 knew not what was the matter; but rousing
immediately from sleep with the noise, [ caused the boat to be
thrust in, and resolved, with three fusils we had on board, to land
and assist our men.

We got the boat soon to the shore. But our men were in too
much haste ; for being come to the shore, they plunged into the
water to get to the boat with all the expedition they could, being
pursned by between three and four hundred men, Our men were
HELP AT HAND. 621

but nine in all, and only five of them had fusils with them; the rest
had indeed pistols and swords, but they were of small use to them.

We took up seven of our men, and with difficulty enough too,
three of them being very ill wounded. And that which was. still
worse was, that while we stood in thé boat to take our men in, we
were in as much danger as they were in on shore; for they poured
their arrows in upon us so thick, that we were fain to barricade
the side of the boat up with the benches, and two or three loose
boards, which, to our great satisfaction, we had by mere accident
or providence in the boat.

And yet, had it been daylight, they are, it seems, such exact
marksmen, that if they could have seen but the least part of any
of us, they would have been sure of us. We had, by the light of
the moon, a little sight of them, as they stood pelting us from the
shore with darts and arrows: and having got ready our fire-arms,
we gave them a volley, that we could hear by the cries of some of
them that we had wounded several. However, they stood thus in
battle array on the shore till break of day; which, we suppose, was
that they might see the better to take their aim at us.

In this condition we lay, and could not tell how to weigh our
anchor or set up our sail, because we must needs stand up in the
boat, and they were as sure to hit us as we were to hit a
bird in a tree with small shot. We made signals of distress to
the ship, which, though we rode a league off, yet my nephew, the
captain, hearing our firing, and by glasses perceiving the posture
we lay in, and that we fired towards the shore, pretty well under-
stood us; and weighing anchor with all speed, he stood as near
the shore as he durst with the ship, and then sent another boat
with ten hands in her to assist us. But we called to them not to
come too near, telling them what condition we were in. How-
ever, they stood in nearer to us; and one of the men taking the
end of a tow-line in his hand, and keeping our boat between him
and the enemy, so that they could not perfectly see him, swam on
board us, and made fast the line to the boat; upon which we
slipped our little cable, and leaving our anchor behind, they towed
us out of reach of the arrows, we all the while lying close behind
the barricado we had made.
622 HOW THE AFFRAY ROSE.

As soon as we were got from between the ship and the shore,
that she could lay her side to the shore, she ran along just by
them, and we poured in a broadside among them, loaded with
pieces of iron and lead, small bullets, and such stuff, besides the
great shot; which made a terrible havoc amongst them.

When we were got on board and out of danger, we had time to
examine into the occasion of this fray. And, indeed, our super-
cargo, who had been often in those parts, put me upon it; for, he
said. he was sure the inhabitants would not have touched us after
we had made a truce, if we had not done something to provoke
them to it. At length it came out; namely, that an old woman,
who had come to sell us some milk, had brought it within our
poles, with a young woman with her, who also brought some
roots or herbs ; and while the old woman, (whether she was mother
to the young woman or no, they could not tell,) was selling us
the milk, one of our men offered some rudeness to the wench that
was with her, at which the old woman made a great noise. How-
ever, the seaman would not quit his prize, but carried her out of
the old woman's sight among the trees, it being almost dark.
The old woman went away without her, and, as we suppose, made
an outcry among the people she came from, who, upon notice,
raised this great army upon us in three or four hours; and it was
great odds but we had been all destroyed.

One of our men was killed with a lance thrown at him just at
the beginning of the attack, as he sallied out of the tent they had
made. The rest came off free, all but the fellow who was the
oceasion of all the mischief, who paid dear enough for his black
mistress; for we could not hear what became of him a great while.
We lay upon the shore two days after, though the wind presented,
and made signals for him; made our boat sail up shore and down
shore several leagues, but in vain. So we were obliged to give
him over; and if he alone had suffered for it, the loss had been
the less.

I could not satisfy myself, however, without venturing on shore
once more, to try if I could learn anything of him or them. It
was the third night after the action, that I had a great mind to
learn, if T could by any means, what mischief we had done, and
COUNTING THE DEAD, 528

how the game stood on the Indians’ side. I was careful to do it
in the dark, lest we should be attacked again; but I ought indeed
to have been sure that the men I went with had been under my
command before I engaged in a thing so hazardous and mis-
chievous as I was brought into by it without my knowledge or
design.

We took twenty stout fellows with us as any in the ship, besides
the supercargo and myself, and we landed two hours before mid-
night, at the same place where the Indians stood drawn up the
evening before. I landed here because my design, as I have said,
was chiefly to see if they had quitted the field, and if they had
left any marks behind them of the mischief we had done them.
And I thought if we could surprise one or two of them, perhaps
we might get our man again by way of exchange.

We landed without any noise, and divided our men into two
bodies, whereof the boatswain commanded one and I the other.
We neither saw nor heard anybody stir when we landed, and we
marched up one body at a distance from the other to the place ;
but at first could see nothing, it being very dark, till, by-and-by,
our boatswain, that led the first party, stumbled, and fell over a
dead body. This made them halt a while, for knowing by the
circumstance that they were at the place where the Indians had
stood, they waited for my coming up. Here we concluded to halt
till the moon began to rise, which we knew would be in less than
an hour, when we could easily discern the havoc we had made
among them. We told two and thirty bodies upon the ground,
whereof two were not quite dead. Some had an arm, and some a
leg shot off, and one his head; those that were wounded, we sup-
posed, they had carried away.

When we had made, as I thought, a full discovery of all we
could come at the knowledge of, I was resolved for going on board ;
but the boatswain and his party sent me word that they were re-
solved to make a visit to the Indian town, where these dogs, as
they called them, dwelt, and asked me to go along with them;
and if they could find them, as still they fancied they should, they
did not doubt getting a good booty, and it might be they might
find Thomas Jeffery there: that was the man’s name we had lost.
524 BENT UPON REVENGE,

Had they sent to ask my leave to go, T knew well enough what
answer to have given them; for I would have commanded them
instantly on board, knowing it was not a hazard fit for us to rnn,
who had a ship and ship-loading in our charge, and a voyage to
make, which depended very much upon the lives of the men; but
as they sent me word they were resolved to go, and only asked me
and my company to go along with them, I positively refused it,
and rose up, for I was sitting on the ground, in order to go to the
boat. One or two of the men began to importune me to go, ani
when I refused positively, began to grumble, and say they were
not under my command, and they would go. “ Come, Jack,”
says one of the men, ‘will you go with me? I'll go for one.”
Jaek said he would, and another followed, and then another ; and in
a word, they all left me but one, whom T persuaded to stay, and a
boy left in the boat. So the supereargo and I, with the third man,
went back to the boat, where we told them we would stay for
them, and take care to take in as many of them as should be left ;
for I told them it was a mad thing they were going about, and
supposed most of them would run the fate of Thomas Jeffery.

They told me, like seamen, they'd warrant it they would come off
again, and they would take care, &c. So away they went. I
entreated them to consider the ship and voyage; that their lives
were not their own, and that they were intrusted with the voyage
in some measure; that if they miscarried, the ship might be lost
for want of their help, and that they could not answer it to God
or man. I said a great deal more to them on that head, but I
might as well have talked to the mainmast of the ship; they were
mad upon their journey, only they gave me good words, and
begged I would not be angry; that they would be very cautious,
and they did not doubt but they would be back again in about an
hour at furthest; for the Indian town, they said, was not above
half a mile off, though they found it above two miles before they
got to it.

Well, they all went away as above; and though the attempt
was desperate, and such as none but mad men would have gone
about, yet, to give them their due, they went about it as warily
as boldly. They were gallantly armed, that’s true; for they bad
ATTACK ON THE TOWN. 526

every man a fusil or musket, a bayonet, and every man a pistol ;
some of them had broad cutlasses, some of them hangers, and the
hoatswain and two more had pole-axes; besides all which, they
had among them thirteen hand-grenadoes. Bolder fellows, and
better provided, never went about any wicked work in the world.

When they went out their chief design was plunder, and they
were in mighty hopes of finding gold there; but a circumstance
which none of them were aware of set them on fire with revenge,
and made devils of them all. When they came to the few Indian
houses which they thought had been the town, which was not
above half a mile off, they were under a great disappointment ;
for there were not above twelve or thirteen houses, and where the
town was, or how big, they knew not. They consulted, therefore,
what to do, and were some time before they could resolve; for if
they fell upon these, they must cut all their throats, and it was
ten to one but some of them might escape, it being in the night,
though the moon was up; and if one escaped, he would run away,
and raise all the town, so they should have a whole army upon
them. Again, on the other hand, if they went away and left those
untouched (for the people were all asleep) they could not tell which
way to look for the town.

However, the last was the best advice; so they resolved to leave
them, and look for the town as well as they could. They went
ona little way, and found a cow tied toatree. This they presently
concluded would be a good guide to them, for they said the cow
certainly belonged to the town before them, or the town behind
them ; and if they untied her they should see which way she went:
if she went back, they had nothing to say to her, but if she went
forward, they had nothing to do but to follow her. So they cut the
cord, which was made of twisted flags, and the cow went on before
them. In a word, the cow Jed them directly to the town, which,
as they report, consisted of above two hundred houses or huts, and
in some of these they found several families living together.

Here they found all in silence as profoundly secure as sleep and
a country that had never seen an enemy of that kind could make
them ; and, first, they called another council, to consider what they
had to do; and, in a word, they resolved to divide themselves into
626 A MASSACRE OF INDIANS.

three bodies, and to set three houses on fire in three parts of the
town, and as the men came out, to seize them and bind them (if
any resisted, they need not be asked what to do then), and so to
search the rest of the houses for plunder; but they resolved to
march silently first. through the town, and see what dimensions it
was of, and if they might venture upon it or no.

They did so, and desperately resolved that they would venture
upon them; but while they were animating one another to the
work, three of them that were a little before the rest called out
aloud to them, and told them they had found Thomas Jeffery.
They all ran up to the place, and so it was indeed; for there they
found the poor fellow hung up naked by one arm, and his throat
cut. There was an Indian house just by the tree, where they
found sixteen or seventeen of the principal Indians who had been
concerned in the fray with us before, and two or three of them
wounded with our shot ; and our men found they were awake, and
talking one to another in that house, but knew not their number.

The sight of their poor mangled comrade so enraged them, as
before, that they swore to one another they would be revenged,
and that not an Indian who came into their hands should have
quarter; and to work they went immediately, and yet not so madly
as by the rage and fury they were in might be expected. Their
first care was to get something that would soon take fire, but after
a little search they found that would be to no purpose; for mort
of the houses were low, and thatched with flags or rushes, of which
the country is full; so they presently made some wild-fire, as we
call it, by wetting a little powder in the palms of their hands, and
in a quarter of an hour they set the town on fire in four or five
places, and particularly that house where the Indians were not
gone to bed. As soon as the fire began to blaze, the poor frighted
creatures began to rush out to save their lives, but met with their
fate in the attempt, and especially at the door where they drove
them back, the boatswain himself killing one or two with his pole-
axe. The house being large and many in it, he did not care to
go in, but called for a hand-grenado, and threw it among them,
which at first frightened them, but when it burst, made such havoc
among them, that they cried out in a hideous manner.
THE TOWN SET ON FIRE. 627

In short, most of the Indians who were in the open part of the
house were killed or hurt with the grenado, except two or three
more who pressed to the door, which the boatswain and two more
kept with their bayonets in the muzzles of their pieces, and de-
spatched all who came that way. But there was another apart-
ment in the house, where the prince or king, or whatever he was,
and several others were; and these they kept in till the house,
which was by this time all of a light flame, fell in upon them, and
they were smothered or burned together.

All this while they fired not a gun, because they would not
waken the people faster than they could master them; but the
fire began to waken them fast enough, and our fellows were glad
to keep a little together in bodies, for the fire grew so raging, all
the houses being made of light combustible stuif, that they could
hardly bear the street between them, and their business was to
follow the fire for the surer execution. As fast as the fire either
forced the people out of those houses which were burning, or
frightened them out of others, our people were ready at their doors
to knock them on the head, still calling and hallooing to one
another to remember ‘Thomas Jetfery.

While this was doing I must confess I was very uneasy, and
especially when I saw the flames of the town, which, it being night,
seemed to be just by me.

My nephew, the captain, who was roused by his men too, seeing
such a fire, was very uneasy, not knowing what the matter was,
or what danger I was in; especially hearing the guns too, for by
this time they began to use their firearms. A thousand thoughts
oppressed his mind concerning me and the supercargo, what should
become of us; and at last, though he could ill spare any more men,
yet not knowing what exigence we might be in, he takes another
boat, and with thirteen men and himself came on shore to me.

He was surprised to see me and the supercargo in the boat with
no more than two men; and though he was glad that we were
well, yet he was in the same impatience with us to know what was
doing, for the noise continued and the flame increased. In short,
it was next to an impossibility for any men in the world to restrain
their curiosity to know what had happened, or their concern for

(284) 34
628 A SCENE OF HORROR.

the safety of the men. Ina word, the captain told ine he would
go and help his men, let what would come. I argued with hin,
as I did before with the men, the safety of the ship, the danger of
the voyage, the interest of the owners and merchants, &e., and told
him I would go and the two men, and only see if we could at a dis-
tance learn what was like to be the event, and come back and
tell him.

Tt was all one to talk to my nephew, as it was to tall to the
rest before; he would go, he said, and he only wished he had left
but ten men in the ship, for he could not think of having his men
lost for want of help; he had rather lose the ship, the voyage, and
his life and all; and away went he.

Tn a word, I was no more able to stay behind now than T was
to persuade them not to go; so, in short, the captain ordered two
men to row back to the pinnace, and fetch twelye men more, leaving
the long-boat at an anchor, and that, when they came back, six
men should keep the two boats, and six more come after us, 80
that he left only sixteen men in the ship; for the whole ship’s
company consisted of sixty-five men, whereof two were lost in the
last quarrel, which brought this mischief on.

Being now on the march, you may be sure we felt little of the
eround we trode on; and being guided hy the fire, we kept no path,
but went directly to the place of the flame. It the noise of the guns
was surprising to us before, the cries of the poor people were now
of quite another nature, and filled us with horror. T must confess
T never was at the sacking a city, or at the taking a town by
storm. Thad heard of Oliver Cromwell taking Drogheda in Ire-
land, and killing man, woman, and child; and T had read of Count
Tilly sacking of the city of Magdeburg, and cutting the throats of
twenty-two thousand of both sexes. But I never had an idea of the
thing itself before, nor is it possible to describe it, or the horror
which was upon our minds at hearing it.

However, we went on, and at length came to the town, though
there was no entering the streets of it for the fire. The first object
we met with was the ruins of a hut or house, or rather the ashes
of it, for the house was consumed; and just before it, plain now
to be seen by the light of the fire, lay four men and three women
THE FRENZY OF MURDER. 629

killed, and, as we thought, one or two more lay in the heap among
the fire. In short, there were such instances of a rage altogether
barbarous, and of a fury something beyond what was human, that
we thought it impossible our men could be guilty of it, or if they
were the authors of it, we thought they ought to be every one of
them put to the worst of deaths. But this was not all: we saw
the fire increased forward, and the cry went on just as the fire
went on; so that we were in the utmost confusion. We advanced
a little way further, and behold, to our astonishment, three women
naked, and crying in a most dreadful manner, came flying, as if
they had indeed had wings, and after them sixteen or seventeen
men, natives, in the same terror and consternation, with three of
our English butchers, for I can call them no better, in their
rear; who, when they could not overtake them, fired in among
them, and one that was killed by their shot fell down in our sight.
When the rest saw us, believing us to be their enemies, and that
we would murder them as well as those that pursued them, they
set up a most dreadful shriek, especially the women; and two of
them fell down as if already dead with the fright.

My very soul shrank within me, and my blood ran chill in my
veins, when I saw this; and I believe, had the three English
sailors that pursued them come on, I had made our men kill them
ul. However, we took some ways to let the poor flying creatures
know that we would not hurt them, and immediately they came
up to us, and kneeling down, with their hands lifted up, made
piteous lamentation to us to save them, which we let them know
we would; whereupon they crept all together in a huddle close
behind us, as for protection. I left my men drawn up together,
and charged them to hurt nobody, but if possible to get at some
of our people, and see what devil it was possessed them, and what
they intended to do; and, in a word, to command them off, as-
suring them that if they stayed till daylight, they would have an
hundred thousand men about their ears. I say I left them and
went among those flying people, taking only two of our men with
me; and there was indeed a piteous spectacle among them. Some
of them had their feet terribly burned with trampling and running
through the fire, others their hands burned. One of the women
530 CRUSOE’S INTERFERENCE

had fallen down in the fire, and was very much burned before she
could get out again; and two or three of the men had cuts in their
backs and thighs from our men pursuing; and another was shot
through the body, and died while I was there.

I would fain have learned what the occasion of all this was; but
I could not understand one word they said, though by signs I per-
ceived that some of them knew not what was the occasion then-
selves. I was so terrified in my thoughts at this outrageous
attempt, that I could not stay there, but went back to my own
men, and resolved to go into the middle of the town through the
fire, or whatever might be in the way, and put an end to it, cost what
it would. Accordingly, as soon as I came back to my men I told
them my resolution, and commanded them to follow me; when
in the very moment came four of our men, with the boatswain at
their head, roving over the heaps of bodies they had killed, all
covered with blood and dust, as if they wanted more people to
massacre, when our men hallooed to them as loud as they could
halloo ; and with much ado one of them made them hear, so that
they knew who we were, and came up to us.

As soon as the boatswain saw us he set up a halloo like a shout
of triumph, for, as he thought, more help having come ; and with-
out bearing to hear me, “ Captain,” says he, “noble captain, Tam
glad you are come. We have not half done yet, villanous hell-
“hound dogs! TU kill as many of them as poor Tom has hairs
upon his head. We have sworn to spare none of them; we'll root
out the very nation of them from the earth.” And thus he ran on,
out of breath too with action, and would not give us leave to speak
a word.

At last, raising my voice that I might silence him a little,
“Barbarous dog,” said I, “what are you doing? I won't have
one creature touched more, upon pain of death. I charge you,
upon your life, to stop your hands, and stand still here, or you are
a dead man this minute.”

“Why, sir,” says he, ‘do you know what you do, or what they
have done? If you want a reason for what we have done, come
hither.” And with that he showed me the poor fellow hanging
with his throat cut.
RESENTED BY THE BOATSWAIN, 631

I confess I was urged then myself, and at another time would
have been forward enough; but I thought they had carried their
rage too far, and I thought of Jacob’s words to his sons Simeon
and Levi, “Cursed be their anger, for it was fierce; and their
wrath, for it was cruel.” But I had now a new task upon my
hands ; for when the men I carried with me saw the sight, as I
had done, I had as much to do to restrain them as I should have
had with the other. Nay, my nephew himself fell in with them,
and told me in their hearing that he was only concerned for fear
of the men being overpowered ; for as for the people, he thought
not one of them ought to live, for they had all glutted themselves
with the murder of the poor man, and that they ought to be used
like murderers. Upon these words, away ran eight of my men,
with the boatswain and his crew, to complete their bloody work ;
and I, seeing it quite out of my power to restrain them, came
away pensive and sad, for I could not bear the sight, much less
the horrible noise and cries of the poor wretches that fell into
their hands. :

I got nobody to come back with me but the supercargo-and two
men ; and with these I walked back to the boats. It was a very
great piece of folly in me, I confess, to venture back, as it were,
alone; for as it began now to be almost day, and the alarm had
run over the country, there stood above forty men, armed with
lances and bows, at the little place where the twelve or thirteen
houses stood mentioned before. But by accident I missed the
place, and came directly to the sea-side; and by the time I got to
the sea-side it was broad day. Immediately I took the pinnace
and went aboard, and sent her back to assist the men in what
might happen.

I observed about the time that I came to the boat-side that the
fire was pretty well out and the noise abated; but in about half
an hour after I got on board I heard a volley of our men’s fire-
arms, and saw a great smoke. This, as I understood afterwards,
was our men falling upon the men who, as I said, stood at the few
houses on the way ; of whom they killed sixteen or seventeen, and

set all those houses on fire, but did not meddle with the women or
children.
582 THE ‘ BUTCHER'S BILI.”

By the time the men got to the shore again with the pinnace
our men began to appear. They came dropping in, some and
some; not in two bodies, and in form, as they went, but all in
heaps, straggling here and there in such a manner that a small
force of resolute men might have cut them all off,

But the dread of them was upon the whole country ; and the
men were amazed and surprised, and so frightened, that T believe
a hundred of them would have fled at the sight of but five of our
men. Nor in all this terrible action was there a man who made
any considerable defence. They were so surprised between the
terror of the fire and the sudden attack of our men in the dark,
that they knew not which way to turn themselves: for if they fled
one way, they were met by one party; if back again, by another ;
so that they were everywhere knocked down. Nor did any of our
men receive the least hurt, except one, who strained his foot ; and
another had one of his hands very much burned.

T was very angry with my nephew the captain, and indeed
with all the men, in my mind; but with him in particular, as
well for his acting so out of his duty as commander of the ship,
and haying the charge of the voyage upon him, as in his prompting
rather than cooling the rage of his men in so bloody and cruel an
enterprise. My nephew answered me very respectfully; but told
me that when he saw the body of the poor seaman, whom they had
murdered in such a cruel and barbarous manner, he was not master
of himself, neither could he govern his passion. He owned he
should not have done so, as he was commander of the ship; but as
he was a man, and nature moved him, he could not bear it. As
for the rest of the men, they were not subject to me at all; and
they knew it well enough, so they took no notice of my dislike.

The next day we set sail, so we never heard any more of it.
Our men differed in the account of the number they killed: some
said one thing, some another; but according to the best of their
accounts put together, they killed or destroyed about one hundred
and fifty people, men, women, and children, and left not a house
standing in the town. As for the poor fellow, Thomas Jeffery, as
he was quite dead, for his throat was so cut that his head was
half off, it would do him no service to bring him away. So they
THE VOYAGE RESUMED, 588

left him where they found him; ouly touk him down from the tree
where he was hanged by one hand.

However just our men thought this action, I was against them
in it; and I always after that time told them God would blast the
voyage, for I looked upon all the blood they shed that night to be
murder in them. For though it is true that they had killed
Thomas Jeflery, yet it was as true that Jeffery was the aggressor,
had broken the truce, and had violated or debauched a young
woman of theirs who came down to them innocently, and on the
faith of their public capitulation.

The boatswain defended this quarrel when we were afterwards
on board. He said, it is true that we seemed to break the truce,
but really had not, and that the war was begun the night before
by the natives themselves, who had shot at us and killed one of
our men without any just provocation; so that as we were in a
capacity to fight them now, we might also be in a capacity to do
ourselves justice upon them in an extraordinary manner: that
though the poor man had taken a little liberty with a wench, he
ought not to have been murdered, and that in such a villanous
manner; and that they did nothing but what was just, and what
the laws of God allowed to be done to murderers.

One would think this should have been enough to have warned
us against going on shore among heathens and barbarians; but it
is impossible to make mankind wise but at their own experience,
and their experience seems to be always of most use to them when
it is dearest bought.

We were now bound to the Gulf of Persia, and from thence to
the coast of Coromandel, only to touch at Surat; but the chief of
the supercargo’s design lay at the Bay of Bengal, where if he
missed of his business outward bound, he was to go up to China,
and return to the coast as he came home.

The first disaster that befell us was in the Gulf of Persia, where
five of our men, venturing on shore on the Arabian side of the
gulf, were surrounded by the Arabians, and either all killed or
carried away into slavery. The rest of the boat’s crew were not
able to rescue them, and had but just time to get off their boat.
1 began to upbraid them with the just retribution of Heaven in
634 THE BOATSWAIN COMPLAINS

this case; but the boatswain very warmly told me he thought |
went further in my censures than I could show any warrant for in
Scripture, and referred to the thirteenth of St. Luke, verse fourth,
where our Saviour intimates that those men on whom the tower
of Siloam fell were not sinners above all the Galileans. But that
which indeed put me to silence in the case was, that not one of
these five men who were now lost were of the number of those who
went on shore to the massacre of Madagascar (so I always called
it, though our men could not bear the word ‘“ massacre”’ with any
patience). And, indeed, this last circumstance, as 1 have said, put
me to silence for the present.

But my frequent preaching to them on this subject had worse
consequences than I expected ; and the boatswain, who had been
the head of the attempt, came up boldly to me one time, and told
me he found that [ continually brought that affair upon the stage ;
that I made unjust reflections upon it, and had used the men very
ill on that account, and himself in particular; that as Twas but a
passenger, and had no command in the ship or concern in the
voyage, they were not obliged to bear it; that they did not know
but I might have some ill design in my head, and perhaps to call
them to account for it when they came to Hngland ; and that
therefore, unless I would resolve to have done with it, and also not
to concern myself any further with him or any of his affairs, he

would leave the ship, for he did not think it was safe to sail with
me among them.

I heard him patiently enough until he had done, and then told
him that I did confess I had all along opposed the massacre of
Madagascar, for such I would always call it: and that I had on
all occasions spoken my mind freely about it, though not more
upon him than any of the rest: that as to my having no command
in the ship, that was true, nor did I exercise any authority, only
took my liberty of speaking my mind in things which publicly
concerned us all; and what concern I had in the voyage was none
of his business: that | was a considerable owner of the ship, and
in that claim I conceived I had a right to speak even further than
I had yet done, and would not be accountable to him or any one
else, and began to be a little warm with him. He made but
OF CRUSOE’S REPROACHES. 686

littie reply to me at that time, and I thought that affair had
been over. We were at this time in the road at Bengal; and
being willing to see the place, I went on shore with the super-
cargo in the ship’s boat to divert myself, and towards evening was
preparing to go on board, when one of the men came to me, and
told me he would not have me trouble myself to come down to the
boat, for they had orders not to carry me on board any more!
Any one may guess what a surprise I was in at so insolent a mes-
sage; and I asked the man who bade him deliver that errand to
me. He told me, the cockswain. I said no more to the fellow,
but bade him let them know he had delivered his message, and
that I had given him no answer to it.

I immediately went and found out the supercargo, and told him
the story; adding what I presently foresaw, namely, that there
would certainly be a mutiny in the ship, and entreated him to go
immediately on board the ship in an Indian boat, and acquaint the
captain of it. But I might have spared this intelligence, for
before I had spoken to him on shore the matter was effected on
board. The boatswain, the gunner, the carpenter, and, in a word,
all the inferior officers, as soon as I was gone off in the boat, came
up to the quarter-deck and desired to speak with the captain; and
there the boatswain, making a long harangue, for the fellow
talked very well, and repeating all he had said to me, told the
captain, in few words, that as I was now gone peaceably on shore,
they were loath to use any violence with me; which, if I had not
gone on shore, they would otherwise have done, to oblige me to
have gone: they therefore thought fit to tell him, that as they
shipped themselves to serve in the ship under his command, they
would perform it well and faithfully ; but if I would not quit the
ship, or the captain oblige me to quit it, they would all leave the
ship, and sail no further with him. And at that word “all,” he
turned his face about towards the mainmast, which was, it seems,
the signal agreed on between them; at which, all the seamen
being got together, they cried out, “ One and all! one and all!”

My nephew the captain was a man of spirit, and of great
presence of mind; and though he was surprised, you may be sure,
at the thing, yet he told them calmly that he would consider of
686 SIGNS OF MUTINY,

the thing, but that he could do nothing in it until he had spoken
to me about it. Te used some arguments with them to show
them the unreasonableness and injustice of the thing: but it was
all in vain; they swore and shook hands round before his face
that they would go all on shore, unless he would engage to them
not to suffer me to come any more on board the ship.

This was a hard article upon him, who knew his obligation to
me, and did not know how [Tinight take it. So he began to talk
eavalierly to them; told them that T was a very considerable
owner of the ship, and that in justice he could not put me out. of
my own house; that this was next door to serving me as the
famous pirate Kid had done, who made the mutiny in a ship, set
the captain on shore on an uninhabited islind, and ran away with
the ship; that let them go into what ship they would, if ever they
came to Bngland again, it would cost. them dear; that the ship
was mine, and that he could not put me out of it; and that he
would rather lose the ship, and the voyage too, than disoblige
meso much; so they might do as they pleased : however, he would
go on shore, and talk with me on shore; and invited the boatswain
to go with him, and perhaps they might accommodate the matter
with me.

But they all rejected the proposal, and said they would have
nothing to do with me any more, neither on board nor on shore,
and if T came on board they would all goon shore. ‘ Well,” said
the captain, “if you are all of this mind, let me go on shore, and
talk with him.” So away he came to me with this account, a
little after the message had been brought to me from the cock-
swain,

T was very glad to see my nephew, [ must confess; for T was
not without apprehensions that they would confine him by violence,
set sail, and run away with the ship, and then [ had been stripped
naked in a remote country, and nothing to help myself; in short,
T had been in a worse case than when I was all alone in the
island,

But they had not come that length, it seems, to my great satis-
faction ; and when my nephew told me what they had said to him,
and how they had sworn, and shook hands, that they would one
CRUSOE LEFT ON SHORE, 687

and all leave the ship if I was suffered to come on board, I told
him he should not be concerned at it at all, for I would stay on
shore. TI only desired he would take care and send me all my
necessary things on shore, and leave me a sufficient sum of money,
and T would find my way to England as well as I could.

This was a heavy piece of news to my nephew; but there was
no way to help it, but to comply with it; so, in short, he went on
board the ship again, and satisfied the men that his uncle had
yielded to their importunity, and had sent for his goody from on
board the ship; so that rmatter was over in a very few hours, the
men returned to their duty, and I began to consider what course I
should steer.

I was now alone in the remotest part of the world, as I think I
may callit ; for I was nearly three thousand leagues by sea further
off from Hngland than I was at my island. Only, it is true, I might
travel here by land over the Great Mogul’s country to Surat;
might go from thence to Bassora by sea, up the Gulf of Persia; and
from thence might take the way of the caravans over the desert of
Arabia to Aleppo and Scanderoon; from thence by sea again ta
Italy, and so over land into France: and this put together might
be at least a full diameter of the globe, but if it were to be
measured, I suppose it would appear to be a great deal more.

I had another way before me, which was to wait for some
English ships, which were coming to Bengal from Achen, on the
island of Sumatra, and get passage on board them for England ;
but as I came hither without any concern with the English
Hast India Company, so it would be difficult to go from hence without
their licence, unless with great favour of the captains of the ships,
or of the Company’s factors, and to both I was an utter stranger.

Here I had the particular pleasure, speaking by contraries, to
see the ship sail without me; a treatment, I think, a man in my
circumstances scarce ever met with, except from pirates running
away with a ship, and setting those that would not agree with
their villany on shore. Indeed this was next door to it both ways.
However, my nephew left me two servants, or rather, one com-
panion and one servant; the first was clerk to the purser, whom
he engaged to zo with me, and the other was his own servant. [|
65 A NEW PROPOSAL.

took me also a good lodging in the house of an Knglishwoman,
where several merchants lodged, some French, two Italians, or
rather Jews, and one Englishman. Here I was handsomely enough
entertained; and that I might not be said to run rashly upon any-
thing, | stayed here above nine months, considering what course to
take, and how to manage myself. I had some English goods with
me of value, ans a considerable sum of money, my nephew furnish-
ing me with a thousand pieces of eight, and a letter of credit for
more, if I had occasion, that T might not be straitened, whatever
might happen.

I quickly disposed of my goods, and to advantage too; and, as
I originally intended, T bought here some very good diamonds ;
which, of all other things, was the most proper for me in my
present. circumstances, because T might always carry my whole
estate about me.

After a long stay here, and many proposals made for my return
to England, but none falling out to my mind, the English
merchant who lodged with me, and with whom I had contracted
an intimate acquaintance, came to me one morning. ‘‘ Country-
man,” says he, “I have a project to communicate to you, which,
as it suits with my thoughts, may, for aught I know, suit with
yours also, when you shall haye thoroughly considered it.

“Here we are posted,” says he, “you by accident, and 1 by my
own choice, in a part of the world very remote from our own
country ; but it is in a country where, by us who understand trade
and business, a great deal of money is to be got. If you will put
a thousand pounds to my thousand pounds, we will hire a ship here,
the first we can get to our minds; you shall be captain, PI be
merchant, and we will go a trading voyage to China; for what
should we stand still for? The whole world is in motion, rolling
round and round; all the creatures of God, heavenly bodies and
earthly, are busy and diligent; why should we be idle? There
are no drones in the world but men; why should we be of that
number ?”

I liked his proposal very well, and the more because it seemed
to be expressed with so much goodwill and in so friendly a manner.
I will not say but that I might by my loose and unhinged cir-
WANDERING TO AND FRO, 5388

cumstances be the fitter to embrace a proposal for trade, or, indced,
for anything else; whereas, otherwise, trade was none of my
element. However, I might perhaps say with some truth, that if
trade was not my element, rambling was, and no proposal for
seeing any part of the world which I never had seen before could
possibly come amiss to me. :

It was, however, some time before we could get a ship to our
minds; and when we had got a vessel, it was not easy to get
English sailors; that is to say, so many as were necessary to
govern the voyage and manage the sailors which we should pick up
there. After some time we got a mate, a boatswain, and a gunner,
Knglish, a Dutch carpenter, and three Portuguese foremastmen.
With these we found we could do well enough, having Indian sea-
men, such as they are, to make up.

There are many travellers who have written the history of their
voyages and travels this way, that it would be very little diversion
to anybody to give a long account of the places we went to, and
the people who inhabit there. Those things I leave to others, and
refer the reader to those journals and travels of Englishmen, of
which many I find are published, and more promised every day.
‘Tis enough to me to tell you that I made this voyage to Achen,
in the island of Sumatra, and from thence to Siam, where we ex-
changed some of our wares for opium, and some arrack; the first
a commodity which bears a great price among the Chinese, and
which at that time was very much wanted there. In a word, we
went up to Suskan, made a very great voyage, were cight months
out, and returned to Bengal; and I was very well satisfied with my
adventure. I observe that our people in England often admire
how the officers which the Company send into India, and the
merchants which generally stay there, get such very great estates
as they do, and sometimes come home worth sixty, seventy, to
one hundred thousand pounds at a time.

But it is no wonder, or at least we shall see so much further
into it, when we consider the innumerable ports and places where
they have a free commerce, that it will then be no wonder; and
much less will it be so, when we consider at all those places and
ports where the English ships come, there is so much, and such
640 CRUSOE MORALIZES.

constant demand for the growth of all other countries, that there
is a certain vent for the returns, as well as a market abroad, for
the goods carried out.

In short, we made a very good voyage, and I got so much
money by the first adventure, and such an insight into the method
of getting more, that had I been twenty years younger, I should
have been tempted to have stayed here, and sought no further for
making my fortune. But what was all this to a man on the wrong
side of threescore, that was rich enough, and came abroad more in
obedience to a restless desire of seeing the world, than a covetous
desire of getting in it; and indeed I think it is with great justice
that I now call it a restless desire, for it was so. When I was at
home, T was restless to go abroad; and now I was abroad, T was
restless to be at home. Tsay, what gain was this tome? I was
rich enough, nor had I any uneasy desires about getting more
money, and therefore the profits of the voyage to me were thing
of no great force for the prompting me forward to further under
takings; and I thought that by this voyage I had made no pro-
gress at all, because I was come back, as I might call it, to the
place from whence I came, as to a home; whereas my eye, which,
like that which Solomon speaks of, was never satisfied with seeing,

8

was still more desirous of wandering and seeing. I was come into
a part of the world which I was never in before, and that part in
particular which T had heard much of, and was resolved to see as
much of as I could, and then I thought I might say I had seen all
the world that was worth seeing.

But my fellow-traveller and I had different notions. I do not
name this to insist upon my own; for I acknowledge his were the
most just, and the most suited to the end of a merchant’s life, who,
when he is abroad upon adventures, it is his wisdom to stick to
that as the best thing for him which he is like to get the most
money by. My new friend kept himself to the nature of the thing,
and would have been content to have gone like a carrier’s horse
always to the same inn, backward and forward, provided he could,
as he called it, find his account init. On the other hand, mine
was the notion of a mad rambling boy, that never cares to sce a
thing twice over.
FORTUNATE SPECULATIONS. 641

But this was not all: I had a kind of impatience upon me to
be nearer home, and yet the most unsettled resolution imaginable
which way to go. In the interval of these consultations my friend,
who was always upon the search for business, proposed another
voyage to me among the Spice Islands, and to bring home a load-
ing of cloves from the Manillas, or thereabouts; places where
indeed the Dutch do trade, but islands belonging partly to the
Spaniards; though we went not so far, but to some other, where
they have not the whole power, as they have at Batavia, Ceylon,
&e. We were not long in preparing for this voyage; the chief
difficulty was in bringing me to come into it. However, nothing
else offering, and finding that really stirring about and trading,
the profit being so great, and, as I may say, certain, had more
pleasure in it, and more satisfaction to the mind than sitting still,
which, to me especially, was the unhappiest part of life; I resolved
on this voyage too, which we made very successfully, touching at
Borneo and several islands, whose names I do not remember, and
came home in about five months. We sold our spice, which was
chiefly cloves, and some nutmegs, to the Persian merchants, who
carried them away for the Gulf; and making near five of one, we
really got a great deal of money.

My friend, when we made up this account, smiled at me.
“Well now,” said he, with a sort of agreeable insult upon my
indolent temper, ‘is not this better than walking about here, like
a man of nothing to do, and spending our time staring at the
nonsense and ignorance of the pagans?” ‘Why, truly,” says I,
“my friend, I think it is, and I begin to be a convert to the
principles of merchandizing ; but I must tell you,” said I, “ by the
way, you do not know what I am a doing; for if once I conquer
my backwardness, and embark heartily, as old as I am, I shall
harass you up and down the world till I tire you; for I shall
pursue it so eagerly, I shall never let you lie still.”

But to be short with my speculations, a little while after this
there came in a Dutch ship from Batavia; she was a coaster, not
an Huropean trader, and of about two hundred tons burden ; the
men, as they pretended, having been so sickly that the captain
had not men enough to go to sea with. He lay by at Bengal, and
542 PURCHASING A SHIP,

having, it seems, got money enough, or being willing, for othe
reasons, to go for Hurope, he gave public notice that he would sell
his ship. This came to my ears before my new partner heard of
it, and I had a great mind to buy it; so I goes home to him, and
told him of it. He considered a while; for he was no rash man
neither; but musing some time, he replied, ‘She is a little too
big; but, however, we will have her.” Accordingly we bought
the ship, and agreeing with the master, we paid for her and took
possession. When we had done so, we resolved to entertain the
men, if we could, to join them with those we had, for the pursuing
our business; but on a sudden, they having received not their
wages, but their share of the money, not one of them was to be
found. We inquired much about thei, and at length were told
that they were all gone together by land to Agra, the great city of
the Mogul’s residence, and from thence were to travel to Surat,
and so by sea to the Gulf of Persia.

Nothing had so heartily troubled me a good while, as that J
missed the opportunity of going with them; for such a ramble, ]
thought, and in such company as would both have guarded me and
diverted me, would have suited mightily with my great design;
and I should both have seen the world and gone homewards too.
But I was much better satisfied a few days after, when I came to
know what sort of fellows they were; for, in short, their history
was, that this man they called captain was the gunner only, not
the commander; that they had been a trading voyage, in which
they were attacked on shore by some of the Malayans, who had
killed the captain and three of his men; and that after the captain
was killed, these men, eleven in number, had resolved to run away
with the ship, which they did, and brought her in at the Bay of
Bengal, leaving the mate and five men more on shore, of whom
we shall hear further.

Well, let them come by the ship how they would, we came
honestly by her, as we thought; though we did not, I confess,
examine into things so exactly as we ought, for we never inquired
anything of the seamen; who, if we had examined, would certainly
have faltered in their account, contradicted one another, and per-
haps contradicted themselves; or, somehow or other we should have
A VOYAGE TO CHINA. 643

seen reason to have suspected them. But the man showed us a
bill of sale for the ship, to one Emanuel Clostershoven, or some
such name (for I suppose it was all a jorgery), and called himself
by that name, and we could not contradict him; and being withal
a little too unwary, or, at least, having no suspicion of the thing,
we went through with our bargain.

We picked up some more English seamen here after this, and
some Dutch ; and now we resolved for a second voyage to the south-
east, tor cloves, &c.; that is to say, among the Philippine and
Molucea Isles. And, in short, not to fill this part of my story with
trifles, when what is yet to come is so remarkable, I spent from
first to last six years in this country, trading from port to port,
backward and forward, and with very good success, and was now
the last year with my new partner, going in the ship above-
mentioned on a voyage to China, but designing first to Siam to
buy rice.

In this voyage, being by contrary winds obliged to beat up and
down a great while in the Straits of Malacca and among the
islands, we were no sooner got clear of those difficult seas but we
found our ship had sprung a leak, and we were not able by all our
industry to find it out where it was. This forced us to make for
some port, and my partner, who knew the country better than 1
did, directed the captain to put into the river of Cambodia; for 1
had made the English mate, one Mr. Thompson, captain, not being
willing to take the charge of two ships upon myself. This river
lies on the north side of the great bay or gulf which goes up to
Siam.

While we were here, and going often on shore for refreshment,
there comes to me one day an Englishman, and he was, it seems, a
gunner’s mate on board an English Hast India ship which rode
in the same river, up at, or near the city of Cambodia. What
brought him hither we know not, but he comes up to me, and
speaking in English, “ Sir,” says he, “you are a stranger to me,
and I to you, bug I have something to tell you that very bee
concerns you.”

I looked steadily at him a good while, and thought at first I had

known him, but I did not, “If it very nearly concerns me,’ said
vuod) 35
544 MISTAKEN FOR A PIRATE,

T, “and not yourself, what moves you to tell it me Daan sles
moved,” says he, “by the imminent danger you are in, and, for
aught I see, you have no knowledge of it.” I know no danger I
am in,” said T, but that my ship is leaky, and T cannot find it ont;
but [ purpose to lay her a-ground to morrow to see if Tecan find
it.’ “But, sir,” says he,“ leaky or not leaky, find it or not find it,
you will be wiser than to lay your ship on shore to-morrow, when
you hear what I have to say to you. Do you know, sir,” said he,
“the town of Cambodia lies about fifteen leagues up this river,
and there are two large Hnglish ships about five leagues on this
side, and three Dutch?” ‘ Well,” said T, “and what is that to
me?” ‘Why, sir,” said he, “is it fora man that is upon such
adventures as you are upon, to come into a port and not examine
first what ships there are there, and whether he is able to deal
with them? T suppose you do not think you are a match for them?”
T was amused very much at his discourse, but not amazed at
it, for I could not conceive what he meant. T turned short upon
him, and said, “ Sir, I wish you would explain yourself. I can-
not imagine what reason I have to be afraid of any company of
English ships or Dutch ships. Tam no interloper; what can they
have to say to me?”

He looked like a man half angry, half pleased, and pausing a
while, but smiling, “ Well, sir,” said he, “if you think yourself
secure, you must take your chance. IT am sorrow your fate should
blind you against good advice. But assure yourself, if you do not
put to sea immediately, you will the very next tide be attacked by
five longboats full of men; and perhaps, if you are taken, you'll be
hanged for a pirate, and the particulars be examined afterwards.
T thought, sir,” added he, ‘I should have met with a better re-
ception than this for doing you a piece of service of such import-
ance.” “TI can never be ungratelul,’” said I, “ for any service,
or to any man that offers me any kindness; but it is past my
comprehension,” said I, ‘what they should have such a design
upon me for. However, since you say there is no time to be lost,
and that there is some villanous design in hand against me, I'll
go on board this minute and put to sea immediately, if my men
can stop the leak, or if we can swim without stopping it. But,
SPEAKING PLAIN ENGLISH. 545

sir,” said I, “shall I go away ignorant of the reason of all this ?
Can you give me no further light into it?”

“T can tell you but part of the story, sir,” says he, “ but I have
a Dutch seaman here with me, and I believe I could persuade him
to tell you the rest; but there is scarce time for it. But the short
of the story is this, the first part of which, I suppose, you know
well enough; namely, that you was with this ship at Sumatra,
that there your captain was murdered by the Malayans with three
of his men, and that you, or some of those who were on board with
you, ran away with the ship, and are since turned pirates. This
is the sum of the story; and you will be all seized as pirates, I can
assure you, and executed with very little ceremony ; for you know,
merchant ships show but little law to pirates if they get them into
their power.”

“Now you speak plain English,” said I, “and I thank you;
and though I know nothing that we have done like what you talk
of, but am sure we came honestly and fairly by the ship, yet, see-
ing such work is a-doing as you say, and that you seem to mean
honestly, Pll be upon my guard.” ‘Nay, sir,” says he, “do not
talk of being upon your guard; the best defence is to be out of
the danger. If you have any regard to your life, and the lives of
all your men, put out to sea without fail at high-water; and as
you have a whole tide before you, you will be gone too far out be-
fore they can come down; for they come away at high-water, and
as they have twenty miles to come, you get near two hours of
them by the difference of the tide, not reckoning the length of the
way. Besides, as they are only boats, and not ships, they will not
venture to follow you far out to sea, especially if it blows.”

““ Well,” says I, ‘‘ you have been very kind in this; what shall I
do for you to make you amends?” “Sir,” says he, “ you may
not be so willing to make me any amends, because you may not be
convinced of the truth of it. Dll make an offer to you. I have
nineteen months’ pay due to me on board the ship , which I
came out of England in, and the Dutchman that is with me has
seven months’ pay due to him; if you will make good our pay to us,
we will go along with you. and if you find no more in it, we will
desire no more; but if we do convince you that we have saved your

 
646 A STERN CHASE,

life, and the ship, and the lives of all the men in her, we will
leave the rest to you.”

1 consented to this readily, and went immediately on board, and
the two men with me. As soon as I came to the ship’s side, my
partner, who was on board, came out on the quarter-deck, and
called to mo with a great deal of joy, © O ho! O ho! we have
stopped the leak! we have stopped the leak 1" “Say you so,”
said 1; “thank God! but weigh the anchor immediately.”
“Weigh!” says he, ‘what do you mean by that? What is the
matter?” says he. ‘Ask no questions,” says [, ‘but all hands
to work, and weigh without losing a minute.” Heo was surprised ;
but, however, he called the captain, and he immediately ordered
the anchor to be got up. And though the tide was not quite done,
yet a little land breeze blowing, we stood out to sea, Then T
called him into the eabin and told him the story at large, and we
called in the men and they told us the rest of it. But as it took
us up a great deal of time, so before we had done, a seaman comes
to the cabin door, and calls out to us that the captain bade him tell
us we were chased.“ Chased,” said 1, “ by whom, and by what?”
“ By five sloops or boats,” says the fellow, “full of men.” “ Very
well,” said 1, “then it is apparent there is something in it.” In
the next place T ordered all our men to be called up, and told them
that there was a design to seize the ship, and take us for pirates ;
and asked them if they would stand by us and by one another ?
The men answered cheerfully, that one and all they would live and
die with us. Then 1 asked the captain what way he thought best
for us to manage the fight with them, for resist, them T was re-
solved we would, and that to the last drop. He said readily that
the way was to keep them off with our great shot as long as we
could, and then to fire at them with our small arms as long as we
could; but when neither of these would do any longer, we shoula
retire to our close quarters; perhaps they had not material to
break open our bulkheads, or get in upon us,

The gunner had, in the meantime, order to bring two guns to
bear fore and aft out of the steerage, to clear the deek, and load
them with musket-bullets, and small pieces of old iron, and what
next cama to hand, and thus we made ready for fight , but all this
ATTACKED BY BOATS. 647

while we kept out to sea with wind enough, and could see the
boats at a distance, being five large longboats, following us with
all the sail they could make.

‘I'wo of these boats, which by our glasses we could see were
Mnglish, out-sailed the rest, and were near two leagues ahead of
them, and gained upon us considerably, so that we found they
would come up with us. Upon which we tired a gun without
ball, to intimate that they should bring-to, and we put out a flag
of truce as a signal for parley. But they kept crowding after us
till they came within shot, when we took in our white flag, they
having made no answer to it, hung out a red flag, and fired at them
with a shot. Notwithstanding this, they came on till they were
near enough to call to them with a speaking-trumpet which we
had on board; so we called to them, and bade them keep off at
their peril.

Tt was all one; they crowded after us, and endeavoured to come
under our stern, so to board us on our quarter; upon which,
seeing they were resolute for mischief, and depended upon the
strength that followed them, I ordered to bring the ship to, so that
they lay upon our broadside, when immediately we fired five guns
at them; one of which had been levelled so true as to carry away
the stern of the hindermost boat, and bring them to the necessity
of taking down their sail, and running all to the head of the boat
to keep her from sinking; so she lay by, and had enough of it;
but seeing the foremost boat crowd on after us, we made ready to
fire at her in particular.

While this was doing, one of the three boats that was behind,
being forwarder than the other two, made up to the boat which
we had disabled, to relieve her, and we could afterwards see her
take out the men. We called again to the foremost boat, and
offered a truce to parley again, and to know what was her business
with us; but had no answer, only she crowded close under our
stern. Upon this our gunner, who was a very dexterous fellow,
ran out his two chase-guns, and fired again at her; but the shot
missing, the men in the boat shouted, waved their caps, and came
on. But the gunner, getting quickly ready again, fired among
them the second time; one shot of which, though it missed the
648 THE ATTACK REPULSED.

 

“IMMEDIATELY WE FIRED FIVE GUNS Ar THEM,”

boat itself, yet fell in among the men, and, we could easily see,
had done a great deal of mischief among them; but we, taking no
notice of that, wared the ship again, and brought our quarter to
bear upon them, and firing three guns more, we found the boat
was split almost to pieces; in particular, her rudder and a piece of
her stern were shot quite away ; so they handed their sail immedi-
ately, and were in great disorder. But, to complete their misfor-
tune, our gunner let fly two guns at them again. Where he hit
CRUSOE’S UNLUCKY PURCHASE, 649

them we could not tell, but we found the boat was sinking, and
some of the men already in the water. Upon this I immediately
manned out our pinnace, which we had kept close by our side, with
orders to pick up some of the men if they could, and save them
from drowning, and immediately to come on board with them, be-
cause we saw the rest of the boats began to come up. Our men
in the pinnace followed their orders, and took up three men, one
of which was just drowning, and it was a good while before we
could recover him. As soon as they were on board we crowded
all the sail we could make and stood further out to sea, and we
found that when the other three boats came up to the first two
thev gave over their chase.

Being thus delivered from a danger which, though I knew not
the reason of it, yet seemed to be much greater than I apprehended,
I took care that we should change our course, and not let any one
imagine whither we were going; so we stood out to sea eastward,
quite out of the course of all Huropean ships, whether they were
bound to China or anywhere else within the commerce of the
European nations.

When we were now at sea we began to consult with the two
seamen, and inquire, first, what the meaning of all this should be;
and the Dutchman let us into the secret of it at once, telling us
that the fellow that sold us the ship, as we said, was no more
than a thief, that had run away with her. Then he told us how
the captain, whose name too he told us, though T do uot remember,
was treacherously murdered by the natives on the coast of Malacea,
with three of his men; and that he, this Dutchman, and four
more, got into the woods, where they wandered about a great
while; till at length he, in particular, in a miraculous manner
made his escape, and swam off to a Dutch ship, which, sailing near
the shore, in its way from China, had sent their boat on shore for
fresh water; that he durst not come to that part of the shore
where the boat was, but made shift in the night, to take the water
further off, and the ship's boat took him up.

He then told us that he went to Batavia, where two of the sea-
men belonging to the ship arrived, having deserted the rest in their
travels, and gave an account that the fellow who had run away
650 MAKING FOR THE COAST OF TONQUIN,

with the ship sold her at Bengal to a set of pirates, which were
gone a-cruising in her, and that they had already taken an English
ship and two Dutch ships very richly laden.

This latter part we found to concern us directly, and though we
knew it to be false, yet, as my partner said very well, if we had
fallen into their hands, and they had had such a prepossession
against us beforehand, it had been in vain for us to have defended
ourselves, or to hope for any good quarter at their hands; and
especially considering that our accusers had been our judges, and
that we could have expected nothing from them but what rage
would have dictated and an ungoverned passion have executed.
And, therefore, it was his opinion we should go directly back to
Berval, from whence we came, without putting in at any port
whatever; because there we could give a good account of ourselves,
could prove where we were when the ship put in, whom we bought
her of, and the like; and, which was more than all the rest, if we
were put to the necessity of bringing it before the proper judges,
we should be sure to have some justice, and not be hanged first
and judged afterwards.

T was some time of my partner’s opinion, but, after a little more
serious thinking, I told him I thought it was a very great hazard
for us to attempt returning to Bengal, for that we were on the
wrong side of the Straits of Malacca; and that, if the alarm was
wiven, we should be sure to be waylaid on every side, as well by
the Dutch of Batavia as the English elsewhere: that if we should
be taken, as it were running away, we should even condemn our-
selves, and there would want no more evidence to destroy us. I
also asked the English sailor’s opinion, who said he was of my
mind, and that we should certainly be taken.

This danger a little startled my partner and all the ship’s com-
pany, and we immediately resolved to go away to the coast of
Tonquin, and so on to the coast of China, and pursuing the first
design as to trade, find some way or other to dispose of the ship,
and come back in some of the vessels of the country, such as we
could get. This was approved of as the best method for our
security ; and accordingly we steered away north-north-east, keep:
ing above filty leagues off from the usual course to the eastward.
JUDGED BY APPEARANCES. 551

This, however, put us to some inconveniences; for first the
winds, when we came to the distance from the shore, seemed to be
more steadily against us, blowing almost trade, as we cali it, from
the cast and east-north-east, so that we were a long while upon
our voyage, and we were but ill provided with victuals for so long
a voyage; and, which was still worse, there was some danger that
those English and Dutch ships, whose boats pursued us, whereof
some were bound that way, might be got in before us; and if not,
some other ship bound to China might have information of us from
them, and pursue us with the same vigour.

I must confess I was now very uneasy, and thought myself, in-
cluding the late escape from the longboats, to have been in the
most dangerous condition that ever I was in through all my past
life; for whatever ill circumstances I had been in, I was never pur-
sued for a thief before, nor had I ever done anything that merited
the name of dishonest or fraudulent, much less thievish. I had
chiefly been my own enemy; or, as I may rightly say, I had been
nobody’s enemy but my own. But now I was embarrassed in the
worst condition imaginable; for though I was perfectly innocent,
I was in no condition to make that innocence appear. And if I
had been taken, it had been under a supposed guilt of the worst
kind; at least, a crime esteemed so among the people I had to do
with.

This made me very anxious to make an escape, though which
way to do it I knew not, or what port or place we should go to.
My partner seeing me thus dejected, though he was the most con-
cerned at first, began to encourage me; and describing to me the
several ports of that coast, told me he would put in on the coast of
Cochin China or the Bay of Tonquin, intending to go afterwards
to Macao, a town once in the possession of the Portuguese, and
where still a great many European families resided, and particularly
the missionary priests usually went thither, in order to their going
forward to China.

Hither, then, we resolved to go; and accordingly, though after a
tedious and irregular course, and very much straitened for pro-
visions, we came within sight of the coast very early in the morn-
ing. And upon reflection upon the past circumstances we were in
652 IN THE BAY OF TONQUIN,

and the danger if we had not escaped, we resolved to put into a
small river, which, however, had a depth enough of water for us,
and to see if we could, either over land or by the ship’s pinnace,
come to know what ships were in any port thereabouts. This
happy step was indeed our deliverance ; for though we did not im-
mediately see any European ships in the Bay of Tonquin, yet the
next morning there came into the bay two Dutch ships, and a third
without any colours spread out, but which we believed to be a Dutch-
man, passed by at about two leagues’ distance, steering for the coast
of China; and in the afternoon went by two English ships steering
the same course; and thus we thought we saw ourselves beset with
enemies both one way or other. The place we were in was wild
and barbarous, the people thieves, even by occupation or profession ;
and though it is true we had not much to seek of them, and, except
getting a few provisions, cared not how little we had to do with
them, yet it was with much difficulty that we kept ourselves from
being insulted by them several ways.

We were in a small river of this country, within a few leagues
of its utmost limits northward, and by our boat we coasted north-
east to the point of land which opens the great Bay of Tonquin ;
and it was in this beating up along the shore that we discovered,
as above, that, in a word, we were surrounded with enemies. The
people we were among were the most barbarous of all the inhabi-
tants of the coast; having no correspondence with any other
nation, and dealing only in fish, and oil, and such gross eommo-
dities. And it may be particularly seen that they are, as T said, the
most barbarous of any of the inhabitants, namely, that, among
other customs, they have this as one, namely, that if any vessel
have the misfortune to be shipwrecked upon the coast, they pre-
sently make the men all prisoners or slaves; and it was not long
before we found a spice of their kindness this way, on the occasion
following.

Thave observed above that our ship sprung a leak at sea, and
that we could not find it out: and, however it happened, that, as I
have said, it was stopped unexpectedly in the happy minute of our
being to be seized by the Dutch and English ships in the Bay of
Siam; yet as we did uot find the ship so perfectly fit and sound as
AT WORK ON THE SHIP. 663

we desired, we resolved, while we were in this place, to lay her on
shore, take out what heavy things we had on board, which were
not many, and to wash and clean her bottom, and, if possible, to
find out where the leaks were.

Accordingly, having lightened the ship, and brought all our
guns and other movable things to one side, we tried to bring her
down, that we might come at her bottom ; but, on second thoughts,
we did not care to lay her dry on ground, neither could we find
out a proper place for it.

The inhabitants, who had never been acquainted with such a
sight, came wondering down to the shore to look at us; and seeing
the ship lie down on her side in such a manner, and heeling in
towards the shore, and not seeing our men, who were at work on
her bottom with stages, and with their boats on the off-side, they
presently concluded that the ship was cast away, and so lay fast
on the ground.

On this supposition they came all about us in two or three hours’
time, with ten or twelve large boats, having some of them eight,
some ten men in a boat, intending, no doubt, to have come on
board and plundered the ship, and if they had found us there, to
have carried us away for slaves to their king, or whatever they
call him, for we knew nothing who was their governor.

When they came up to the ship, and began to row round her,
they discovered us all hard at work on the outside of the ship’s
bottom and side; washing, and graving, and stopping, as every
sea-faring man knows how.

They stood for a while gazing at us, and we, who were a little
surprised, could not imagine what their design was; but, being
willing to be sure, we took this opportunity to get some of us into
the ship, and others to hand down arms and ammunition to those
that were at work, to defend themselves with if there should be
occasion. And it was no more than need; for in less than a
quarter of an hour’s consultation, they agreed, it seemed, that the
ship was really a wreck, that we were all at work endeavouring to
save her, or to save our lives by the help of our boats; and when
we handed our arms into the boats, they concluded, by that
motion. that we were endeavouring to save some of our goods.
564 A FRACAS WITH THI NATIVES.

Upon this they took it for granted we all belonged to them, and
away they came down upon our men, as if it had been in a line of
battle.

Our men seeing so many of them, began to be frightened, for we
lay but in an ill posture to fight, and cried out to us to know what
they should do. I immediately called to the men who worked
upon the stage to slip them down and get up the side into the
ship, and bade those in the boat to row round and come on board;
and those few of us who were on board worked with all the
strength and hands we had to bring the ship to rights. But, how-
ever, neither the men upon the stage nor those in the boats could
do as they were ordered, before the Cochinchinese were upon
them; and two of their boats boarded our longboat, and began to
lay hold of the men as their prisoners.

The first man they laid hold of was an English seaman ; a stout,
strong fellow, who, having a musket in his hand, never offered to
fire it, but laid it down in the boat, like a fool as T thought. But
he understood his business better than [ could teacn him; for he
grappled the pagan, and dragged him by main force out of their
own boat into ours, where, taking him by the two ears, he beat
his head so against the boat’s gunwale, that the fellow died in-
stantly in his hands. And in the meantime, a Dutchman who
stood next took up the musket, and with the buty end of it
so laid about him, that he knowked down five of them who
attempted to enter the boat. But this was doiags little towards
resisting thirty or forty men, who, fearless, because ignorant of
their danger, began to throw themselves into the longboat, where
we had but five men in all to defend it. But one accident gave
our men a complete victory, which deserved our laughter rather
than anything else. And that was this.

Our carpenter being preparing to grave the outside of the ship,
as well as to pay the seams where he had calked her to stop the
leaks, had got two kettles just let down into the boat, one filled
with boiling pitch, and the other with rosin, tallow, and oil, and
such stuff as the shipwrights use for that work; and the man that
attended the carpenter had a great iron ladle in his hand, with
waich he supplied the men who were at work with that hot stuff.
PAYING THEM WITH PITCH. 655

Two of the enemy's men entered the boat just where this fellow
stood, being in the fore-sheets ; he immediately saluted them with
a ladle-full of the stuff, boiling hot, which so burned and scalded
them, being half naked, that they roared out like two bulls. and
enraged with the fire, leaped both into the sea. The carpenter
saw it, and cried out, ‘‘ Well done, Jack! give them some more of
it;” and stepping forward himself, takes one of their mops, and dip-
ping it in the pitch-pot, he and his man threw it among them so
plentifully, that, in short, of all the men in the three boats, there
was not one that was not scalded and burned with it in a most
frightful and pitiful manner, and made such a howling and crying
that [ never heard a worse noise, and indeed nothing like it: for
it is worth observing that though pain naturally makes all people
cry out, yet every nation has a particular way of exclamation and
making noises, as different from one another as their speech. I
cannot give the noise these creatures made a better name than
howling, nor a name more proper to the tone of it; for I never
heard anything more like the noise of the wolves, which, as I have
said, I heard howl in the forest on the frontiers of Languedoc.

J was never pleased with a victory better in my life; not only
as it was a perfect surprise to me, and that our danger was imminent
before, but as we got this victory without any bloodshed, except of
that man the fellow killed with his naked hands, and which I was
very much concerned at; for I was sick of killing such poor savage
wretches, even though it was in my own defence, knowing they
came on errands which they thought just, and knew no better.
And though it may be a just thing, because necessary, for there
is no necessary wickedness in nature, yet I thought it was a sad
life, in which we must be always obliged to be killing our fellow-
creatures to preserve our own; and indeed I think so still, and I
would even now suffer a great deal, rather than I would take away
the life even of the person injuring me. And I believe all consider-
ing people, who know the value of life, would be of my opinion; at
least they would, if they entered seriously into the consideration
of it.

But to return to my story. All the while this was doing, my
partner and T, who managed the rest of the men on board, had with
656 THE ISLAND OF FORMOSA.

great dexterity brought the ship almost to rights; and having gotten
the guns into their places again, the gunner called to me to bid
our boat get out of the way, for he wonld let fly among them. [
called back again to him, and bid him not offer to fire, for the
carpenter would do the work without him, but bade him heat
another pitch-kettle; which our cook, who was on board, took care
of. But the enemy were so terrified with what they had met with
in their first attack, that they would not come on again. And
some of them that were furthest off, seeing the ship swim as it were
upright, began, as we supposed, to see their mistake, and give over
the enterprise, finding it was not as they expected. ‘Thus we got
clear of this merry fight; and having gotten some rice, and some
roots, and bread, with about sixteen good big hogs, on board two
days before, we resolved to stay here no longer, but go forward,
whatever came of it; for we made no doubt but we should be
surrounded the next day with rogues enough, perhaps more than
our pitch-kettle would dispose of for us.

We therefore got all our things on board the same evening, and
the next morning we were ready to sail. In the meantime, lying
at’ an anchor at some distance, we were not so much concerned,
being now in a fighting posture as well as in a sailing posture, if
any enemy had presented. The next day, having finished our work
within board, and finding our ship was perfectly healed of all her
leaks, we set sail. We would have gone into the Bay of Tonquin,
for we wanted to inform ourselves of what was to be known con-
cerning the Dutch ships that had been there; but we durst not
stand in there, because we had seen several ships go in, as we sup-
posed, but a little before; so we kept on north-east, towards
the Isle of Formosa, as much afraid of being seen by a Dutch or
English merchant ship, as a Dutch or English merchant ship in
the Mediterranean is of an Algerine man-of-war.

When we were thus got to sea, we kept out north-east, as if
we would go to the Manillas or the Philippine Islands; and this
we did that we might not fall into the way of any of our European
ships; and then we steered north until we came to the latitude of
22 degrees, 30 minutes, by which means we made the Island of
Formosa directly, where we came to an anchor, in order to get water
THE PORTUGUESE PILOT. 557

and fresh provisions; which the people there, who are very cour:
teous and civil in their manners, supplied us with willingly, and
dealt very fairly and punctually with us in all their agreements and
bargains; which is what we did not find among other people, and may
be owing to the remains of Christianity, which was once planted
here by a Dutch missionary of Protestants, and is a testimony of
what I have often observed, namely, that the Christian religion
always civilizes the people, and reforms their manners, where it is
received, whether it works saving effects upon them or no,

From hence we sailed still north, keeping the coast of China at an
equal distance, till we knew we were beyond all the ports of China
where our European ships usually come, being resolved if possible
not to fall into any of their hands, especially in this country,
where, as our circumstances were, we could not fail of being
entirely ruined; nay, so great was my fear in particular as to my
being taken by them, that I believe firmly I would much rather
have chosen to fall into the hands of the Spanish Inquisition.

Being now come to the latitude of 30 degrees, we resolved to
put into the first trading port we should come at; and standing
in fer the shore, a boat came off two leagues to us, with an old
Portuguese pilot on board, who, knowing us to be a European ship,
came to offer his service, which indeed we were very glad of, and
took him on board; upon which, without asking us whither we
would go, he dismissed the boat he came in, and sent them back.

I thought it was now so much in our choice to make the old
man carry us whither we would, that I began to talk with him about
carrying us to the Gulf of Nankin, which is the most northern
part of the coast of China. The old man said he knew the Gulf
of Nankin very well; but smiling, asked us what we would do
there.

I told him we would sell our cargo and purchase China wares,
calicoes, raw silks, tea, wrought silks, &c., and so would return by
the same course we came. He told us our best port had been to
have put in at Macao, where we could not have failed of a market
for our opium to our satisfaction, and might for our money have
purchased all sorts of China goods as cheap as we could at
Nankin.
558 THE GREAT CANAT,

 

“TREGQAN TO TALK WITH HIM ABOUT CARRYING US TO TILK
GULF OF NANKIN.”

Not being able to put the old man out of his talk, of which he
was very opinionated or conceited, I told him we were gentlemen
as well as merchants, and that we had a mind to go and sce the
great city of Pekin, and the famous court of the monarch of
China. “Why, then,” says the old man, “you should go to
Ningpo, where, by the river which runs into the sea there, you
may go up within five leagues of the Great Canal.”” This canal is
a navigable river, which goes through the heart of all that vast
empire of China, crosses all the rivers, passes some considerable
hills by the help of sluices and gates, and goes up to the city of
Pekin: being in length near two hnndred and seventy leagues.
CRUSOE AND HIS CONFUSION. 659

“Well,” said I, “ Seignior Portuguese, but that is not our busi-
ness now. ‘Lhe great question is, if you can carry us up to the
city of Nankin, from whence we can travel to Pekin afterwards.”
“Yes,” he said, “he could do so very well, and that there was a
great Dutch ship gone by that way just before.” This gave me a
little shock ; a Dutch ship was now our terror, and we had much
rather have met the devil, at least if he had not come in too
frightful a figure; and we depended upon it that a Dutch ship
would be our destruction, for we were in no condition to fight them;
all the ships they trade with into those parts being of great bur-
den and of much greater force than we were.

The old man found me a little confused, and under some con-
cern when he named a Dutch ship, and said to me, “ Sir, you
need be under no apprehensions of the Dutch, I suppose they are
* “No,” says I, “ that’s true; but
I know not what liberties men may take when they are out of the
reach of the law.” “ Why,’ says he, “you are no pirates, what
need you fear? They will not meddle with peaceable merchants,
sure.”

not now at war with your nation.’

If T had any blood in my body that did not fly up into my face
at that word, it was hindered by some stop in the vessels appointed
hy Nature to prevent it; for it put me into the greatest disorder
and confusion imaginable. Nor was it possible for me to conceal
it so, but that the old man easily perceived it.

“Sir,” says he, “I find you are in some disorder in your
thoughts at my talk; pray be pleased to go which way you think
fit, and depend upon it P’ll do you all the service I can.” ‘ Why,
scignior,” said 1, “it is true I am a little unsettled in my resolu-
tion at this time whither to go in particular; and I am something
more so for what you said about pirates. I hope there are no
pivates in these seas; we are but in an ill condition to meet with
them, for you see we have but a small force, and but very weakly
manned.”

““( sir,” says he, “do not be concerned; I do not know that
there have been any pirates in these seas these fifteen years, except
one which was seen, as I hear, in the Bay of Siam about a month

since; but you may be assured she is gone to the southward. Nor
(24) 36
660 HANG FIRST, AND JUDGE AFTERWARDS,

was she a ship of any great force, or fit for the work. She was not
built for a privateer, but was run away with by a reprobate crew
that were on board, after the captain and some of his men had
been murdered by the Malayans at or near the Island of Sumatra.”

“What!” said I, seeming to know nothing of the matter, “did
they murder the captain?” “No,” said he ; ‘1 do not understand
that they murdered him; but as they afterwards ran away with
the ship, it is generally believed they betrayed him into the hands
of the Malayans, who did murder him, and perhaps they procured
them to do it.” “ Why then,” said I, “they deserve death as
much as if they had done it themselves.” “ Yea,” says the old
man, ‘ they do deserve it, and they will certainly have it, if they
light upon any English or Dutch ship; for they have all agreed
together that if they meet that rogue they will give him no
quarter,”

“But,” said I to him, ‘you say the pirate is gone out of those
seas. How can they meet with him?” “ Why, that is true,”
says he. ‘ They do say so; but he was, as T tell you, in the Bay
of Siam, in the river Cambodia, and was discovered there by some
Dutchmen who belonged to the ship, and who were left on shore
when they ran away with her; and some English and Dutch
traders being in the river, they were within a little of taking him.
Nay,” said he, “if the foremost boats had been well seconded
hy the rest, they had certainly taken him; but he finding only
two boats within reach of him, tacked about, and fired at these
tivo, and disabled them before the others came up; and then stand-
ing off to sea, the others were not able to follow him, and so he
got away. But they have all so exact a description of the ship
that they will be sure to know him; and wherever they find him
they have vowed to give no quarter, to cither the captain or the
seunen, but to hang them all up at the yard-arm.”

“What!” says I; “will they execute them right or wrong;
hang them first, and judge them afterwards?” ‘°O sir!’ says
the old pilot, “ there’s no need to make a formal business of it with
such rogues as those; let them tie them back to back and set
them a diving. It is no more than they richly deserve.”

T knew T had my old man fast aboard, and that he could do me
THE OLD MAN’S ADVICE. 56]

no harm, so that [ turned short upon him. ‘“ Well now, seignior,”
said T, “and this is the very reason why I would have you carry ue
up to Nankin, and not to put back to Macao, or to any other
part of the country where the English or Dutch ships come. For
be it known to you, seignior, those captains of the English and
Dutch ships are a parcel of rash, proud, insolent fellows, that
neither know what belongs to justice, nor how to behave them-
selves as the laws of God and nature direct. But being proud of
their offices, and not understanding their power, they would act
the murderers to punish robbers; would take upon them to insult
men falsely accused, and determine them guilty without due in-
quiry. And perhaps I may live to call some of them to an account
for it, where they may be taught how justice is to be executed,
and that no man ought to be treated as a criminal until some
evidence may be had of the crime, and that he is the man.”

With this T told him that this was the very ship they attacked;
and gave him a full account of the skirmish we had with their
boats, and how foolishly and coward-like they behaved. I told
him all the story of our buying the ship, and how the Dutchmen
served us. [told him the reasons [ had to believe that this story
of killing the master by the Malayans was not true; as also the
running away with the ship: but that it was all a fiction of their
own, to suggest that the men were turned pirates; and they
onght to have been sure it was so before they had ventured to
attack us by surprise, and oblige us to resist them; adding, that
they would have the blood of those men whom we killed there in
our just defence to answer for,

The old man was amazed at this relation, and told us we were
very much in the right to go away to the north; and that if he
might advise us, it should be to sell the ship in China, which we
might very well do,and buy or build another in the country. “ And,”
said he, “ though you will not get so good a ship, yet you may
get one able enough to carry you and all your goods back again to
Bengal, or anywhere else.”

I told him T would take his advice when I came to any port
where I could find a ship for my turn, or get any customer to buy
this. He replied I should meet with customers enough for the
662 CRUSOE’S STATEMENT.

ship at Nankin, and that a Chinese junk would serve me very
well to go back again; and that he would procure me people both
to buy the one and sell the other.

“Well but, seignior,” says I, “as you say they know the ship
so well, I may perhaps, if I follow your measures, be instrumental
to bring some honest innocent man into a terrible broil, and per-
haps to be murdered in cold blood; for wherever they find the
ship they will prove the guilt upon the men by proving this was
the ship, and so innocent men may probably be overpowered and
murdered.” “ Why,” says the old man, “ I will find out a way to
prevent that also; for as I know all those commanders you speak of
very well, and shall see them all as they pass by, I will be sure to
set them to rights in the thing, and let them know that they had
been so much in the wrong: that though the people who were on
board at first might run away with the ship, yet it was not true
that they had turned pirates; and that in particular these were
not the men that first went off with the ship, but innocently
bought her for their trade: and I am persuaded they will so far
believe me as, at least, to act more cautiously for the time to
come.” ‘ Well,” says I; “and will you deliver one message to
them from me?” “ Yes, I will,” says he, “if you will give it
under your hand in writing, that I may be able to prove that it
came from you, and not ont of my own head.” I answered,
‘That I would readily give it him under my hand.” So I took
a pen, and ink, and paper, and wrote at large the story of assault-
ing me with the longboats, &c.; the pretended reason of it, and
the unjust cruel design of it; and concluded to the commanders,
that they had done what they not only should have been ashamed
of, but also, that if ever they came to England, and I lived to see
them there, they should all pay dearly for it, if the laws of my
country were not grown out of use before I arrived there.

My old pilot read this over and over again, and asked me
several times if I would stand to it? I answered, ‘I would stand
to it as long as 1 had anything left in the world;” being sensible
that I should one time or other find an opportunity to put it home
to them. But we had no vvcasion ever to let the pilot carry thie
letter; for he never went back again. While these things were
THE PORT OF QUINCHANG. 563

passing between us, by way of discourse, we went forward directly
for Nankin; and in about thirteen days’ sail came to an anchor at
the south-west point of the great Gulf of Nankin, where, by the
way, I came by accident to understand that two Dutch ships were
gone the length before me, and, that I should certainly fall into
their hands. I consulted my partner again in this exigency; and
he was as much at a loss as I was, and would very gladly have
been safe on shore almost anywhere. However, I was not in such
perplexity neither; but I asked the old pilot if there was no creek
or harbour which I might put into, and pursue my business with
the Chinese privately, and be in no danger of the enemy? He
told me if I would sail to the southward about two and forty
leagues, there was a little port called Quinchang, where the fathers
of the mission usually landed from Macao, on their progress to
teach the Christian religion to the Chinese, and where no Euro-
pean ships ever put in; and if I thought to put in there, I might
consider what further course to take when I was ashore. He con-
fessed, he said, it was not a place for merchants, except that at
some certain times they had a kind of a fair there, when the mer-
chants from Japan came over to buy the Chinese merchandise.

We all agreed to go back to this place. The name of the port
as he called it [ may perhaps spell wrong, for I do not particu-
larly remember it, having lost this, together with the names of
many other places set down in a little pocket-book which was
spoiled by the water, on an accident which I shall relate in its
order; but this I remember, that the Chinese or Japanese mer-
chants we corresponded with called it by a different name from
that which our Portuguese pilot gave it, and pronounced it, as
above, Quinchang.

As we were unanimous in our resolutions to go to this place,
we weighed the next day, having only gone twice ashore, where
we were to get fresh water; on both which occasions the people
of the country were very civil to us, and brought us abundance of
things to sell to us, I mean, of provisions, plants, roots, tea, rice,
and some fowls; but nothing without money.

We came to the other port (the wind being contrary) not till
five days, but it was very wuch to our satisfaction. And I wag
664 INFLUENCE OF FEAR.

joyful, and I may say thankful, when I set my foot safe ou shore,
resolving, and my partner too, that if it was possible to dispose of
ourselves and effects any other way, though not every way to our
satisfaction, we would never set. one foot on board that unhappy
vessel more; and, indeed, IT must acknowledge, that of all the
circumstances of life that ever T had any experience of, nothing
makes mankind so completely miserable as that of being in constant
fear. Well does the Scripture say, “The fear of man bringeth a
snare: ”’ it is a life of death, and the mind is so entirely suppressed
by it, that it is capable of no relief; the animal spirits sink, and
all the vigour of nature, which usually supports men under other
afflictions, and is present to them in the greatest exigencies, fails
them here.

Nor did it fail of its usual operations upon the fancy, by height-
ening every danger, representing the English and Dutch captains
to be men incapable of hearing reason, or of distinguishing be-
tween honest men and rogues; or between a story calculated for
our own turn, made out of nothing, on purpose to deceive, and a
true genuine account of our whole voyage, progress, and design.
Vor we might many ways have convineed any reasonable creature
that we were not pirates: the goods we had on board, the course
we steered, our frankly showing ourselves, and entering into such
and such ports; and even our very manner, the force we had, the
number of men, the few arms, little ammunition, short provisions ;
all these would have served to convince any men that we were no
pirates. The opium, and other goods we had on board, would
make it appear the ship had been at Bengal. The Dutchmen,
who, it was said, had the names of all the men that were in the
ship, might easily see that we were a mixture of English, Portu-
guese, and Indians, and but two Dutchmen on board. These,
and many other particular circumstances, might have made it
evident to the understanding of any commander, whose hands we
might fall into, that we were no pirates.

But fear, that blind, useless passion, worked another way, and
threw us into the vapours; it bewildered our understandings, and set
the imagination at work to form a thousand terrible things that
perhaps might never happen. We first supposed, as indeed every-
A VIOLENT DREAM. 56E

body had related to us, that the seamen on board the English and
Dutch ships, but especially the Dutch, were so enraged at the
name of a pirate, and especially at our beating off their boats
and escaping, that they would not give themselves leave to inquire
whether we were pirates or no, but would execute us off-hand, as
we call it, without giving us any room for a defence. We reflected
that there was really so much apparent evidence before them, that
they would scarce inquire alter any more; as, first, that the ship
was certainly the same, and that some of the seamen among them
knew her, and had been on board her; and, secondly, that when
we had intelligence at the river of Cambodia that they were coming
down to examine us, we fought their boats and fled: so that we
made no doubt that they were fully satisfied of our being pirates,
as we were satisfied of the contrary; and, as I often said, I know
not but I should have been apt to have taken those circumstances
for evidence, if the tables were turned, and my case was theirs,
and have made no scruple of cutting all the crew to pieces, without
believing, or perhaps considering, what they might have to offer in
their defence.

But let that be how it will, those were our apprehensions; and
both my partner and T too scarce slept a night without dreaming
of halters and yard-arms—that is to say, gibbets, of fighting, and
being taken; of killing, and being killed; and one night I was in
such a fury in my dream, fancying the Dutchmen had boarded us,
and T was knocking one of their seamen down, that I struck my
double fist against the side of the cabin I lay in, with such a force
as wounded my hand most grievously, broke my knuckles, and cut
and bruised the flesh ; so that it not only waked me out of my
sleep, but I was once afraid I should have lost two of my fingers.

Another apprehension I had, was of the cruel usage we might
meet with from them if we fell into their hands. Then the story
of Amboyna came into my head, and how the Dutch might per-
haps torture us, as they did our countrymen there, and make some
of the men, by extremity of torture, confess those crimes they
never were guilty of, own themselves and all of us to be pirates,
and so they would put us to death, with a formal appearance of
justice; and that they might be tempted to do this for the gain
666 CONSOLATIONS OF RELIGION.

of our ship and cargo, which was worth four or five thousand
pounds, put all together.

These things tormented me, and my partner too, night and day;
nor did we consider that the captains of ships have no authority to
act thus; and if we had surrendered prisoners to them, they could
not answer the destroying us, or torturing us, but would be
accountable for it when they came into their own country: this, I
say, gave me no satisfaction; for if they will act thus with us,
what advantage would it be to us that they would be called to an
account for it? or if we were first to be murdered, what satisfac-
tion would it be to us to have them punished when they came
home?

T cannot refrain taking notice here what reflections I now had
upon the past variety of my particular circumstances; how hard
I thought it was that I, who had spent forty years in a life of
continued difliculties, and was at last come, as it were, to the port
or haven which all men drive at, namely, to have rest and plenty,
should be a volunteer in new sorrows by my own unhappy choice;
and that I, who escaped so many dangers in my youth, should now
come to be hanged in my old age, and in so remote a place, for a
crime I was not in the least inclined to, much less really guilty
of, and in a place and cireumstance where innocence was not like
to be any protection at all to me.

After these thoughts, something of religion would come in; and
I would be considering that this seemed to me to be a disposition
of immediate Providence, and I ought to look upon it, and submit
to it as such; that although [ was innocent as to men, I was far
from being innocent as to my Maker; and I ought to look in and
examine what other crimes in my life were more obvious to me,
and for which Providence might justly inflict this punishment as
a retribution; and that I ought to submit to this, just as I would
to a shipwreck, if it had pleased God to have brought such a dis-
aster upon me.

In its turn, natural courage would sometimes take its place,
and then I would be talking myself up to vigorous resolutions,
that I would not be taken, to be barbarously used, by a parcel of
merciless wretches, in cold blood: that it were much better to have
FORGOTTEN IN THE LUST OF FIGHTING, 667

fallen into the hands of the savages, who were men-eaters, and
who, I was sure, would feast upon me when they had taken me,
than by those, who would perhaps glut their rage upon me by
inhuman tortures and barbarities: that in the case of the savages, I
always resolved to die fighting to the last gasp ; and why should I
not do so now, seeing it was much more dreadful to me, at least, to
think of falling into these men’s hands, than ever it was to think of
being eaten by men; for the savages, give them their due, would

“not eat a man till he was dead, and killed him first, as we do a
bullock ; but that these men had many arts beyond the cruelty of
death. Whenever these thoughts prevailed I was sure to put my-
self in a kind of fever with the agitations of a supposed fight;
my blood would boil and my eyes sparkle as if 1 was engaged ;
and I always resolved that I would take no quarter at their hands,
but even at last, if I could resist no longer, I would blow up the
ship, and all that was in her, and leave them but little booty to
boast of.

By how much the greater weight the anxieties and perplexities
of these things were to our thoughts while we were at sea, by so
much the greater was our satisfaction when we saw ourselves on
shore; and my partner told me he dreamed that he had a very
heavy load upon his back, which he was to carry up a hill, and
found that he was not able to stand long under it; but that the
Portuguese pilot came and took it off his back, and the hill dis-
appeared, the ground before him showing all smooth and plain; and
truly it was so, we were all like men who had a load taken off
their backs.

For my part, I had a weight taken off from my heart that I
was not able any longer to bear; and, as I said above, we resolved
to go no more to sea in that ship. When we came on shore,
the old pilot, who was now our friend, got us a lodging and a
warehouse for our goods; which, by the way, was much the same.
It was a little house or hut, with a large house joining to it, all
built with canes, and palisadoed round with large canes to keep
out pilfering thieves, of which, it seems, there were not a few in
that country. However, the magistrates allowed us also a little
guard, and we had a sentinel with a kind of halberd, or half-pike,
568 A NEW ACQUAINTANCE,

who stood sentinel at our door; to whom we allowed a pint of
rice, and a little piece of money, about the value of threepence
per day; so that our goods were kept very safe.

The fair or mart usually kept in this place had been over some
time; however, we found that there were three or four junks in
the river, and two Japanners, T mean ships from Japan, with goods
which they had bought in China, and were not gone away, having
Japanese merchants on shore.

The first thing our old Portuguese pilot did for us, was to
bring us acquainted with three missionary Romish priests who were
in the town, and who had been there some time, converting the
people to Christianity; but we thought they made but poor work
of it, and made them but sorry Christians when they had done.
However, that was none of our business. One of these was a
Frenchman, whom they called Father Simon. He was a jolly, well-
conditioned man, very free in his conversation; not seeming 80
serious and grave as the other two did, one of whom was a Por-
tuguese, and the other a Genoese + but Father Simon was courteous,
easy in his manner, and very agreeable company. The other two
were more reserved, seemed rigid and austere, and applied seriously
to the work they came about, namely, to talk with and insinuate
themselves among the inhabitants wherever they had opportunity.
We often ate and drank with those men; and though T must confess
the conversion, as they call it, of the Chinese to Christianity is so
far from the true conversion required to bring heathen people to
the faith of Christ, that it seems to amount to little more than
letting them know the name of Christ, and say some prayers to
the Virgin Mary and her Son in a tongue which they understand
not, and to cross themselves, and the like, yet it must be confessed
that these religious, whom we call missionaries, have a firm belief
that these people shall be saved, and that they are the instruments
of it. And on this account they undergo, not only the fatigue of
the voyage, and hazards of living in such places, but oftentimes
death itself, with the most violent tortures, for the sake of this
work; and it would be a great want of charity in us, whatever
opinion we have of the work itself, and the manner of their doing
it, if we should not have a good opinion of their zeal, who under-
FATHER SIMON. 5u6

took it with so many hazards, and who have no prospect of the
least temporal advantage to themselves.

But to return to my story. This French priest, Father Simon,
was appointed, it seems, by order of the chief of the mission, to go up
to Pekin, the royal seat of the Chinese Emperor, and waited only
for another priest who was ordered to come to him from Macao to
go along with him; and we scarce ever met together but he was
inviting me to go that journey, telling me how he would show me
all the glorious things of that mighty empire; and, among the rest,
the greatest city in the world—‘“‘A city,” said he, “that your London
and our Paris put together cannot be equal to.” This was the city
of Pekin: which, I confess, is very great, and infinitely full of
people; but as I looked on those things with different eyes from
other men, so I shall give my opinion of them in few words, when
I come in the course of my travels to speak more particularly of
them,

But first, I come to my friar or missionary. Dining with him
one day, and being very merry together, I showed some little in-
clination to go with him, and he pressed me and my partner very
hard, and with a great many persuasions, to consent. ‘ Why,
Father Simon,” says my partner, “ why should you desire our
company so much? You know we are heretics, and you do not
love us, nor can keep us company with any pleasure.” “ Oh,”
says he, “you may, perhaps, be good Catholics in time; my busi-
ness here is to convert heathens, and who knows but I may convert
you too.” “ Very well, father,” said I; “so you will preach to us
all the way.” “I won’t be troublesome to you,” says he; ‘ our
religion does not divest us of good manners; besides,” says he,
“we are here like countrymen, and so we are, compared to the
place we arein; and if you are Huguenots and I a Catholic, we may
be all Christians at last; at least,” said he, ‘‘ we are all gentlemen,
and we may converse so without being uneasy to one another.” I
liked that part of his discourse very well, and it began to put me
in mind of my priest that I had left in the Brazils; but this Father
Simon did not come up to his character, by a great deal; for
though Father Simon had no appearance of a criminal levity in
him neither, yet he had not that fund of Christian zeal, strict
570 FATHER SIMON,

 

“DINING WITH HIM ONE DAY, AND BEING VERY MERRY TOGETHER,”

piety, and sincere affection to religion that my other good ecelesi-
astic had, of whom I have said so much.

But to leave him a little, though he never left us, nor soliciting
us to go with him; but we had something else before us at first:
for we had all this while our ship and our merchandise to dispose
of, and we began to be very doubtful what we should do, for we
were now ina place of very little business; and once I was about
A JAPANESE MERCHANT. 67)

to venture to sail for the river of Kilam and the city of Nankin
But providence seemed now more visibly, as I thought, than ever
to concern itself in our affair; and I was encouraged from this very
time to think I should one way or other get out of this tangled
circumstance and be brought home to my own country again, though
[had not the least view of the manner; and when I began some-
times to think of it, could not imagine by what method it was to
be done. Providence, I say, began here to clear up our way a little;
and the first thing that offered was, that our old Portuguese pilot
brought a Japan merchant to us, who began to inquire what goods
we had; and in the first place, he bought all our opium, and gave
us a very good price for it, paying us in gold by weight; some in
small pieces of their own coin, and some in small wedges of about
ten or eleven ounces each. While we were dealing with him for
our opium, it came into my head that he might perhaps deal with
us for the ship too, and I ordered the interpreter to propose it to
him. He shrunk up his shoulders at it when it was first proposed
to him, but in a few days after he came to me, with one of the
missionary priests for his interpreter, and told me he had a pro-
posal to make to me, and that was this: he had bought a great
quantity of goods of us, when he had no thoughts (or proposals
made to him) of buying the ship, and that, therefore, he had not
money enough to pay for the ship; but if I would let the same
men who were in the ship navigate her, he would hire the ship to
go to Japan, and would send them from thence to the Philippine
Islands with another loading, which he would pay the freight of
before they went from Japan; and that at their return he would
buy the ship. I began to listen to his proposal, and so eager did
my head still run upon rambling, that I could not but begin to
entertain a notion of going myself with him, and to sail from the
Philippine Islands away to the South Seas; and accordingly I
asked the Japan merchant if he would not hire us to the Philip-
pine islands and discharge us there. He said, No, he could not do
that, for then he could not have the return of his cargo; but he
would discharge us in Japan, he said, at the ship’s return. Well,
still I was for taking him at that proposal, and going myself; but
my partner, wiser than myself, persuaded me from it, representing
672 CRUSOE AND HIS PARTNER,

the dangers as well of the seas as of the Japanese, who are a false,
cruel, and treacherous people; and then of the Spaniards at the
Philippines, more false, more ernel, and more treacherous than
they.

But to bring this long turn of our affairs to a conclusion, the
first thing we had to do was to consult with the captain of the
ship, and with his men, and know if they were willing to go to
Japan. And while T was doing this, the young man whom, as I
said, my nephew had left with me as my companion for my travels,
came to me and told me that he thought that voyage promised
very fair, and that there was a great prospect of advantage, and he
would be very glad if T undertook it; but that if Lwould not, and
would give him leave, he would go as a merchant, or how T pleased
to order him; that if ever he came to England, and I was there
and alive, he would render me a faithful account of his success, and
it should be as much mine as T pleased,

T was really loath to part with him, but considering the prospect
of advantage, which was really considerable, and that he was a
young fellow as likely to do well in it as any T knew, T inclined to
let him go; but first TL told him T would consult my partner, and
give him an answer the next day. My partner and T discoursed about
it, and my partner made a most generous offer. He told me, “You
know it has been an unlucky ship, and we both resolve not to go
to sea in it again; if your steward,” so he called my man, “ will
venture the voyage, PIL leave my share of the vessel to him, and
let him make his best of it; and if wo live to meet in Wngland,
and he meets with success abroad, he shall account for one half of
the profits of the ship’s freight to us, the other shall be his own.”

Tf my partner, who was no way concerned with my young man,
made him such an offer, Eeonld do no less than offer him the same ;
and all the ship’s company being willing to go with him, we made
over half the ship to him in property, and took a writing from him,
obliging him to account for the other; and away he went to Japan.
The Japan merchant proved a very punctual, honest man to him,
protected him at Japan, and got him a license to come on shore,
which the Kuropeans in general have not lately obtained; paid
him his freight very punctually, sent him to the Philippines loaded
REWARDING THE DESERVING, 578

with Japan and China wares, and a supercargo of their own, who,
trafficking with the Spaniards, brought back Huropean goods again,
and a great quantity of cloves and other spices. And there he was
not only paid his freight very well and at a very good price, but
being not willing to sell the ship then, the merchant furnished him
with goods on his own account; that for some money and some
spices of his own, which he brought with him, he went back to the
Manillas to the Spaniards, where he sold his cargo very well.
Here, having gotten a good acquaintance at Manilla, he got his
ship made a free ship; and the Governor of Manilla hired him to
go to Acapulco, in America, on the coast of Mexico, and gave him
a license to land there, and travel to Mexico, and to pass in any
Spanish ship to Europe, with all his men,

Ile made the voyage to Acapulco very happily, and there he
sold his ship; and having there also obtained allowance to travel
by land to Portobello, he found means, somehow or other, to get
to Jamaica with all his treasure; and about eight years after, came
to England exceeding rich: of the which I shall take notice in
its place; in the meantime, I return to our particular affairs.

Being now to part with the ship and ship’s company, it came
before us, of course, to consider what recompense we should give
to the two men that gave us such timely notice of the design
against us in the river of Cambodia. The truth was, that they had
done us a considerable service, and deserved well at our hands ;
though, by the way, they were a couple of rogues too; for as they
believed the story of our being pirates, and that we had really run
away with the ship, they came down to us, not only to betray the
design that was formed against us, but to go to sea with us as
pirates; and one of them confessed afterwards, that nothing else
but the hopes of going a-roguing brought him to do it. However,
the service they did us was not the less; and therefore, as I had
promised to be grateful to them, I first ordered the money to be
paid to them which they said was due to them on board their
respective ships; that is to say, the Knglishman nineteen months’
pay, and to the Dutchman seven; and over and above that, I gave
them, each of them, a small sum of money in gold, and which
contented them very well. Then I made the Englishman gunner
574 SOMETHING ABOUT CHINA.

in the ship, the gunner being now made second mate and purser ;
the Dutchman I made boatswain: so they were both very well
pleased, and proved very serviceable, being both able seamen, and
very stout fellows.

We were now on shore in China. Uf I thought myself banished
and remote from my own country at Bengal, where I had many
ways to get home for my money, what could I think of myself
now, when T was gotten about a thousand leagues further off
from home, and perfectly destitute of all manner. of prospect of
return ?

All we had for it was this, that in about four months’ time there
was to be another fair at the place where we were; and then we
might be able to purchase all sorts of the manufactures of the
country, and withal might possibly find some Chinese junks or
vessels from ‘Tonquin that would be to be sold, and would carry us
and our goods whither we pleased. This I liked very well, and
resolved to wait; besides, as our particular persons were not
obnoxious, so if any English or Dutch ships came thither, perhaps
we might have an opportunity to load our goods and get passage
to some other place in India, nearer home.

Upon these hopes we resolved to continue here; but to divert
ourselves, we took two or three journeys into the country. First
we went ten days’ journey to see the city of Nankin: a city well
worth seeing indeed. They say it has a million of people in it;
which, however, I do not believe. It is regularly built, the streets
all exactly straight, and cross one another in direct lines, which gives
the figure of it great advantage.

But when I come to compare the miserable people of these
countries with ours, their fabrics, their manner of living, their
government, their religion, their wealth, and their glory (as some
call it), IT must confess I do not so much as think it is worth
naming, or worth my while to write of, or any that shall come
alter me to read.

it is very observable, that we wonder at the grandeur, the
riches, the pomp, the ceremonies, the government, the manu-
factures, the commerce, and the conduct of these people; not that
it ia to be avondered at, or, indeed, in the least to be regarded, but
ITS INHERENT WEAKNESS, 676

because, having first a true notion of the barbarity of those coun-
tries, the rudeness and the ignorance that prevail there, we do not
expect to find any such things so far off.

Otherwise, what are their buildings to the palaces and royal
buildings of Europe? What is their trade to the universal com-
merce of England, Holland, France, and Spain? What are their
cities to ours, for wealth, strength, gaiety of apparel, rich furniture,
and an infinite variety? What are their ports, supplied with a
few junks and barks, to our navigation, our merchant fleets, our
large and powerful navies? Our city of London has more trade
than all their mighty empire. One English, or Dutch, or French
man-of-war of eighty guns would fight and destroy all the shipping
of China. But the greatness of their wealth, their trade, the
power of their government, and strength of their armies, are sur-
prising to us, because, as I have said, considering them as a bar-
barous nation of pagans, little better than savages, we did not
expect such things among them ; and this, indeed, is the advantage
with which all their greatness and power is represented to us.
Otherwise, it is in itself nothing at all; for as I have said of their
ships, so may be said of their armies and troops. All the forces
of their empire, though they were to bring two millions of men into
the field together, would be able to do nothing but ruin the country
and starve themselves. If they were to besiege a strong town in
Flanders, or to fight a disciplined army, one line of German
cuirassiers or of French cavalry would overthrow all the horse of
China. A million of their foot could not stand before one em-
battled body of our infantry, posted so as not to be surrounded,
though they were to be not one to twenty in number; nay, I do
not boast if I say that 30,000 German or English foot, and 10,000
French horse, would fairly beat all the forces of China. And so of
our fortified towns, and of the art of our engineers in assaulting
and defending towns. There is not a fortified town in China could
hold out one month against the batteries and attacks of an
Kuropean army; and, at the same time, all the armies in China
could never take such a town as Dunkirk, provided it was not
starved, no, not in ten years’ siege. They have firearms, it is
true, but they are awkward, clumsy, and uncertain in going off.

(25h)
576 IGNORANCE OF THE CHINESE.

They have powder, but it is of no strength. They have neither
discipline in the field, exercise to their arms, skill to attack, nor
temper to retreat. And therefore I must confess it seemed strange
to me, when I came home and heard our people say such fine things
of the power, riches, glory, magnificence, and trade of the Chinese ;
because I saw and knew that they were a contemptible herd, or
crowd of ignorant, sordid slaves, subjected to a government qualified
only to rule such a people. And in a word (for I am now launched
quite beside my design)—I say, in a word, were not its distance
inconceivably great from Muscovy, and were not the Muscovite
empire almost as rude, impotent, and ill-governed a crowd of slaves
as they, the Czar of Muscovy might with much ease drive them all
out of their country, and conquer them in one campaign. And
had the Czar, who I since hear is a growing prince, and begins to
appear formidable in the world, fallen this way, instead of attack-
ing the warlike Swedes (in which attempt none of the powers of
Kurope would have envied or interrupted him), he might by this
time have been Emperor of China, instead of being beaten by the
King of Sweden at Narva, when the latter was not one to six in
number. As their strength and their grandeur, so their naviga-
tion, commerce, and husbandry are imperfect and impotent, com-
pared to the same things in Hurope; also their knowledge, their
learning, their skill in the sciences. They have globes and spheres,
and a snatch of the knowledge of the mathematics; but when you
come to inquire into their knowledge, how short-sighted are the
wisest of their students! They know nothing of the motion of
the heavenly bodies; and so grossly and absurdly ignorant, that
when the sun is eclipsed, they think it is a great dragon has
assaulted and run away with it, and they fall a clattering with all
the drums and kettles in the country, to fright the monster away,
just as we do to hive a swarm of bees!

As this is the only excursion of this kind which I have made
in all the account I have given of my travels, so I shall make no
more descriptions of countries and people; it is none of my busi-
ness, or any part of my design, but giving an account of my own
adventures, through a life of inimitable wanderings, and a long
variety of changes, which perhaps few that come after me will have
A VISIT TO PEKIN. 677

heard the like of. I shall therefore say very little of all the
mighty places, desert countries, and numerous people I have yet
to pass through more than relates to my own story, and which my
concern among them will make necessary. I was now, as near as
I can compute, in the heart of China, about the latitude of 30
degrees north of the line, for we were returned from Nankin. I
had indeed a mind to see the city of Pekin, which I had heard so
much of, and Father Simon importuned me daily to do it. At
length his time of going away being set, and the other missionary
who was to go with him being arrived from Macao, it was neces-
sary that we should resolve either to go or not to go; so I referred
him to my partner, and left it wholly to his choice, who at length
resolved it in the affirmative, and we prepared for our journey.
We set out with very good advantage as to finding the way; for
we got leave to travel in the retinue of one of their mandarins—-
a kind of viceroy, or principal magistrate in the province where
they reside, and who take great state upon them, travelling with
great attendance, and with great homage from the people, who are
sometimes greatly impoverished by them, because all the countries
they pass through are obliged to furnish provisions for them and
all their attendance. That which I particularly observed, as to
our travelling with his baggage, was this, that though we received
sufficient provisions, both for ourselves and our horses, from the
country, as belonging to the mandarin, yet we were obliged to pay
for everything we had after the market price of the country, and
the mandarin’s steward, or commissary of the provisions, collected
it duly from us; so that our travelling in the retinue of the man-
darin, though it was a very great kindness to us, was not such a
mighty favour in him, but was indeed a great advantage to him,
considering there were above thirty other people travelled in the
same manner besides us, under the protection of his retinue, or, as
we may call it, under his convoy. This, I say, was a great advantage
to him, for the country furnished all the provisions for nothing,
snd he took all our money for them.

We were five and twenty days travelling to Pekin, through a
country infinitely populous, but miserably cultivated; the hur-
bandry, the economy, and the way of living miserable, though they
578 TRAVELLING IN CHINA.

boast so much of the industry of the people. I say miserable, and
s0 it is, if we who understand how to live were to endure it, or to
compare it with our own; but not so to these poor wretches who
know no other. The pride of these people is infinitely great, and
exceeded by nothing but their poverty, which adds to that which
I call their misery. And I must needs think the naked savages
of America live much more happily, because, as they have nothing,
so they desire nothing; whereas these are proud and insolent, and
in the main are mere beggars and drudges. ‘Their ostentation is
inexpressible, and is chiefly shown in their clothes and buildings,
and in keeping multitudes of servants or slaves; and, which is to
the last degree ridiculous, their contempt of all the world but
themselves.

I must confess I travelled more pleasantly afterwards in the
deserts and vast wildernesses of Grand Tartary than here; and yet
the roads here are well paved, and well kept, and very convenient
for travellers; but nothing was more awkward to me than to see
such a haughty, imperious, insolent people, in the midst of the
grossest simplicity and ignorance; for all their famed ingenuity is
no more. And my friend Father Simon and I used to be very
merry upon these occasions, to see the beggarly pride of those
people. For example, coming by the house of a country gentle-
man, as Father Simon called him, about ten leagues off of the city of
Nankin, we had first of all the honour to ride with the master of
the house about two miles. The state he rode in was a perfect
Don Quixotism, being a mixture of pomp and poverty.

The habit of this greasy don was very proper for a scaramouch
or merry Andrew, being a dirty calico, with all the tawdry and
trapping of a fool’s coat, such as hanging sleeves, tassels, and cuts
and slashes almost on every side. It covered a taffeta vest, as
greasy as a butcher, and which testified that his honour must needs
be a most exquisite sloven.

His horse was a poor, lean, starved, hobbling creature, such as
in England might sell for about thirty or forty shillings; and he
had two slaves followed him on foot to drive the poor creature
along. He had a whip in his hand, and he belaboured the beast
as fast about the head as his slaves did about the tail: and thus
A CHINESE MANDARIN. 579

he rode by us with about ten or twelve servants, and we were told
he was going from the city to his country-seat, about half a league
before us. We travelled on gently, but this figure of a gentleman
rode away before us, and we stopped at a village about an hour to
refresh us. When we came by the country-seat of this great man,
we saw him in a little place before his door eating his repast. It
was a kind of a garden, but he was easy to be seen; and we were
given to understand that the more we looked on him the better he
would be pleased.

He sat under a tree something like the palmetto tree, which
effectually shaded him over the head; and on the south side, but
under the tree also, was placed a large umbrella, which made that
part look well enough. He sat lolling back in a great elbow-chair,
being a heavy corpulent man, and his meat being brought him by
two women slaves. He had two more, whose office, I think, few
gentlemen in Europe would accept of their service in—namely, one
fed the squire with a spoon, and the other held the dish with one
hand, and scraped off what he let fall upon his worship’s beard and
taffeta vest; while the great fat brute thought it below him to
employ his own hands in any of those familiar offices, which kings
and monarchs would rather do than be troubled with the clumsy
fingers of their servants.

I took this time to think what pains men’s pride puts them to,
and how troublesome a haughty temper, thus ill managed, must
be to a man of common sense. And leaving the poor wretch to
please himself with our looking at him, as if we admired his
pomp, whereas we really pitied and contemned him, we pursued
our journey. Only Father Simon had the curiosity to stay tc
inform himself what dainties the country justice had to feed on
in all his state, which, he said, he had the honour to taste of, and
which was, I think, a dose that an English hound would scarce
have eaten if it had been offered him, namely, a mess of boiled
rice, with a great piece of garlic in it, and a little bag filled with
green pepper, and another plant which they have there, something
like our ginger, but smelling like musk, and tasting like mustard.
All this was put together, and a small lump or piece of lean
mutton boiled in it; and this was his worship’s repast, four or
580 SOMETHING TO GLADDEN THE HEART.

five servants more attending at a distance. If he fed them meaner
than he was fed himself, the spice excepted, they must fare very
coarsely indeed.

As for our mandarin, with whom we travelled, he was respected
like a king; surrounded always with his gentlemen, and attended
in all his appearances with such pomp that I saw little of him but
at a distance. But this I observed, that there was not a horse in
his retinue, but that our carriers’ pack-horses in England seem to
me to look much better; but they were so covered with equipage,
mantles, trappings, and such like trumpery, that you cannot see
whether they are fat or lean, In a word, we could see scarce any-
thing but their feet and their heads.

I was now light-hearted, and all my trouble and perplexity
that T have given an account of being over, [had no anxious
thoughts about me, which made this journey the pleasanter to
me; nor had any ill accident attended me, only in the passing
or fording a small river, my horse fell, and made me free of the
country, as they call it, that is to say, threw me in. ‘The place
was not deep, but it wetted me all over. I mention it because it
spoiled my poeket-book, wherein [ had set down the names of
several people and places, which T had occasion to remember; and
which, not taking due care of, the leaves rotted, and the words
were never after to be read, to my great loss as to the names of
some places I touched at in this voyage.

At length we arrived at Pekin. I had nobody with me but the
youth whom my nephew, the captain, had given me to attend me
as a servant, and who proved very trusty and diligent; and my
partner had nobody with him but one servant, who was a kins-
man. As for the Portuguese pilot, he being desirous to see the
court, we gave him his passage—that is to say, bore his charges
for his company, and to use him as an interpreter; for he under-
stood the language of the country, and spoke good French, and a
little English. And, indeed, this old man was a most useful
implement to us everywhere; for we had not been above a week
at Pekin when he came laughing. ‘ Ah, Seignior Inglese,” says
he. “1 have something to tell you will make your heart glad.”
“My heart glad,” says I.‘ What can that be? T don't
A CARAVAN FOR MUSCOVY, 681

know anything in this country can either give me joy or grief to
any great degree.” ‘Yes, yes,” said the old man, in broken
English; “make you glad, me sorrow.” ‘ Sorry” he would have
said. This made me more inquisitive. ‘Why,’ said I, ‘“ will it
make you sorry?” “ Because,” said he, “ you have brought me
here twenty-five days’ journey, and will leave me to go back
alone. And which way shall I get to my port afterwards, without
a ship, without a horse, without pecune?” So he called money,
being his broken Latin, of which he had abundance to make us
merry with.

In short, he told us there was a great caravan of Muscovite and
Polish merchants in the city, and they were preparing to set out
on their journey by land to Muscovy, within four or five weeks;
and he was sure we would take the opportunity to go with them,
and leave him behind to go back all alone. I confess I was sur-
prised with his news; a secret joy spread itself over my whole
soul, which [ cannot describe, and never felt before or since, and I
had no power for a good while to speak a word to the old man.
But at last [ turned to him. ‘ How do you know this?” said I.
* Ave you sure it is true?” ‘ Yes,”’ sayshe: “I met this morn-
ing in the street an old acquaintance of mine, an Armenian, or
one you call a Grecian, who is among them. He came last from
Astracan, and was designing to go to Tonquin, where I formerly
knew him, but has altered his mind, and is now resolved to go
with the caravan to Moscow, and so down the river Volga to
Astracan.” ‘ Well, seignior,” says I, ‘“‘do not be uneasy about
being left to go back alone. If this be a method for my return
to England, it shall be your fault if you go back to Macao at all.”
We then went to consulting together what was to be done, and I
asked my partner what he thought of the pilot’s news, and
whether it would suit with his affairs? He told me he would
do just as I would; for he had settled all his affairs so well at
Bengal, and left his effects in such good hands, that as we had
made a good voyage here, if he could vest it in China silks,
wrought and raw, such as might be worth the carriage, he would
be content to go to England, and then make his voyage back to
Bengal by the Company’s ships.
682 THE PORTUGAL PILOT,

Having resolved upon this, we agreed that, if our Portugal
pilot would go with us, we would bear his charges to Moscow, or
to England if he pleased. Nor, indeed, were we to be esteemed
over-generous in that part neither, if we had not rewarded him
further, for the service he had done us was really werth all that,
and more: for he had not only been a pilot to us at sea, but he
had been like a broker for us on shore; and his procuring for us
the Japan merchant was some hundred of pounds in our pocket.
So we consulted together about it, and being willing to gratify
him, which was indeed but doing him justice, and very willing
also to have him with us besides, for he was a most necessary man
on all occasions, we agreed to give him a quantity of coined gold,
which, as I compute it, came to about £175 sterling between us,
and to bear all his charges, both for himself and horse, except
only a horse to carry his goods.

Having settled this among ourselves, we called him to let him
know what we had resolved. I told him he had complained of our
being to let him go back alone, and I was now to tell him we
were resolved he should not go back at all; that as we had re-
solved to go to Europe with the caravan, we resolved also he
should go with us; and that we called him to know his mind.
He shook his head, and said it was a long journey, and he had no
pecune to carry him thither, or to subsist himself when he came
there. We told him we believed it was so, and therefore we had
resolved to do something for him that should let him see how
sensible we were of the service he had done us, and also how
agreeable he was to us. And then I told him what we had re-
solved to give him here, which he might lay out as we would do
our own; and that as for his charges, if he would go with us, we
would set him safe ashore, life and casualties excepted, either in
Muscovy or England, which he would, at our own charge, except
only the carriage of his goods.

He received the proposal lke a man transported, and told
us he would go with us over the whole world; and so, in
short, we all prepared ourselves for the journey. However,
as it was with us, so it was with the other merchants: they had
many things to do, and instead of being ready in five weeks,
JOINING THE CARAVAN. 583

it was four months and some odd days before all things were got
together.

It was the beginning of February, our style, when we set out
from Pekin. My partner and the old pilot had gone express back
to the port where we had first put in, to dispose of some goods
which we had left there; and I, with a Chinese merchant, whom
I had some knowledge of at Nankin, and who came to Pekin on
his own affairs, went to Nankin, where J bought ninety pieces of
fine damasks, with about two hundred pieces of other very fine
silks, of several sorts, some mixed with gold, and had all these
brought to Pekin against my partner’s return. Besides this, we
bought a very large quantity of raw silk, and some other goods;
our cargo amounting in these goods only to about three thousand
five hundred pounds sterling; which, together with tea and some
fine calicoes, and three camel-loads vf nutmegs and cloves, loaded
in all eighteen camels for our share, besides those we rode upon,
which, with two or three spare horses, and two horses loaded with
provisions, made us, in short, twenty-six camels and horses in our
retinue.

The company was very great, and, as near as I can remember,
made between three and four hundred horse, and upwards of a
hundred and twenty men, very well armed, and provided for all
events. For as the Hastern caravans are subject to be attacked
by the Arabs, so are these by the ‘lartars. But they are not al-
together so dangerous as the Arabs, nor so barbarous when they
prevail.

The company consisted of people of several nations, such as
Muscovites chiefly ; for there were above sixty of them who were
merchants or inhabitants of Moscow, though of them some were
Livonians, and, to our particular satisfaction, five of them were
Scots, who appeared also to be men of great experience in busi-
ness, and men of very good substance.

When we had travelled one day’s journey, the guides, who were
five in number, called all the gentlemen and merchants, that is
tosay, all the passengers, except the servants, to a great council,
as they called it. At this great council every one deposited a
certain quantity of money to a common stock, for the necessary
684 THE GREATEST RARITY IN CHINA.

 

“VERY WELL AKMED, AND PROVIDED FOR ALL BVENTS.”

expense of buying forage on the way, where it was not otherwise
to be had, and for satisfying the guides, getting horses, and the
like. And here they constituted the journey, as they call it;
namely, they named captains and officers to draw us all up, and
give the command in case of an attack, and gave every one their
turn of command. Nor was this forming us into order any more
than what we found needful upon the way, as shall be observed
in its place.

The road all on this side of the country is very popluous, and
is full of potters and earthmakers; that is to say, people that
temper the earth for the China ware. And as I was coming
along, our Portugal pilot, who had always something or other to say
to make us merry, came sneering to me, and told me he would show
me the greatest rarity in all the country, and that I should have
this to say of China, after all the ill-humoured things I had said
of it. that I had seen one thing which was not to be seen in all
A CHINA WAREHOUSE. 685

the world beside. I was very importunate to know what it was.
At last he told me it was a gentleman’s house built all with China
ware. “ Well,” says I, “are not the materials of their building
the product of their own country; and so is all China ware, is it
not?” ‘No, no,” says he; “ I mean it is an house all made of
China ware, such as you call it in England; or, as it is called in
our country, porcelain.” ‘ Well,” says I, “ such a thing may be.
How big is it? Can we carry it in a box upon a camel? If
we can, we will buy it.” ‘ Upon a camel!” says the old pilot,
holding up both his hands; ‘why, there is a family of thirty
people in it.”

Twas then curious indeed to see it; and when I came to it, it
was nothing but this: it was a timber house, or a house built, as
we call it in England, with lath and plaster, but all the plastering
was really China ware; that is to say, it was plastered with the
earth that makes China ware.

The outside, which the sun shone hot upon, was glazed, and
looked very well, perfectly white, and painted with blue figures, as
the large China ware in England is painted, and hard, as if it had
been burned. As to the inside, all the walls, instead of wainscot,
were lined up with hardened and painted tiles, like the little square
tiles we call galley-tiles in Hngland, all made of the finest China ;
and the figures exceeding fine indeed, with extraordinary variety
of colours mixed with gold, many tiles making but one figure,
but joined so artificially, the mortar being made of the same earth,
that it was very hard to see where the tiles met. ‘The floors of
the room were of the same composition, and as hard as the
earthern floors we have in use in several parts of England,
especially Lincolnshire, Nottinghamshire, Leicestershire, &c., as
hard as a stone, and smooth, but not burned and painted, except
some smaller rooms, like closets, which were all, as it were, paved
with the same tile. The ceiling and, in a word, all the plastering
work in the whole house were of the same earth; and after all, the
roof was covered with tiles of the same, but of a deep shining
black.

This was a China warehouse indeed, truly and literally to be
culled so; and had I not been upon the journey, I could have
586 THE GREAT CHINA WALL.

stayed some days to see and examine the particulars of it. They
told me there were fountains and fish-ponds in the garden, all paved
at the bottom and sides with the same, and fine statues set up in
rows on the walks, entirely formed of the porcelain earth, and
burned whole.

As this is one of the singularities of China, so they may be
allowed to excel in it; but I am very sure they excel in their
accounts of it; for they told me such incredible things of their
performance in crockery ware, for such it is, that I care not to
relate, as knowing it could not be true. They told me, in par-
ticular, of one workman that made a ship with all its tackle, and
masts, and sails, in earthenware, big enough to carry fifty men. If
he had told me he launched it, and made a voyage to Japan in it,
T might have said something to it indeed; but as it was, I knew
the whole of the story, which was, in short, asking pardon for the
word, that the fellow lied. So T smiled, and said nothing to it.

This odd sight kept me two hours behind the caravan, for which
the leader of it for the day fined me about the value of three
shillings, and told me, if it had been three days’ journey without
the wall, as it was three days within, he must have fined me four
times as much, and made me ask pardon the next council day. So
I promised to be more orderly; for, indeed, I found afterwards the
orders made for keeping all together were absolutely necessary for
our common safety.

In two days more we passed the great China wall, made for a
fortification against the Tartars ; and a very great work it is, going
over hills and mountains in a needless track, where the rocks are
impassable, and the precipices such as no enemy could possibly
enter, or indeed climb up, or where, if they did, no wall could hinder
them. They tell us, its length is near a thousand English miles,
but that the country is five hundred in a straight measured line,
which the wall bounds, without measuring the windings and turn-
ings it takes. "Tis about four fathom high, and as many thick
in some places.

I stood still an hour or thereabout, without trespassing our
orders, for so long the caravan was in passing the gate; I say,
T stood still an hour to look at it on every side, near and far off;
ITS COMPARATIVE USELESSNESS, 687

[ mean, that was within my view. And the guide of our caravan,
who had been extolling it for the wonder of the world, was mighty
eager to hear my opinion of it. I told him it was a most excel
lent thing to keep off the Tartars; which he happened not to
anderstand as I meant it, and so took it for a compliment. But
the old pilot laughed. “ O Seignior Inglese,” says he, “ you speak
in colours.” “In colours,” said I; “what do you mean by
that?” ‘Why, you speak what looks white this way, and black
that way; gay one way, and dull another way. You tell him it is
w good wall to keep out Tartars. You tell me by that, it is good
for nothing but to keep out Tartars, or it will keep out none
but Tartars. I understand you, Seignior Inglese, I understand
you,” says he; “but Seignior Chinese understood you his own
way.”

“ Well,” says I, “ seignior, do you think it would stand out an
army of our country people, with a good train of artillery; or our
engineers, with two companies of miners; would not they batter
it down in ten days, that an army might enter in battalia, or blow
it up in the air, foundation and all, that there should be no sign
of it left?” ‘Ah, ah,” says he, “I know that.” The Chinese
wanted mightily to know what I said, and I gave him leave to
tell him a few days after, for he was then almost out of their
country, and he was to leave us in a little time afterward; but
when he knew what I had said, he was dumb all the rest of the
way, and we heard no more of his fine story of the Chinese power
and greatness, while he stayed.

Atter we had passed this mighty nothing called a wall, some-
thing like the Picts’ wall, and so famous in Northumberland, and
built by the Romans, we began to find the country thinly in-
habited, and the people rather confined to live in fortified towns
and cities, as being subject to the inroads and depredations of the
Tartars, who rob in great armies, and therefore are not to be
resisted by the naked inhabitants of an open country.

And here I began to find the necessity of keeping together in a
caravan as we travelled, for we saw several troops of Tartars roving
about; but when I came to see them distinctly, I wondered more
that the Chinese empire could be conquered by such contemptible
688 A SKIRMISH WITH TARTARS.

fellows; for they are a mere horde or crowd of wild fellows. keep-
ing no order, and understanding no discipline or manner of fight.

Their horses are poor, lean, starved creatures, taucht nothing,
and fit for nothing; and this we said the first day we saw them,
which was after we entered the wilder part of the country. Our
leader for the day gave leave for about sixteen of us to go a-hunt-
ing, as they call it; and what was this, but hunting of sheep. How-
ever, it may be called hunting too; for the creatures are the
wildest and swiftest of foot that ever I saw of their kind. Only
they will not run a great way, and you are sure of sport when you
begin the chase; for they appear generally thirty or forty in a
flock, and, like true sheep, always keep together when they fly.

In pursuit of this odd sort of game it was our hap to meet with
about forty Tartars. Whether they were hunting mutton as we
were, or whether they looked for another kind of prey, I know
not; but as soon as they saw us, one of them blew a kind of horn
very loud, but with a barbarous sound, that T had never heard be-
fore, and, by the way, never care to hear again. We all supposed
this was to call their friends about them, and so it was; for in less
than half a quarter of an hour a troop of forty or fifty more ap-
peared at about a mile distance; but our work was over first, as it
happened.

One of the Scots merchants of Moscow happened to be amongst
us, and as soon as he heard the horn he told us, in short, that we
had nothing to do but to charge them immediately without loss of
time; and drawing us up ina line, he asked if we were resolved ?
We told him we were ready to follow him; so he rode directly up
to them. They stood gazing at us like a mere crowd, drawn up
in no order, nor showing the face of any order at all; but as soon
as they saw us advance, they let fly their arrows, which however
missed us very happily. It seems they mistook not their aim, but
their distance; for their arrows all fell a little short of us, but with
so true an aim, that had we been about twenty yards nearer, we
must have had several men wounded, if not killed.

Immediately we halted; and though it was at a great distance,
we fired, and sent them leaden bullets for wooden arrows, following
our shot full gallop, to fall in among them sword in hand, for so
IN THE GREAT KARAKATHIE. 685

our bold Scot that led us directed. He was indeed but a merchant,
but he behaved with that vigour and bravery on this occasion, and
yet with such a cool courage too, that I never saw any man in
action fitter for command. As soon as we came up to them we
fired our pistols in their faces, and then drew, but they fled in the
greatest confusion imaginable. The only stand any of them made
was on our right, where three of them stood, and by signs called
the rest to come back to them, having a kind of scimitar in their
hands, and their bows hanging at their backs. Our brave com-
mander, without asking anybody to follow him, gallops up close to
them, and with his fuzee knocks one of them off his horse, killed
the second with his pistol, and the third ran away; and thus ended
our fight. But we had this misfortune attending it, namely, that
all our mutton that we had in chase got away. We had not a man
killed or hurt; but as for the Tartars, there was about five of them
killed. Who were wounded, we knew not; but this we knew, that
the other party was so frightened with the noise of our guns that
they made off, and never made any attempt upon us.

We were all this while in the Chinese dominion, and therefore
the Tartars were not so bold as afterwards; but in ahout five days
we entered a vast great wild desert, which held us three days’
and nights’ march; and we were obliged to carry our water with
us in great leathern bottles, and to encamp all night, just as I have
heard they do in the desert of Arabia.

I asked whose dominion this was in, and they told me this was
a kind of border, that might be called No Man’s Land; being a part
of the Great Karakathie, or Grand Tartary, but that, however, it
was all reckoned to China; but that there was no care taken here
to preserve it from the inroads of thieves, and therefore it was
reckoned the worst desert in the whole world—though we were to
zo over some much larger.

In passing this wilderness, which I confess was at the first very
frightful to me, we saw two or three times little parties of the
Tartars, but they seemed to be upon their own affairs, and to have
no design upon us; and so, like the man who met the devil, if
they had nothing to say to us, we had nothing to say to them; we
let them go. °
630 BUYING A CAMEL,

Once, however, a party of them came so near as to stand and
gaze at us; whether it was to consider what they should do,
whether attack us, or not attack us, that we knew not; but when
we were passed at some distance by them, we made a rear-guard
of forty men, and stood ready for them, letting the caravan pass
half a mile, or thereabouts, before us. But after a while they
marched off, only we found they saluted us with five arrows at their
parting, one of which wounded a horse so that it disabled him ;
and we left him the next day, poor creature, in great need of a
good farrier. We suppose they might shoot more arrows, which
might fall short of us; but we saw no more arrows or Tartars
that time.

We travelled near a month after this, the ways being not so bad
as at first, though still in the dominions of the Emperor of China,
but lay for the most part in villages, some of which were fortified,
beeause of the incursions of the Tartars. When we came to one
of these towns (it was about two and a half days’ journey before we
were to come to the city Naum), I wanted to buy a camel, of which
there are plenty to be sold all the way upon that road, and of
horses also, such as they are, because, so many caravans coming
that way, they are often wanted. The person that I spoke to to
get me a camel would have gone and fetched it for me, but I, like
a fool, must be officious, and go myself along with him. The
place was about two miles out of the village, where, it seems, they
kept the camels and horses feeding under a guard,

[ walked it on foot with my old pilot, being very desirous, for-
sooth, of a little variety. When we came to the place, it was a low
marshy ground, walled round with a stone wall, piled up dry,
without mortar or earth among it, like a park, with a little guard
of Chinese soldiers at the door. Having bought a camel, and
agreed for the price, [ came away, and the Chinese man that went
with me led the camel; when on a sudden came up five Tartars
on horseback: two of them seized the fellow, and took the camel
from him, while the other three stepped up to me and my old
pilot, seeing us, as it were, unarmed; for I had no weapon about
me but my sword, which could but ill defend me against three
horsemen. The first that came up stopped short upon my draw-
AN UNFORTUNATE PURCHASE, 69)

ing my sword (for they are arrant cowards); but a second, coming
upon my left, gave me a blow on the head, which I never felt till
afterward, and wondered, when I came to myself, what was the
matter with me, and where I was, for he laid me flat on the
ground. But my never-failing old pilot, the Portuguese (so Pro-
vidence, unlooked-for, directs deliverances from dangers, which to
us are unforeseen), had a pistol in his pocket, which I knew nothing
of, nor the ‘Tartars either: if they had, I suppose they would
not have attacked us; but cowards are always boldest when there
is no danger,

The old man, seeing me down, with a bold heart stepped up to
the fellow that had struck me, and laid hold of his arm with one
hand, and pulling him down by main force a little towards him
with the other, shot him into the head, and laid him dead upon
the spot; he then immediately stepped up to him who had
stopped us, as I said, and before he could come forward again (for
it was all done, as it were, in a moment), made a blow at him with
a scimitar which he always wore, but, missing the man, cut his
horse into the side of his head, cut one of his ears off by the root,
and a great slice down the side of his face. The poor beast, en-
raged with the wound, was no more to be governed by his rider,
though the fellow sat well enough too, but away he flew, and
carried him quite out of the pilot's reach; and, at some distance,
rising up upon his hind-legs, threw down the Tartar, and fell upon
him.

In this interval the poor Chinese came in who had lost the
camel, but he had no weapon; however, seeing the Tartar down,
and his horse fallen upon him, away he runs to him, and seizing
upon an ugly, ill-favoured weapon he had by his side, something
like a pole-axe, but not a pole-axe either, he wrenched it from
him, and made shift to knock his Tartarian brains out with it.
But my old man had the third Tartar to deal with still; and,
seeing he did not fly as he expected, nor come on to fight him as
he apprehended, but stand stock still, the old man stood still too,
and falls to work with his tackle to charge his pistol again; but
as soon as the Tartar saw the pistol, whether he supposed it to
be the same or another I know not, but away he scoured, and

(284) 38
592 BEFORE A CHINESE MAGISTRATE,

Jeft my pilot, my champion T called him afterward, a complete
vietory.

By this time T was a little awake; for I thought, when first I
began to wake, that I had been in a sweet sleep; but, as T said
above, I wondered where I was, how I came upon the ground, and
what was the matter: in a word, a few moments after, as sense
returned, I felt pain, though T did not know where; I clapped my
hand to my head, and took it away bloody; then I felt my head
ache, and then, in another moment, memory returned, and every-
thing was present to me again.

1 jumped up upon my fect instantly, and got hold of my sword,
but no enemies were in view. T found a Tartar lie dead, and his
horse standing very quietly by him; and, looking farther, T saw my
champion and deliverer, who had been to see what the Chinese had
done, coming back with his hanger in his hand. ‘The old man,
secing me on my feet, came running to me, and embraced ime with
a great deal of joy, being afraid before that I had been killed, and,
seeing me bloody, would see how Twas hurt; but it was not much,
only what we call a broken head; neither did T afterwards find
any great inconvenience from the blow, other than the place which
was hurt, and was well again in two or three days.

We made no great gain, however, by this victory ; for we lost a
camel, and gained a horse: but that which was remarkable, when
we caine back to the village, the man demanded to be paid for the
camel. I disputed it, and it was brought to a heaving before the
Chinese judge of the place; that is to say, in Hnglish, we went
before a justice of the peace. Give him his due, he acted with a
great deal of prudence and impartiality; and having heard both
sides, he gravely asked the Chinese man that went with me to buy
the camel, whose servant he was? “T am no servant,” said he,
“but went with the stranger.” ‘At whose request?” says the
justice. “ At the stranger’s request,” says he. ‘ Why, then,”
says the justice, “you were the stranger’s servant for the time;
and the camel being delivered to his servant, it was delivered te
him, and he must pay for it.”

I confess the thing was so clear, that I had not a word to say ;
but admiring to see such just reasoning upon the consequence,
A FORMIDABLE ESCORT, 698

and so accurate stating the cause, I paid willingly for the camel,
and sent for another, But you may observe, I sent for it; I did
not go and fetch it myself any more; I had enough of that.

The city of Naum is a frontier of the Chinese empire: they call
it fortified, and so it is, as fortifications go there; for this I will
venture to affirm, that all the Tartars in Karakathie, which, I be-
lieve, are some millions, could not batter down the walls with their
bows and arrows; but to call it strong, if it were attacked with
cannon, would be to make those who understand it laugh at you.

We wanted, as I have said, about two days’ journey of this city,
when messengers were sent express to every part of the road, to tell
all travellers and caravans to halt, till they had a guard sent for
them; for that an unusual body of Tartars, making ten thousand
inall, had appeared in the way, about thirty miles beyond the city.

This was very bad news to travellers: however, it was carefully
done of the governor, and we were very glad to hear we should
have a guard. Accordingly, two days after, we had two hundred
soldiers sent us from a garrison of the Chinese on our left, and
three hundred more from the city of Naum, and with those we
advanced boldly ; the three hundred soldiers from Naum marched
in our front, the two hundred in our rear, and our men on each
side of our camels with our baggage, and the whole caravan in the
centre. In this order, and well prepared for battle, we thought
ourselves a match for the whole ten thousand Mogul Tartars, it
they had appeared; but the next day, when they did appear, it
was quite another thing.

It was early in the morning, when, marching from a little well-
situated town, called Changu, we had a river to pass, where we
were obliged to ferry: and had the Tartars had any intelligence,
then had been the time to have attacked us, when, the caravan
being over, the rear-guard was behind: but they did not appear.

About three hours after, when we were entered upon a desert of
about fifteen or sixteen miles over, behold, by a cloud of dust they
raised, we saw an enemy was at hand; and they were at hand in-
deed, for they came on upon the spur.

The Chinese, our guard on the front, who had talked so big the
day before, began to stagger, and the soldiers frequently looked
Hod AN ADVANCE AND A RETREAT,

oehind them, which is a certain sign in a soldier that he is just
ready to runaway. My old pilot was of my mind; and being near
me, he called out: “ Seignior Tnglese,” says he, “ those fellows
must be encouraged, or they will ruin us all; for if the 'Tartars
come on, they will never stand it.” * Tam of your mind,” said T;
“but what course must be done? © Done?” says he; “let fifty
of our men advance, and flank them on each wing, and encourage
them, and they will fight like brave fellows in brave company ; but
without, they will every man turn his back.’ Tnmediately [rode
up to our leader, and told him, who was exactly of our mind; and
accordingly, fifty of us marched to the right wing, and fifty to the
left, and the rest made a line of reserve; and so we marched,
leaving the last two hundred men to make another body by them-
selves, and to guard the camels; only that, if need were, they
should send a hundred men to assist tho last fifty.

Ina word, the Tartars came on, and an innumerable company
they were; how many we could not tell, but ten thousand, we
thought, was the least. A party of them came on first, and viewed
our posture, traversing the ground in front of our line; and as we
found them within gun-shot, our leader ordered the two wings: to
advance swiffly, and give them a salvo on each wing with their
shot, which was done; but they went off, and, L suppose, back to
give an account of the reception they were like to meet with: and,
indeed, that salute clogged their stomach, for they immediately
halted, stood a while to consider of it, and, wheeling off to the left,
they gave over the design, and said no more to us for that time;
which was very agrecable to our circumstances, which were but
very indifferent fora battle with such a number,

‘Two days after this, we came to the city Naun, or Naum. We
thanked the governor for his care for us, and collected to the
value of a hundred crowns, or thereabouts, which we gave to the
soldiers sent to guard us; and here wo rested one day. This is a
gurrison, indeed, and there were nine hundred soldiers kept here;
but tho reason of it was, that formerly the Muscovite frontiers lay
nearer to them than they do now, the Muscovites having aban-
doned that part of the country Qvhich lies [rom this city west, for
about two hundred miles) as desolate and unfit for use; and more
IN A CHRISTIAN COUNTRY, 686

especially, being so very remote, and so difficult to send treo}
thither for its defence; for we had yet above two thousand miles
to Muscovy, properly so called.

After this, we passed several great rivers, and two dreadful
deserts, one of which we were sixteen days passing over, and which,
as I said, was to be culled No Man’s Land; and on the 18th of
April we came to the frontiers of the Muscovite dominions. I
think the first city, or town, or fortress, whatever it might be
called, that belonged to the Ozar of Muscovy, was. called Argun,
being on the west side of the river Argun.

IT could not but discover an infinite satisfaction that I was soon
arrived in, as T called it, a Christian country, or at least in a country
governed by Christians; for though the Muscovites do, in my
opinion, but just deserve the name of Christians, yet such they
pretend to be, and are very devout in their way. It would cer-
tainly oceur to any man who travels in the world as I have done,
and who had any power of reflection—I say, it would occur to him
to reflect what a blessing it is to be brought into the world where
the name of God and of a Redeemer is known, worshipped, and
adored; and not where the people, given up by Heaven to strong
delusions, worship the devil, and prostrate themselves to stocks and
stones, worship monsters, elements, horribly shaped animals, and
statues, or images of monsters. Not a town or city we passed
through but had their pagods, their idols, and their temples, aid
ignorant people worshipping even the works of their own hands.

Now we came where, at least, a face of the Christian worship
appeared, where the knee was bowed to Jesus; and whether igno-
rantly or not, yet the Christian religion was owned, and the name
of the true God was called upon and adored; and it made the very
recesses of my soul rejoice to see it. I saluted the brave Scots
merchant I mentioned above, with my first acknowledgment of this;
and taking him by the hand, I said to him, “ Blessed be God, we
ure once again come among Christians !’’ He smiled, and answered,
* Do not rejoice too soon, countryman; these Muscovites are but
an odd sort of Christians; and but for the name of it, you may
see very little of the substance for some months further of our
journey.”
696 THE GREAT RIVER YAMOUR.

“Well,” says [, “but still it is better than paganism and wor-
shipping of devils.” “ Why, Dll tell you,” says he; “except the
Russian soldiers in garrisons, and a few of the inhabitants of the
cities upon the road, all the rest of this country, for above a thou-
sand miles further, is inhabited by the worst and most ignorant of
pagans.” And so, indeed, we found it.

We were now launched into the greatest piece of solid earth, if
[ understand anything of the surface of the globe, that is to be
found in any part of the earth: we had at least twelve hundred
miles to the sea, eastward; we had at least two thousand to the
bottom of the Baltie Sea, westward; and above three thousand
miles, if we left that sea and went on west to the British and
French Channels; we had full five thousand miles to the Indian,
or Persian Sea, south; and about eight hundred miles to the Frozen
Sea, north; nay, if some people may be believed, there might be
no sea north-east till we came round the Pole, and consequently
into the north-west, and so had a continent of land into America,
the Lord knows where; though T could give some reasons why I
believe that to be a mistake.

As we entered into the Muscovite dominions, a good while before
we come to any considerable towns, we had nothing to observe there
but this: first, that all the rivers that run to the east, as I under-
stood by the charts which some in our caravan had with them, it
was plain, all those rivers ran into the great river Yamour, or Gain-
mour. This river, by the natural course of it, must run into the
Hast Sea, or Chinese Ocean. The story they tell us, that the
mouth of this river is choked up with bulrushes of a monstrous
growth, namely, three feet about, and twenty or thirty feet high,
I must be allowed to say I believe nothing of; but as its naviga-
tion is of no use, because there is no trade that way—the Tartars,
to whom alone it belongs, dealing in nothing but cattle—so nobody,
that ever I heard of, has been curious enough either to go down to
the mouth of it in boats, or come up from the mouth of it in ships;
but this is certain, that this river running due east, in the latitude
of about fifty degrees, carries a vast concourse of rivers along with
it, and finds an ocean to einpty itself in that latitude ; so we are
sure of sea there.
TRAVELLING IN MUSCOVY. 691

Some leagues to the north of this river there are several consider-
able rivers, whose streams run as due north as the Yamour runs
east; and these are all found to join their waters with the great
river Tartarus, named so from the northernmost nations of the
Mongul Tartars, who, the Chinese say, were the first Tartars in
the world; and who, as our geographers allege, are the Gog and
Magog mentioned in sacred story.

These rivers running all northward, as well as all the other rivers
I am yet to speak of, make it evident that the Northern Ocean
bounds the land also on that side; so that it does not seem rational
in the least to think that the land can extend itself to join with
America on that side, or that there is not a communication between
the Northern and the Kastern Ocean. But of this I shall say no
more; it was my observation at that time, and therefore I take
notice of it in this place. We now advanced from the river
Arguna by easy and moderate journeys, and were very visibly
obliged to the care the Czar of Muscovy has taken to have cities
and towns built in as many places as are possible to place them,
where his soldiers keep garrison, something like the stationary
soldiers placed by the Romans in the remotest countries of their
empire, some of which I had read particularly were placed in
Britain for the security of commerce, and for the lodging travellers;
and thus it was here; for wherever we came, though at these towns
and stations the garrisons and governor were Russians and pro-
fessed Christians, yet the inhabitants of the country were mere
pagans, sacrificing to idols, and worshipping the sun, moon, and
stars, or all the host of heaven: and not only so, but were, of al]
the heathens and pagans that ever I met with, the most barbarous,
except only that they did not eat man’s flesh, as our savages of
America did.

Some instances of this we met with in the country between
Arguna, where we enter the Muscovite dominions, and a city of
Tartars and Russians together, called Norstinskoy ; in which is a
continued desert or forest, which cose us twenty days to travel over
it. In a village near the last of those places, I had the curiosity
to go and see their way of living, which is most brutish and un-
sufferable. They had, I suppose, a great sacrifice that day; for
598 A TARTAR IDOL,

there stood out upon an old stump of a tree, an idol made of wood
frightful as the devil, at least as anything we can think of to
represent the devil can be made. It had a head certainly not so
much as resembling any creature that the world ever saw; ears as
big as goats’ horns, and as high; eyes as big as a crown-piece; a
nose like a crooked ran’s horn; and a mouth extended four cor-
nered like that of a lion, with horrible teeth, hooked like a parrot’:
under bill, Tt was dressed up in the filthiest manner that you
could: suppose; its upper garment was of sheep-skins, with the
wool outward, a great Tartar bonnet on the head, with two horns
growing through it; it was about eight feet high, yet had no feet
or legs, or any other proportion of parts.

This scarecrow was set up at the outer side of the village, and
when T came near to it, there were sixteen or seventeen creatures,
whether men or women T could not. tell, for they make no. dis-
tinction by their habits, either of body or head. These lay all
flat on the ground, round this formidable block of shapeless wood.
T saw no motion among them any more than if they had been
logs of wood like the idol, and at first really thought they had
been so; but when T came a little nearer, they started up upon
their feet, and raised a howling cry, as if it had been so many deep-
mouthed hounds, and walked away as if they were displeased at
our disturbing them. A little way off from the idol, and at the
door of that tent or hut, made all of sheep-skins and cow-skins,
dried, stood three butchers; IT thought they were such; when T
came nearer to them, I found they had long knives in their hands,
and in the middle of the tent appeared three sheep killed, and one
young bullock or steer. These, it seems, were sacrifices to that
senseless log of an idol, and these three men priests belonging to
it; and the seventeen prostrated wretches were the people who
brought the offering, and were making their prayers to that stock.

I confess I was more moved at their stupidity and brutish wor-
ship of a hobgoblin, than ever I was at anything in my life; to
see God’s most glorious and best creature, to whom he had granted
so many advantages, even by creation, above the rest of the works
of his hands, vested with a reasonable soul, and that soul adorned
with faculties and capacities adapted both to honour his Maker and ’
CRUSOE AN ICONOCLAST. 698

be honoured by him, sunk and degenerated to a degree so more
than stupid, as to prostrate itself to a frightful Nothing, a mere
imaginary Object dressed up by themselves, and made terrible to
themselves by their own contrivance; adorned only with clouts
and rags; and that this should be the effect of mere ignorance,
wrought up into hellish devotion by the devil himself, who, envy-
ing to his Maker the homage and adoration of his creatures, had
deluded them into such gross, surfeiting, sordid, and brutish things,
as one would think would shock Nature itself.

But what signified all the astonishment and reflection of thoughts?
Thus it was, and I saw it before my eyes, and there was no room
to wonder at it, or think it impossible. All my admiration turned
to rage, and I rode up to the image or monster, call it what you
will, and with my sword cut the bonnet that was on its head in
two in the middle, so that it hung down by one of the horns; and
one of our men that was with me took hold of the sheep-skin that
covered it, and pulled at it, when, behold, a most hideous outery
and howling run through the village, and two or three hundred
people came about my ears, so that I was glad to scour for it, for
we saw some had bows and arrows. But T resolved from that
moment to visit them again,

Our caravan rested three nights at the town, which was about
four miles off, in order to provide some horses which they wanted,
several of the horses having been lamed and jaded with the badness
of the way and long march over the last desert ; so we had some
leisure here to pu my design in execution. I communicated my
project to the Scots merchant of Moscow, of whose courage I had
had suflicient testimony, as above. I told him what I had seen,
and with what indignation I had since thought that human nature
could be so degenerate. 1 told him I was resolved, if I could but
vet four or five men well armed to go with me, I was resolved to
go and destroy that vile abominable idol, and let them see that it
had no power to help itself, and consequently could not be an object
of worship, or to be prayed to, much Jess help them that offered
sacrifices to it.

He laughed at me. Says he, ‘‘ Your zeal may be good, but
what do you propose to yourself by it?’ ‘“ Propose!” said T, “ to

 

 
600 A GOOD DESIGN.

vindicate the honour of God, which is insulted by this devil
worship.” “ But how will it vindicate the honour of God ?” said
he; “while the people will not be able to know what you mean by
it, unless you could speak to them and tell them so, and then they
will fight you, and beat you too, I'll assure you; for they are
desperate fellows, and that especially in defence of their idolatry.”
“Can we not,” said I, “do it in the night, and then leave them
the reasons and causes in writing in their own language ?’” “ Writ-
ing!” said he; ‘why, there is not a man in five nations of them
that knows anything of a letter, or how to read a word in any
language, or in their own.” “ Wretched, ignorant!” said TI to
him; “however, I have a great mind to do it. Perhaps Nature
may draw inferences from it to them, to let them see how brutish
they are to worship such horrid things.” “Look you, sir,” said
he: “if your zeal prompts you to it so warmly, you must do it;
but, in the next place, IT would have you consider, these wild
nations of people are subjected by force to the Czar of Muscovy’s
dominions ; and if you do this, ’tis ten to one but they will come
by thousands to the Governor of Nortsinskoy, and complain, and
demand satisfaction; and if he cannot give them satisfaction, ’tis
ten to one but they revolt, and will occasion a new war with all
the Tartars in the country.”

This, [ confess, put new thoughts into my head for a while ;
but Tharped upon the same string still, and all that day I was
uneasy to put my project in execution. Towards the evening, the
Scots merchant met me by accident in our walk about the town,
and desired to speak with me. “T believe,” said he. “I have put
you off of your good design. I have been a little concerned about
it since, for I abhor the idol and the idolatry as much as you can
do.” “ Truly,” says I, “you have put it off a little as to the
execution of it, but you have not put it all out of my thoughts ;
and I believe I shall do it still before I quit this place, though I
were to be delivered up to them for satisfaction.” ‘‘ No, no,” says
he; “God forbid they should deliver you up to such a crew of
monsters. They shall not do that neither: that would be mur-
dering you indeed.” ‘Why,’ says I, “how would they use
rae?” “Use you!” says he; “Tl tell you how they served a
PLANNING THE DETAILS. 601

poor Russian, who affronted them in their worship just as you did,
and whom they took prisoner. After they had lamed him with an
arrow that he could not run away, they took him and stripped him
stark naked, and set him up on the top of the idol monster, and
stood all round him, and shot as many arrows into him as would
stick over his whole body, and then they burned him, and all the
arrows sticking in him, as a sacrifice to the idol.” ‘ And was
this the same idol?” “ Yes,” says he, “the very same.” ‘ Well,”
says J, “Tl tell you a story.” So I related the story of our
men at Madagascar, and how they burned and sacked the village
there, and killed man, woman, and child, for their murdering one
of our men, just as it is related before; and when I had done, I
added, that I thought we ought to do so to this village.

He listened very attentively to the story ; ,but when I talked of
doing so to that village, says he, ‘‘ You mistake very much. It
was not this village: it was almost a hundred miles from this
place; but it was the same idol, for they carry him about in pro-
cession all over the country.” ‘“ Well, then,” says I, “ then that
idol ought to be punished for it; and it shall,” says I, “if I live
this night out.”

In a word, finding me resolute, he liked the design, and told me
I should not go alone, but he would go with me, and bring a stout
fellow, one of his countrymen, to go also with us; ‘and one,”
says he, ‘‘as famous for his zeal as you can desire any one to be,
against such devilish things as these.” In a word, he brought me
his comrade, a Scotsman, whom he called Captain Richardson, and
I gave him a full account of what I had seen, and, in a word, of
what I intended; and he told me readily he would go with me if
it cost him his life: so we agreed to go only us three. I had,
indeed, proposed it to my partner, but he declined it. He said he
was ready to assist me to the utmost, and upon all occasions, for
my defence, but that this was an adventure quite out of his way.
So, I say, we resolved upon our work, only us three and my man-
servant, and to put it in execution that night about midnight,
with all the secrecy imaginable.

However, upon second thoughts, we were willing to delay it
till the next night, because the caravan being to set forward in the
602 BINDING TILE PRIESTS,

morning, We supposed the governor could not pretend to give them
any satisfaction upon us, when we were out of his power, The
Scots merchant, as steady in his resolution for the enterprise ax
bold in executing, brought mea ‘Tartar’s robe or gown of the
sheep-skins, and a bonnet, with a bow and arrows, and had pro-
vided the same for himself and his countryman, that the people, if
they saw us, should not be able to determine who we were.

All the first night we spent in mixing up some combustible
matter with aqua vite, gunpowder, and such other materials as we
could get; and having a good quantity of tar ina little pot, about
an hour after night we set out upon our expedition,

We came to the place about eleven o'clock at night, and found
that the people had not the least jealousy of danger attending their
idol, The night was cloudy, yet the moon gave us light enough
to see that the idol stood just in the same posture and place that
it did before. The people seemed to be all at their rest, only that
in the great hut, or tent, as we called it, where we saw the three
priests, Whom we mistook for butchers, we saw a light, and going
up close to the door, we heard people talking as if there were five
or six of them. We concluded, therefore, that if we set the wild-
fire to the idol, these men would come out immediately, and run
up to the place to rescue it from the destruction that we intended
for it; and what to do with them we knew not. Once we thought
of carrying it away, and setting fire to it at a distance ; but when
we came to handle it, we found it too bulky for our carriage, so
we were ata loss again. ‘The second Scotsman was for setting
fire to the tent or hut, and knocking the creatures that were there
on the head when they came out; but TE eould not join with that.
T was against killing them, if it was possible to be avoided.
“Well, then,” said the Scots merchant, “Tl tell you what we
will do: we will try to take them prisoners, tie their hands behind
them, and make them stand still and see their idol destroyed.”

As it happened, we had twine or packthread enough about us,
which was used to tie our fireworks together with; so we re-
solved to attack the people first, and with as little noise as we
could, The first thing we did, we knocked at the door, which
insued just as we desired it; for one of their idol priests came to
BURNING ‘THE IDOL, 608

the door, We immediately seized upon him, stopped his mouth,
and tied his hands behind him, and led him to the idol, where we
gagged him that he might not make a noise, tied his feet also
together, and left him on the ground,

Two of us then waited at the door, expecting that another
would come out to see what the matter was; but we waited so
long till the third man came back to us, and then nobody coming
out, we knocked again gently, and immediately out came two
more, and we served them just in the same manner, but were
obliged to go all with them, and lay them down by the idol, some
distance from one another. When going back, we found two more
wore come out to the door, and a third stood between them within
the door. We seized the two, and immediately tied them, when
the third stepping back, and crying out, my Scots merchant went
in after him, and taking out a composition we had made, that
would only smoke and stink, he set fire to it, and threw it in
among them, By that time the other Scotsman and my man,
taking charge of the two men who were already bound, and tied
together also by the arm, led them away to the idol, and left
them there, to see if their idol would relieve them, making haste
back to us.

When the fuze we had thrown in had filled the hut with so
much smoke that they were almost suffocated, we then threw ina
small leather bag of another kind, which flamed like a candle, and
following it in, we found there were but four people left, who, it
seems, were two men and two women, and, as we supposed, had
been about some of their diabolic sacrifices. They appeared, in
short, frighted to death, at least so as to sit trembling and stupid,
and not able to speak either, for the smoke.

In a word, we took them, bound them as we had the others, and
all without any noise. I should have said, we brought them out
of the house or hut first; for, indeed, we were not able to bear the
smoke any more than they were. When we had done this, we
carried them all together to the idol. When we came there, we
fell to work with him. And, first, we daubed him all over, and
his robes also, with tar and such other stuff as we had, which was
tallow mixed with brimstone; then we stopped his eyes, ears,
604 DESTRUCTION OF CHAM-CIIN-THAUNQGU,

and mouth full of gunpowder; and then we wrapped up a great
piece of wild-fire in his bonnet; and then, sticking all the com-
hustibles we had brought with us upon him, we looked about to
see if we could find anything else to help to burn him, when my
man remembered that by the tent or hut where the men were
there lay a heap of dry forage, whether straw or rushes I do not
remember, Away he and one of the Scotsmen ran, and fetched
their arms full of that. When we had done this, we took all our
prisoners, and brought them, having untied their feet and un-
gagged their mouths, and made them stand up, and set them just
before their monstrous idol, and then set fire to the whole.

We stayed by it a quarter of an hour, or thereabouts, till the
powder in the eyes, and mouth, and ears of the idol blew up, and,
we could perceive, had split and deformed the shape; and, in a
word, till we saw it burn into a mere block or log of wood: and
then, setting the dry forage to it, we found it would be quite
consumed, when we began to think of going away. But the
Scotsman said, No, we must not go; for these poor deluded
wretches will all throw themselves into the fire, and burn them-
selves with the idol.” So we resolved to stay till the forage was
burned down too, and then we came away and left them.

In the morning we appeared among our fellow-travellers, ex-
ceedingly busy in getting ready for our journey; nor could any nan
suggest that we had been anywhere but in our beds, as travellers
might be supposed to be, to fit themselves for the fatigue of that
day’s journey.

But it did not end so. The next day came a great multitude
of the country-people, not only of this village, but of a hundred
more, for ought I know, to the town-gates, and, in a most out-
rageous manner, demanded satisfaction of the Russian governor
for the insulting their priests, and burning their great Cham-Chi-
Thaungu; such a hard name they gave the monstrous creature they
worshipped. The people of Nortsinskoy were, at first, in a great
consternation ; for they said, the Tartars were no less than thirty
thousand, and that in a few days more would be one hundred
thousand strong.

The Russian governor sent out messengers to appease them, and
THE GOVERNOR'S DIPLOMACY, 60E

gave them all the good words imaginable. He assured them he
knew nothing of it, and that there had not a soul of his garrison
been abroad; that it could not be from anybody there; and if
they would let him know who it was, they should be exemplarily
punished. They returned haughtily, that all the country re-
verenced the great Cham-Chi-Thaungu, who dwelt in the sun,
and no mortal would have dared to offer violence to his image but
some Christian miscreant, so they called them, it seems; and they
therefore denounced war against him, and all the Russians, who,
they said, were miscreants and Christians.

The governor, still patient, and unwilling to make a breach, or
to have any cause of war alleged to be given by him, the czar
having straitly charged them to treat the conquered country with
gentleness and civility, gave them still all the good words he
could. At last he told them there was a caravan gone towards
Russia that morning, and perhaps it was some of them who had
done them this injury; and that if they would be satisfied with
that, he would send after them to inquire into it. This seemed
to appease them a little ; and, accordingly, the governor sent after
us, and gave us a particular account how the thing was; intimating
withal that if any in our caravan had done it, they should make
their escape ; but that whether they had done it or no, we should
make all the haste forward that was possible; and that, in the
meantime, he would keep them in play as long as he could.

This was very friendly in the governor; however, when it came
to the caravan, there was nobody knew anything of the matter
And as for us that were guilty, we were the least of all suspected;
none so much as asked us the question. However, the captain of
the caravan for the time took the hint that the governor gave us,
and we marched or travelled two days and two nights without any
considerable stop. And then we lay at a village called Plothus;
nor did we make any long stop here, but hastened on towards
Jarawena, another of the Czar of Muscovy’s colonies, and where we
expected we should be safe; but it is to be observed, that here we
began for two or three days’ march to enter upon the vast nameless
desert, of which I shall say more in its place; and which, if we
had now been upon it, it is more than probable we had been all
606 A FORMIDABLE ENCAMPMENT.

destroyel. Tt was the second day’s march from Plothus that, by
the clouds of dust behind us, at a great distance, some of our
people began to be sensible we were pursued. We had entered
the desert, and had passed by a great lake called Schaks-Oser,
when we perceived a very great body of horse appear on the other
side of the lake to the north, we travelling west. We observed
they went away west as we did, but had supposed we would have
taken that side of the lake, whereas we very happily took the
south side; and in two days more we saw them not, for they,
believing we were still before them, pushed on till they came to

the river Udda. This is a very great river when it passes farther

 

north ; but where we came to it, we found it narrow, and fordable.

The third day they either found their mistake, or had intel-
ligence of us, and came pouring in upon us towards the dusk of
the evening. We had, to our great satisfaction, just pitched upon
a place for our camp which was very convenient, for the night; for
as we were upon a desert, though but at the beginning of it, that
was above five hundred miles over, we had no towns to lodge at,
and indeed expected none but the city Jarawena, which we had
yet two days’ march to. The desert, however, had some few woods
in it on this side, and little rivers, which ran all into the great
river Udda. It was in a narrow strait between two little, but very
thick woods, that we pitched our little camp for that night, ex-
pecting to be attacked in the night.

Nobody knew but ourselves what we were pursued for; but as
it was usual for the Mogul Tartars to go about in troops in that
desert, so the caravans always fortify themselves every night against
thei, as avainst armies of robbers; and it was therefore no new
thing to be pursued.

But we had this night, of all the nights of our travels, a most
advantageous camp; for we lay between two woods, with a little
rivulet running just before our front; so that we could not be
surrounded or attacked any way but in our front or rear. We
took care also to make our front as strong as we could, by placing
our packs, with our camels and horses, all in a line on the inside
of the river, and felling some trees in our rear.

In this posture we encamped for the night; but the enemy was
ARRIVAL OF THE ENEMY, 607

upon us before we had finished our situation. They did not come
on us like thieves, as we expected, but sent three messengers to
us, to demand the men to be delivered to them that had abused
their priests, and burnt their god Cham-Chi-Thaungu with fire,
that they might burn them with fire; and upon this, they said,
they would go away and do us no farther hari, otherwise they
would burn us all with fire. Our men looked very blank at this
message, and began to stare at one another, to see who looked
with most guilt in their faces; but nobody was the word, nobody
did it. The leader of the caravan sent word he was well assured
it was not done by any of our camp; that we were peaceable mer-
chants, travelling on our business; that we had done no harm to
them, or to any one else; and that, therefore, they must look
farther for their enemies who had injured them, for we were not
the people. So desired them not to disturb us; for, if they did,
we should defend ourselves.

‘They were far from being satisfied with this for an answer; but
a great crowd of them came down in the morning by break of day
to our camp. But seeing us in such an unaccountable situation,
they durst come no farther than the brook in our front, where
they stood and showed us such a number that indeed terrified us
very much; for those that spoke least of them, spoke of ten thou-
saud. Here they stood and looked at us awhile, and then setting
up a great howl, they let fly a crowd of arrows among us; but we
were well enough fortified for that, for we sheltered under our
baggage; and I do not remember that one man of us was hurt.

Some time after this, we saw them move a little to our right,
and expected them on the rear; when a cunning fellow, a Cossack,
as they call them, of Jarawena, in the pay of the Muscovites,
calling to the leader of the caravan, said to him, “T’ll go send all
these people away to Sibeilka.” This was a city four or five days
journey at least to the south, and rather behind us. So he takes
his bow and arrows, and getting on horseback, he rides away from
our rear directly, as it were, back to Nertzinskay. After this he
takes a great circuit about, and comes to the army of the Tartars,
as if he had been sent express to tell them a long story; that the

people who had burnt the Cham-Chi-Thaungu were gone to
(2a 39
608 CROSSING THE DESERT.

Sibeilka, with a caravan of miscreants, as he called them, that is
to say, Christians; and that they had resolved to burn the god
Schal-Tsar belonging to the Tongueses.

As this fellow was himself a’mere Tartar, and perfectly spoke
their language, he counterfeited so well, that they all took it from
him, and away they drove in a most violent hurry to Sibeilka,
which it seems was five days’ journey to the north; and in less
than three hours they were entirely out of our sight, and we never
heard any more of them; and we never knew whether they went
to that other place called Sibeilka or no.

So we passed safely on to the city of Jarawena, where there was
a garrison of Muscovites; and there we rested five days, the
caravan being exceedingly fatigued with the last day's hard march,
and with want of rost in the night.

From this city we had a frightful desert, which held us three-
and-twenty days’ march, We furnished ourselves with some tents
here, for the better accommodating ourselves in the night; and
the leader of the caravan procured sixteen carriages or waggons of
the country for carrying our water and provisions, and these
carriages were our defence every night round our little camp; so
that had the ‘Tartars appeared, unless they had been very numerous
indeed, they would not have been able to hurt us.

We may well be supposed to want rest again after this long
journey ; for in this desert we saw abundance of the sable-hunters,
as they called them. These are all Tartars of the Mogul Tartary,
of which this country is a part; and they frequently attack small
caravans, but we saw no numbers of them together. Twas curious
to see the sable-skins they catched, but could never speak with
any of them; for thoy durst not come near us, neither durst we
straggle from our company to go near them.

After we had passed this desert we came into a country pretty
well inhabited ; that is to say, we found towns and castles, settled
by the Gzar of Muscovy, with garrisons of stationary soldiers to
protect the caravans, and defend the country against the ‘Tartars,
who would otherwise make it very dangerous travelling ; and his
ozarish majesty has given such strict orders for the well guarding
the caravans and merchants, that if there are any Tartars heard of
DESCRIPTION OF THE TONGUESES, 608

in the country, detachments of the garrisons are always sent to see
tho travellers safe from station to station.

And thus the governor of Adinskoy, whom T had opportunity
to make a visit to, by means 6f the Scots merchant who was
acquainted with him, offered us a guard of fifty men, if we thought
there was any danger, to the next station,

T thought long before this, that as we came nearer to Kurope
we should find the country better peopled, and the people more
civilized; but I found myself mistaken in both, for we had yet the
nation of the ‘Tongueses to pass through, where we saw the same
tokens of paganism and barbarity, or worse than before, only as
they were conquered by the Muscovites, and entirely reduced, they
were not so dangerous ; but for rudeness of manners, idolatry, and
multitheism, no people in the world ever went beyond them.
They are clothed all in skins of boasts, and their houses are built
of the same. You know not a man from a woman, neither by the
ruggedness of their countenances or their clothes; and in the
winter, when the ground is covered with snow, they live under-
ground in houses like vaults, which have cavities going from one
to another,

Tf the Tartars had their Cham-Chi-Thaungu for a whole village
or country, these had idols in every hut and in every cave; besides,
they worship the stars, the sun, the water, the snow, and in a
word, everything that they do not understand, and they understand
but very little; so that almost every clement, every uncommon
thing, sets them a-sacrificing.

But [am no more to describe people than countries, any farther
than my own story comes to be concerned in them. I met with
nothing peculiar to myself in this country, which I reckon was,
from the desert which I spoke of last, at least four hundred miles,
half of it being another desert, which took us up twelve days’
severe travelling, without house, or tree, or bush, but were obliged
again to carry our own provisions, as well water as bread. After
we were out of this desert, and had travelled two days, we came to
Janezay, 1 Muscovite city or station on the great river Janezay a
(Yenisei?), This river they told us parted Europe from Asia, though
our map-makers, as I am told, do not agrea to it; however, it is

 
610 ARRIVAL A'T TOBOLSKT,

certainly the oastern boundary of the ancient Siberia, which now
makes up a province only of the vast Muscovite empire, but is itself
equal in bigness to the whole empire of Germany.

And yet here T observed ignorance and paganism still prevailed,
except in the Muscovite garrisons, ATL the country between the
river Oby and the river Janezay is as entirely pagan, and the
people as barbarous, as the remotest of the "Tartars; nay, as any
nation, for aught Eo know, in Asia or American Tb also found,
which T observed to the Muscovite governors whom | had oppor-
tunity to converse with, that the poor pagans are not much the
wiser or the nearer Christianity for being under the Muscovite
government; which they acknowledged was true enough ; but, as
they said, was none of their business. That if the czar expected
to convert his Siberian, or ‘Tonguese, or Partar subjects, it should
be done by sending clergymen among them, not soldiers ; and they
added, with more sincerity than T expected, that they found it was
not so much the concern of their monarch to make the people
Christians, as it was to make then subjects.

Brom this river to the great river Oby, we crossed a wild) and
uncultivated country, To cannot say it is a barren soil; it is
only barren of people and good management ; otherwise it is: in
itself a most pleasant, fruitful, and agreeable country. What
inhabitants we found in it are all pagans, except such as are sent
among them from Russia; for this is the country, Tmean on both
sides the river Oby, whither the Muscovite criminals, that are not
put to death, are banished, and from whence it is next to impos-
sible they should ever come away.

L have nothing material to say of my particular affairs, till T
came to Tobolski, the capital city of Siberia, where T continued
some time on the following occasion :—

We had been now almost seven months on our journey, and
winter began to come on apace; whereupon my partner and TI
called a council about our particular affairs, in which we found it
proper, considering that we were bound for England, and not. for
Moscow, to consider how to dispose of ourselves. They told us of
sledges and reindeer to carry us over the snow in the winter time;
and, indeed, they have such things that it would be ineredible to
IN A COLD CLIMATE. 611

relate the particulars of, by which means the Russians travel more
in the winter than they can in summer; because in these sledges they
are able to run all night and day: the snow being frozen, is one
universal covering to Nature, by which the hills, the vales, the
rivers, the lakes, all are smooth and hard as a stone; and they run
upon the surface, without any regard to what is underneath,

But Thad no occasion to push at a winter journey of this kind;
Twas bound to Kngland, not to Moscow, and my route lay two
ways: cither To must go on as the caravan went, till I came to
Jarislaw, and then go off west for Narva, and the Gulf of Fin-
land, and so either by sea or land to Dantzic, where [ might pos-
sibly sell my China cargo to good advantage; or I must leave the
caravan at a little town on the Dwina, from whence I had but six
days by water to Archangel, and from thence might be sure ot
shipping, either to Nugland, Holland, or Hamburg.

Now, to go any of these journeys in the winter, would have been
preposterous ; for, as to Dantzic, the Baltic would be frozen up,
and LT could not get passage ; and to go by land in those countries,
was far less safe than among the Mogul Tartars; likewise to go
to Archangel in October, all the ships would be gone from thence,
and even the merchants, who dwell there in summer, retire south
to Moscow in the winter, when the ships are gone; so that I should
have nothing but extremity of cold to encounter, with a scarcity
of provisions, and must lie there in an empty town all the winter:
so that, upon the whole, I thought it a much better way to let the
eavavan go, and to make provision to winter where I was; namely,
at ‘Tobolski, in Siberia, in the latitude of sixty degrees, where I
was sure of three things to wear out a cold winter with; namely,
plenty of provision, such as the country afforded; a warm house,
with fuel enough, and excellent company : of all which I shall give
a full account in its place.

I was now in a quite different climate from my beloved island,
where I never felt cold, except when I had my ague; on the con-
trary, I had much to do to bear my clothes on my back, and never
made any fire but without doors, and for my necessity in dressing
my food, &. Now I made me three good vests, with large robes,
or gowns, over them, to hang down to the feet, and button close
612 LIME IN RUSSIA,

to the wrists, and all these lined with furs to make them sutliciently
warm,

As to a warm house, T must confess T greatly disliked our way
in Kngland, of making fires in every room in the house, in open
chimneys, which, when the fire was out, always kept the air in the
room cold as the climate. But taking an apartment ina good
house in the town, T ordered a chimney to be built like a furnace,
in the centre of six several rooms, like a stove; the funnel to carry
the smoke went up one way, the door to come at the fire went in
another, and all the rooms were kept equally warm, but no fire
seen; justas they heat the bagnios in Mneland.

By this means we had always the same climate in all the rooms,
and an equal heat was preserved; and how cold soever it was
without, it was always warm within, and yet we saw no fire, nor
were incommoded with any smoke,

The most wonderful thing of all was, that it should be possible
to meet with good company here, ina country so barbarous as that
of the most northerly parts of Hurope, near the Frozen Ocean, and
within but a very few degrees of Nova Zembla,

But this being the country where the State criminals of Muscovy,
as L observed before, are all banished, this city was full of noble-
mon, princes, gentlemen, colonels; and, in short, all degrees of the
nobility, gentry, soldiery, and courtiers of Muscovy. Here was
the famous Prince QGallitzin, the old) General Robostiski, and
several other persons of note, and some ladies.

By means of my Scots merchant, whom, nevertheless, 1 parted
with here, To made an acquaintance here with several of these
gentlemen, and some of them of the first rank ; and from these, in
the long winter nights in which T stayed here, T received several
very agreeable visits. Tt was talking one night with Prince -———,
one of the banished ministers of State, belonging to the Ozar of
Muscovy, that my talk of my particular case began. He had been
telling me abundance of fine things, of the greatness, the magnifi-
cence, the dominions, and the absolute power of the Emperor of
the Russians. I interrupted him, and told him, I was a greater
and more powerful prince than ever the QOzar of Muscovy was,
though my dominions were not. so large, or my people so many
A SIBERIAN EXILE. 615

The Russian grandee looked a little surprised, and, fixing his eyes
steadily upon me, began to wonder what I meant.

I told him his wonder would cease when I had explained inyself.
First, I told him, I had’the absolute disposal of the lives and for-
tunes of all my subjects: that, notwithstanding my absolute power,
T had no one person disaffected to my government or to my person,
in all my dominions. He shook his head at that, and said, there,
indeed, I outdid the Czar of Muscovy. I told him, that all the
lands in my kingdom were my own, and all my subjects were not
only my tenants, but tenants at will; that they would all fight for
me to the last drop; and that never tyrant, for such T acknowledged
myself to be, was ever s0 universally beloved, and yet so horribly
feared by his subjects.

After auusing them with these riddles in government for a while,
I opened the case, and told them the story at large of my living
in the island, and how I managed both myself and the people there
that were under me, just as I have since minuted it down. They
were exceedingly taken with the story, and especially the prince,
who told me, with a sigh, that the true greatness of life was to be
master of ourselves; that he would not have exchanged such a
state of life as mine, to have been Czar of Muscovy ; and that he
found more felicity in the retirement he seemed to be banished to
there, than ever he found in the highest authority he enjoyed in
the court of his master the czar: that the height of human wisdom
was to bring our tempers down to our circumstances, and to make
a calm within under the weight of the greatest storm without.
When he first came hither, he said, he used to tear the hair from
his head, and the clothes from his back, as others had done before
him: but a little time and consideration had made him look into
himself, as well as round him to things without; that he found
the mind of man, if it was but once brought to reflect upon the
state of universal life, and how little this world was concerned in
its true felicity, was perfectly capable of making a felicity for itself,
fully satisfying to itself, and suitable to its own best ends and
desires, with but very little assistance from the world; that air to
breathe in, food to sustain life, clothes for warmth, and liberty for
exercise in order to health, completed, in his opinion, all that the
614 “MY MIND TO ME A KINGDOM Is,”

world could do for us: and though tho greatness, the authority,
the riches, and the pleasures which some enjoyed in the world, and
which ho had enjoyed his share of, had much in them that was
agreeable to us, yet, he observed, that all those things chiefly
evatified the coarsest. of our affections, such as our ambition, our
particular pride, our avarice, our vanity, and our sensuality; all
which wore, indeed, the mere product. of the worst part of man,
were in themselves crimes, and had in them the seeds of all manner
of crimes, but neither were related to, or concerned with, any of
those virtues that constituted us wise men, or of those graces which
distinguished us as Christians: that being now deprived of all the
fancied felicity which he enjoyed in the full exercise of all those
vices, he said he was at leisure to look upon the dark side of them,
where he found all manner of deformity; and was now convinced
that virtue only makes aman truly wise, rich, and great, and pre-
serves him in the way to a superior happiness in-a future state,
And in this, he said, they were more happy in their banishment
than all their enemies were, who had the full possession of all
the wealth and power that they (the banished) had left. behind
them,

“Nor, sir,” says he, do TP bring my mind to this politically, by
the necessity of my cireumstances, which some call miserable; but
if Lknow anything of myself, T would not now go back, though
the evar, my master, should call me, and reinstate mo in all my
former grandeur 1 say, LF would no more go back to it, than I
believe my soul, when it shall be delivered from this prison of the
body, and has had a taste of the glorious state beyond life, would
come back to the gaol of flesh and blood it is now enclosed in, and
leave heaven to deal in the dirt and grime of human affairs.”

He spoke this with so much warmth in his temper, so much
earnestness and motion of his spirits, which were apparent in his
countenance, that it was evident it was the true sense of his soul,
There was no room to doubt his sincerity,

T told him, Lonce thought myself akind of a monarch in my old
station, of which Thad given him an account, but that T thought
he was not a monarch only, but a great conqueror; for that he
that has got a victory over his own exorbitant desires, and has the
A PHILOSOPHICAL DISCUSSION, 615

absolute dominion over himself, whose reason entirely governs his
will, is certainly greater than he that conquers a city. “ But, my
lord,” said T, ‘shall I take the liberty to ask you a question?”
‘With all my heart,” says he. “If the door of your liberty was
opened,” said I, “would you not take hold of it to deliver your-
self from this exile ?”

“Wold!” said he; “your question is subtle, and requires some
serious just distinctions to give it a sincere answer; and I’ll give it
to you from the bottom of my heart. Nothing that I know of in
this world would move me to deliver myself from this state of
banishment except these two—first, the enjoyment of my relations;
and, secondly, a little warmer climate. But I protest to you that
to go back to the pomp of the court, the glory, the power, the
hurry of a minister of state; the wealth, the gaiety, and the
pleasures, that is to say, follies, of a courtier ;—if my master should
send me word this moment, that he restores me to all he banished
me from, [ protest, if T know myself at all, I would not leave this
wilderness, these deserts, and these frozen lakes, for the palace at
Moscow,”

“ But, my lord,” said I, ‘perhaps you not only are banished
from the pleasures of the court, and from the power, and authority,
and wealth vou enjoyed before, but you may be absent, too, from
some of the conveniences of life, your estate, perhaps, confiscated,
and your effects plundered, and the supplies left you here may not
bo suitable to the ordinary demands of life.”

“ Ay,” says he, “that is, as you suppose me to be a lord ora
princes, &e. So indeed Tam; but you are now to consider me only
as aman, a human creature, not at all distinguished from another ;
and so [ can sutfer no want, unless T shall be visited with sickness
and distempers, However, to put the question out of dispute: you
seo our manner; we are in this place five persons of rank; we live
perfectly retired, as suited to a state of banishment; we have
something rescued from the shipwreck of our fortunes, which keeps
us from the mere necessity of hunting for our food; but the poor
soldiers who are here, without that help, live in as much plenty as
we, who go into the woods and catch sables and foxes; the labour
of a month will maintain them a year: and as the way of living
616 WAYS AND MEANS IN SIBERIA.

is not expensive, so it is not hard to get sufficient to ourselves;
so that objection is out of doors.”

T have not room to give a full account of the most agreeable
conversation T had with this truly great man; in all which he
showed that his mind was so inspired with a superior knowledge
of things, so supported by religion, as well as by a vast share of
wisdom, that his contempt of the world was really as much as he
had expressed, and that he was always the same to the last, as will
appear in the story Iam going to tell.

IT had been here eight months, and a dark, dreadful winter T
thought it to be, the cold so intense that T could not so much as
look about without being wrapped in firs, and a mask of fur before
my face, or rather a hood, with only a hole for breath, and two for
sight. The little daylight we had was, as we reckoned, for three
months not above five hours a day, and six at most; only that the
snow lying on the ground continually, and the weather clear, it
was never quite dark, Our horses were kept, or rather starved,
underground ; and as for our servants—for we hired three servants
here to look after our horses and selves—we had every now and
then their fingers and toes to thaw and take care of, lest they should
mortify and fall off.

It is true, within doors we were warm, the houses being close,
the walls thick, the lights small, and the glass all double. Our
food was chiefly the flesh of deer, dried and cured in the season ;
good bread enough, but baked as biscuits; dried fish of several
sorts, and some flesh of mutton, and of the buffaloes, which is
pretty good beef. All the stores of provision for the winter are
laid up in the summer, and well cured. Our drink was water
mixed with aqua vite instead of brandy ; and, for a treat, mead in-
stead of wine, which, however, they have excellent good. The
hunters, who venture abroad all weathers, frequently brought us
in fresh venison, very fat and good, and sometimes bear’s flesh, but
we did not much care for the last. We had a good stock of tea,
with which we treated our friends as above; and, in a word, we
lived very cheerfully and well, all things considered.

It was now March, and the days grown considerably longer, and
the weather, at least, tolerable; so the other travellers began to pre-
WHY NOT ESCAPE? 617

pare sleds to carry them over the snow, and to get things ready to be
going; but my measures being fixed, as I have said, for Archangel.
and not to Muscovy or the Baltic, I made no motion; knowing
very well that the ships from the south do net set out for that part
of the world till May or June; and that if I was there by the
beginning of August, it would be as soon as any ships would be ready
to go away; and therefore, I say, I made no haste to be gone as
others did; in a word, I saw a great many people, nay, all the
travellers, go away before me. It seems every year they go from
hence to Moscow for trade; namely, to carry furs, and buy neces-
saries with them, which they bring back to furnish their shops:
also otliers went of the same errand to Archangel; but then
they also being to come back again above eight hundred miles,
went all out before me.

In short, about the latter end of May I began to make all ready
to pack up; and as I was doing this, it occurred to me, that seeing
all these people were banished by the Czar of Muscovy to Siberia,
and yet, when they came there, were left at liberty to go whither
they would, why did they not then go away to any part of tlic
world wherever they thought fit? and I began to examine what
should hinder them from making such an attempt.

But my wonder was over when I entered upon that subject with
the person I have mentioned, who answered me thus: “ Consider,
first, sir,” said he, “the place where we are; and, secondly, the
condition we are in; especially,” said he, ‘the generality of the
people who are banished hither. We are surrounded,” said he,
“ \ ith stronger things than bars and bolts: on the north side an
unnavigable ocean, where ship never sailed and boat never swam ;
neither, if we had both, could we know where to go with them
Every other way,” said he, “we have above a thousand miles to
pass through the ezar’s own dominions, and by ways utterly
unpassable, except by the roads made by the governor, and by the
towns garrisoned by his troops; so that we could neither pass
undiscovered by the road, or subsist any other way; so that it is
in vain to attempt it.”

I was silenced, indeed, at once, and found that they were in a
prison every jot as secure as if they had been locked up in the
618 CRUSOE'S PROPOSAL TO HES FRIEND,

eastle at Moscow, However, it came into my thought, that 1
might certainly be made an instrument to procure the escape of
this excellent person, and that whatever hazard Toran, T would
certainly try if Teould carry him off Upon this T took an ocea-
sion one evening to tell him my thoughts: T represented to him
that it: was very easy for mo to carry him away, there heing no
euard over him in the country, and as Twas not going to Moscow,
but. to Archangel, and that T went in the nature of a caravan, by
whieh To owas not obliged to lie in the stationary towns i the
desert, but could encamp every night where T would, we might
easily pass uninterrupted to Archangel, where T would immediately
secure him on board an Bnglish or Duteh ship, and carry him off
safe along with me; and as to his subsistence, and other particulars,
it should be my care till he could better supply himself,

He heard me very attentively, and looked: earnestly on me all
the while TE spoke. Nay, T could see in his very face that what |
said put. his spirits into an exceeding ferment; his colour frequently
changed, his eyes looked red, and his heart. tluttered, that it might
be even perceived in his countenance; nor could he immediately
answer me when Thad done, and, as it were, expected what he would
say to it; but after he had paused a little he embraced me, and
said, © Low unhappy are we, unguarded creatures as we are, that even
our greatest acts of friendship are made snares to us, and we are
made tempters of one another! My dear friend,” said he, “your
offer is so sincere, has such kindness in it, is so disinterested in
itself, and is so calculated for my advantage, that T must. have very
little knowledge of the world, if T did not both wonder at it, and
acknowledge the obligation | have upon me to you for it: but did
you believe T was sincere in what Thave so often said to you of my
contempt of the world? Did you believe IT spoke my very soul to
you, and that Thad really obtained that degree of felicity here,
that had placed me above all that the world could give me, or do
forme? Did you believe Twas sincere, when | told you L would
not go back, if Twas recalled even to all that once LT was in the
court, with the favour of the ezar, my master ? Did you believe
me, my friend, to be an honest man, or did you think me to bea
boasting hypocrite?” Here he stopped, as if he would hear what
A MENTAL STRUGGLE, 619

T would say; but, indeed, [soon alter perceived, that he stopped
because his spirits were in motion; his great heart was full of
struggles, and he could not go on, 1 was, I confess, astonished at
the thing, as well as at the man, and [used some arguments with
him to urge him to set himself free; that he ought to look upon
this as a door opened by Heaven for his deliverance, and a summons
hy Providence, who has the care and disposition of all events, to do
himself good, and to render himself useful in the world,

Ife had by this time recovered himself. ‘ How do you know,
sir,’ says he, warmly, “that, instead of a summons from Heaven,
it may not bea feint of another instrument, representing, in all the
alluring colours to me, the show of felicity as a deliverance,
which may in itself be my snare, and tend directly to my ruin?
Here Tam free from the temptation of returning to my former
iniserablo greatness; there Dam not sure, but that all the sceds of
pride, ambition, avarice, and luxury, which IT know remain in
nature, may revive and take root, and, in a word, again overwhelm
me; and then the happy prisoner, whom you see now master of
his soul’s liberty, shall be the miserable slave of his own senses, in
the full of all personal liberty. Dear sir, let me remain in this
blessed confinement, banished from the crimes of life, rather than
purchase a show of freedom at the expense of the liberty of my
reason, and at the expense of the future happiness which now
LT have in my view, but shall then, I fear, quickly lose sight of;
for Tam but flesh, a man, a mere man, have passious and affections
as likely to possess and overthrow me as any man, Oh, be not my
friend and my tempter both together!”

If Twas surprised before, IT was quite dumb now, and stood
silent, looking at him; and, indeed, admired what I saw. The
struggle in his soul was so great, that, though the weather was
extremely cold, it put him into a most violent sweat, and I found
he wanted to give vent to his mind: so I said a word or two, that
1 would leave him to consider of it, and wait on him again; and
then I withdrew to my own apartment.

About two hours after, I heard somebody at or near the door of
my room, and I was going to open the door; but he had opened it,
and came in. ‘“ My dear friend,” says he, ‘ you had almost over.
620 AN EXCHANGE OF CIVILITIES,

get me, but I am recovered; do not take it ill that.I do not close
with your offer; I assure you, ’tis not for want of a sense of the
kindness of it in you: and I come to make the most sincere
acknowledgment of it to you; but, I hope, I have got the victory
over myself.”

“My lord,” said I, ‘I hope you are fully satisfied that you do
not resist the call of Heaven.” “ Sir,” said he, “if it had been from
Heaven, the same power would have influenced me to accept it;
but I hope, and am fully eatisfied, that it is from Heaven that I
decline it; and I have an infinite satisfaction in the parting, that
you shall leave me an honest man still, though not a free man.”

T had nothing to do but to acquiesce, and make professions to
him of my having no end in it but a sincere desire to serve him.
He embraced me very passionately, and assured me, he was sensible
of that, and should always acknowledge it: and with that he
offered me a very fine present of sables, too much indeed for me to
accept from a man in his circumstances; and I would have avoided
them, but he would not be refused. —

The next morning I sent my servant to his lordship, with a
small present of tea, and two pieces of China damask, and four
little wedges of Japan gold, which did not all weigh above six
ounces or thereabout, but were far short of the value of his sables,
which, indeed, when I came to England, I found worth near £200.
He accepted the tea, and one piece of the damask, and one of the
pieces of gold, which had a fine stamp upon it, of the Japan coin-
age, which I found he took for the rarity of it, but would not take
any more; and he sent word by my servant that he desired to
speak with me. '

When I came to him, he told me, I knew what ‘had passed
between us, and hoped I would not move him any more in that
affair; but that, since I had made such a generous offer to him, he
asked me, if I had kindness enough to offer the same to another.
person that he would name to me, in whom he had a great share
of concern. I told him, that I could not say [inclined to do so
much for any one but himself, for whom I had a particular value,
and should have been glad to have been the instrument of “his de-
liverance: however, if he would please to name: the person to me,
THE YOUNG RUSSIAN NOBLE. 62)

I would give him my answer, and hoped he, would not be
displeased with me, if he was with my answer. Te told Ine,
it was only his son,
whom, though I had not
seen, yet was in the same
condition with himself,
and above two hundred
miles from him, on the
other side the Oby; but
that, if T consented, he
would send for him.

I made no hesitation,
but told him I would do
it. I made some cere-
mony in letting him
understand that it was
wholly on his account;
and that seeing I could
not prevail on him, I ,,
would show my re-
spect to him by my

 

concern for his son.
But these things are “TL SENT MY SERVANT TO HIS LORDSHIP? WITR A
too tedious £6 repeat SMALL PRESENT OF TEA

here. He sent away the next day for his son; and, in about
twenty days, he came back with the messenger, bringing six or
seven horses loaded with very rich furs, and which in the whole
amounted to a very great value.

His servants brought the horses into the town, but left the
young lord at a distance, till night, when he came incognito into
our apartment, and his father presented him to me; and, in short,
we concerted there the manner of our travelling, and everything
proper for the journey.

I had bought a considerable quantity of sables, piack fox-skins,
fine ermines, and such other furs as are very rich—I say, I had
bought them in that city in exchange for some of the goods I
brought from China; in particular, for the cloves and nutmegs. of
622 DEPARTURE FROM 'TOBOLSKI.

which I sold the greatest part here, and the rest afterwards at Areh
angel, fora much better price than I could have done at London ;
and my partner, who was sensible of the profit, and whose business
more particularly than mine was merchandize, was mightily pleased
with our stay, on account of the traflie we made here.

It was the beginning of June when T left this remote place, a
city, I believe, little heard of in the world; and, indeed, it is so
far out of the road of commerce that T know not how it should be
much talked of. We were now come to a very small caravan,
being only thirty-two horses and camels in all; and all of them
passed for mine, though my new guest was proprietor of eleven of
them. Tt was most natural, also, that T should take more servants
with me than IT had before; and the young Jord passed for my
steward, What great man I passed for myself L know not, neither
did it concern me to inquire. We had here the worst and the
largest desert to pass over that we met with in all the journey.
Indeed, [ call it the worst, because the way was very deep in
some places and very uneven in others, The best we had to say
for it was, that we thought we had no troops of ‘Tartars and
robbers to fear, and that they never came on this side the Oby, or,
at least, but very seldom; but we found it otherwise.

My young lord had with him a faithful Muscovite servant, or
rather a Siberian servant, who was perfectly acquainted with the
country, and led us by private roads, that we avoided coming inte
the principal towns and cities upon the great road, such as ‘Tumen,
Soly-Kamskoi, and several others ; because the Muscovite garrisons
which are kept there are very curious and strict in their observa-
tion upon travellers, and searching lest any of the banished persons
of note should make their escape that way into Muscovy, But by
this means, as we were kept out of the cities, so our whole journey
was a desert, and we were obliged to encamp and lie in our tents
when we might have had very good accommodation in the cities
on the way. This the young lord was so sensible of, that he
would not allow us to lie abroad, when we came to several cities
on the way, but lay abroad himself with his servant in the woods,
and met us always at the appointed places.

We were just entered urope, having passed the river Kama,
IN A TERRIBLE FOREST. 623

which, in these parts, is the boundary between Europe and Asia.
and the first city on the Huropean side was called Soly-Kamskoi,
which is as much as to say, the great city, on the river Kama.
And here we thought to have seen some evident alteration in the
people, their manners, their habits, their religion, and their busi-
ness. But we were mistaken; for as we had a vast desert to pass,
which, by relation, is near seven hundred miles long in some
places, but not above two hundred miles over where we passed it,
so, till we came past that horrible place, we found very little dif-
ference between that country and the Mogul Tartary; the people
mostly pagans, and little better than the savages of America, their
houses and towns full of idols, anl their way of living wholly
barbarous, except in the cities as above, and the villages near
them, where there are Christians, as they call themselves, of the
Greek Church, but have their religion mingled with so many
relics of superstition, that it is scarce to be known in some places
from mere sorcery and witchcraft.

In passing this forest, I thought indeed we must, after all our
dangers were in our imagination escaped, as before, have been
plundered and robbed, and perhaps murdered, by a troop of thieves.
Of what country they were, whether the roving bands of the Os-
tiachi, a kind of Tartars or wild people on the bank of the Oby, and
ranged thus far; or whether they were the sable-hunters of
Siberia, 1 am yet at a loss to know; but they were all on horse-
back, carried bows and arrows, and were at first about five and
forty in number. They came so near to us, as within about two
musket shot, and, asking no questions, they surrounded us with
their horses, and looked very earnestly upon us twice. At length
they placed themselves just in our way, upon which we drew up
in a little line before our camels, being not above sixteen men in
all; and being drawn up thus, we halted, and sent out the Sibe-
rian servant, who attended his lord, to see who they were. His
master was the more willing to let him go, because he was not a
little apprehensive that they were a Siberian troop sent out after
him. The man came up near them with a flag of truce, and
called them; but though he spoke several of their languages of

dialects, or languages rather, he could not understand a word they
(284) ; 40
6u4 APPROACH OF THE TARTARS,

said. Ilowever, after some signs to him not to come nearer to
them at his peril, so he said he understood them to mean, offering
to shoot at him if he advanced, the fellow came back no wiser than
he went; only that by their dress, he said, he believed them to be
some T'artars of Kalmuck, or of Circassian hordes, and that there
must be more of them upon the great desert, though he never
heard that any of them ever were seen so far north before.

This was small comfort to us: however, we had no remedy,
There was on our left hand, at about a quarter of a mile’s distance,
alittle grove or clump of trees, which stood close together, and
very near the road. T immediately resolved we would advance to
those trees, and fortify ourselves as well as we could there: for,
first, T considered that the trees would, in a great measure, cover
us from their arrows ; and, in the next place, they could not come
to charge us in a body. [t was indeed my old Portuguese pilot
who proposed it, and who had this execellency attending him,
namely, that he was always readiest, and most apt to direct and
encourage us in cases of the most danger. We advanced imme-
diately with what speed we could, and gained that little wood, the
Tartars or thieves, for we knew not what to call them, keeping
their stand, and not attempting to hinder us. When we came
thither, we found, to our great satisfaction, that it was a swampy,
springy piece of ground; and on the one side, a very great spring
of water, which, running out ina little rill or brook, was, a little
farther, joined by another of the like bigness, and was, in short,
the head or source of a considerable river, called afterwards the
Wirtska, The trees which grew about this spring were not in all
above two hundred, but were very large, and stood pretty thick ;
so that as soon as we got in we saw ourselves perfectly safe from
the enemy, unless they alighted and attacked us on foot.

But to make this more difficult, our Portuguese, with indefati-
gable application, cut down great arms of the trees, and laid them
hanging, not quite cut off, from one tree to another, so that he
made a continued fence almost round us.

We stayed here, waiting the motion of the enemy, some hours,
without perceiving they made any motion : when, about two hours
before night, they came down directly upon us; and, though we
ATTACK, AND REPULSE, 625

had not perceived it, we found they had been joined by some more
of the same, so that they were near fourscore horse, whereof, how-
ever, we fancied some were women. ‘They came on till they were
within half shot of our little wood, when we fired one musket
without ball, and called to them in the Russian tongue to know
what they wanted, and bid them keep off. But, as if they knew
nothing of what we said, they came on with a double fury, directly
up to the wood-side, not imagining we were so barricaded that
they could not break in. Our old pilot was our captain. as well
as he had been our engincer, and desired of us not to fire upon
them till they came within pistol-shot, and that we might be sure
to kill; and that, when we did fire, we should be sure to take good
aim. We bade him give the word of command, which he delayed
so long that they were, some of them, within two pikes’ length of
us when we fired.

We aimed so true, or Providence directed our shot so sure, that
we killed fourteen of them, and wounded several others, as also
several of their horses; for we had all of us loaded our pieces with
two or three bullets at least.

They were terribly surprised with our fire, and retreated im-
mediately about one hundred rods from us, in which time we
loaded our pieces again; and seeing them keep that distance, we
sallied out, and caught four or five of their horses, whose riders,
we suppose, were killed, and, coming up to the dead, we could
easily perceive they were Tartars, but knew not from what country,
or how they came to make an excursion such an unusual length.

About an hour after, they made a motion to attack us again,
and rode round our little wood to see where else they might break
in; but finding us always ready to face them, they went off again,
and we resolved not to stir from the place for that night.

We slept little, you may be sure, but spent the most part of the
night in strengthening our situation, and barricading the entrances
into the wood, and keeping a strict watch. We waited for day-
light, and when it came it gave us a very unwelcome discovery
indeed; for the enemy, whom we thought were discouraged with
the reception they had met with, were now increased to no less
than three hundred, and had set up eleven or twelve huts and
626 A RETREAT BY NIGHT,

tents, as if they were resolved to besiege us; and this little camp
they had pitched upon the open plain, at about three-quarters of
a mile from us. We were indeed surprised at this discovery ; and
now, I confess, I gave myself over for lost, and all that I had.
The loss of my effects did not lie so near me, though they were
very considerable, as the thoughts of falling into the hands of such
barbarians, at the latter end of my journey, after so many diffi-
culties and hazards as I had gone through, and even in sight of
our port, where we expected safety and deliverance. As for my
partner, he was raging. He declared that to lose his goods would
be his ruin; and he would rather die than be starved: and he was
for fighting to the last drop.

The young lord, as gallant as ever flesh showed itself, was for
fighting to the last also; and my old pilot was of the opinion we
were able to resist them all in the situation we were then in. And
thus we spent the day in debates of what we should do. But to-
wards evening, we found that the number of our enemies still
increased, perhaps as they were abroad in several parties for prey.
The first had sent out scouts to call for help, and to acquaint them
of the booty; and we did not know but by the morning they
might still be a greater number. So T began to inquire of those
people we had brought from Tobolski if there was no other or
more private ways by which we might avoid them in the night,
and perhaps either retreat to some town, or get help to guard us
over the desert.

The Siberian, who was servant to the young lord, told us, if we
designed to avoid them, and not fight, he would engage to carry
us off in the night, to a way that went north towards the Petrou,
by which he made no question but we might get away, and the
Tartars never the wiser. But, he said, his lord had told him he
would not retreat, but would rather choose to fight. 1 told him
he mistook his lord; for that he was too wise a man to love fighting
for the sake of it ; that I knew his lord was brave enough by what
he had showed already; but that his lord knew better than to de-
sire to have seventeen or eighteen men fight five hundred, unless an
unavoidable necessity forced them to it; and that if he thought it
possible for us to escape in the night, we had nothing else to de
ARRIVAL AT ARCHANGEL, 627

but to attempt it. He answered, if his lord gave him such an order,
he would lose his life if he did not perform it. We soon brought
his lord to give that order, though privately ; and we immediately
prepared for the putting it in practice.

And, first, as soon as it began to be dark, we kindled a fire in
our little camp, which we kept burning, and prepared so as to
make it burn all night, that the Tartars might conclude we were
still there. But as soon as it was dark, that is to say, so as we
could see the stars, for our guide would not stir before, having
all our horses and camels ready loaded, we followed our new guide,
who, I soon found, steered himself by the pole, or north star, all
the country being level for a long way.

After we had travelled two hours very hard, it began to be
lighter still; not that it was quite dark all night, but the moon
began to rise, so that, in a word, it was rather lighter than we
wished it to be. By six o’clock the next morning, we were gotten
near forty miles, though the truth is, we almost spoiled our horses.
Here we found a Russian village named Kermazinskoy, where we
rested, and heard nothing of the Kalmuck Tartars that day.
About two hours before night, we set out again, and travelled till
eight the next morning, though not quite so quiet as before; and,
about seven o’clock, we passed a little river called Kirtza, and
came to a good large town inhabited by Russians, and very popu-
lous, called Ozomoys. There we heard that several troops or
hordes of Kalmucks had been abroad upon the desert, but that we
were now completely out of danger of them, which was to our
great satisfaction, you may be sure. Here we were obliged to get
some fresh horses, and having need enough of rest, we stayed five
days ; and my partner and I agreed to give the honest Siberian
who brought us thither, the value of ten pistoles for his conducting us.

In five days more we came to Veussima, upon the river
Witzogda, and running into the Dwina. We were there, very
happily, near the end of our travels by land, that river being
navigable in seven days’ passage to Archangel. From hence we
came to Lawrenskoy, the 3rd of July; and, providing ourselves
with two luggage-boats, and a barge for our own convenience, we
embarked the 7th, and arrived all safe at Archangel the 18th,
628 CRUSOE REACHES LONDON,

having beon a year and five months and three days on the journey,
including our stay of eight months and odd days at Tobolski.

Woe were obliged to stay at this place six weeks, for the arrival
of the ships, and must have tarried longer, had not a Hamburger
come in above a month sooner than any of the English ships ;
when, after somo consideration that the city of Hamburg might
happen to be as good a market, for our goods as London, we all
took freight with him; and, having put my goods on board, it
Was most natural for me to put my steward on board to take care
of them, by which means my young lord had a sufficient opportu-
nity to conceal himself, never coming on shore in all the time we
stayed there; and this he did that he might not be seen in the
city, Where some of the Moscow merchants would certainly have
seen and discovered him,

We sailed from Archangel the 20th of August, the same year,
and after no extraordinary bad voyage, arrived in the Elbe the
Sth of September. Here my partner and T found a very good
sale for our goods, as well those of China, as the sables, &e., of
Siberia; and dividing the produce of our effects, my share
amounted to £3475, Lis. 8d., notwithstanding so many losses
we had sustained, and charges we had been at, only remembering
that T had included in this about six hundred pounds worth of
diamonds which [had purchased at Bengal,

Here the young lord took his leave of us, and went up the Hlbe,
in order to go to the Court of Vienna, where he resolved to seek
protection, and where he could correspond with those of his
fathor’s friends who were left alive. We did not part without all
the testimonies he could give me of gratitude for the service T had
done him, and his sense of my kindness to the prince, his father.

To conclude, Having stayed near four months in Hamburg,
T came from thence overland to the Hague, where I embarked in
the packet, and arrived in London the 10th of January 1705,
having been gone from England ten years and nine months.

And here, resolving to harass myself no more, I am preparing
for a longer journey than all these, having lived seventy-two
years a life of infinite variety, and learned sufticiently to know the
value of retirement, and the blessing of ending our days in peace.
Ae aN Da

sie

Tf
ALEXANDER SELKIRK.
A Memoir.

 E FOE is generally supposed to have founded his famous fiction
on the real adventures of a Seotch seaman, named Alexandor
Solkirk, who spent some years in solitude on the island of
Juan Fornandez. The life of this individual was so full ot
romantic incidents that a brief outline of it may probably be
acceptable to our readers,

Alexander Selkirk, or Selcraig, as his name was originally
spolled, was born in the year 1676, at Largo, a small seaport town on tho
coast of Fife. He was the seventh son and seventh child of John Selcraig
and his wife, Kuphan Mackie; and, according to an old superstition, was
fated from his birth to be the hero of extraordinary adventures.

At an early age he was sent to school, where he evinced much quicknoss
of parts and waywardness of temper, with a decided bias towards a seafaring
life. Ho made considerable progress in the branches of study there taught,
and especially in navigation ; but out of school made a not less considerable
progress in the art of daring mischief, His faults seem to have been
developed by the over-indulgence of his mother, which provoked, as is often
the case, a too great severity on the part of the father. The latter frequently
threatened to disinherit him; and on one occasion flung at his son a walk-
ing-staff, with the pithy sentence: “ A whip for the horse, a bridle for the
ass, and a rod for the fool’s back.”

In most of the Scottish parishes, at the epoch of the great revolution of
1688, a ferment arose of a mixed political and ecclesiastical character; and
the clergy who favoured the new Government were frequently dismissed
from their cures by their indignant parishioners. In Largo the people
assembled in the churchyard, and opposed the clergyman’s entry iutu the

  
6380 A TURBULENT YOUTH.

church to perform tho functions of his office, Among tho ringleaders on
this occasion woro Aloxander Solkirk and his elder brother, John. They
gainod their ond; tho minister thought discretion tho botter part of valour,
and quietly retired.

Aloxandor’s wilfulnoss was moro openly manifested every year; and in
1695 ho subjected himself to ecclosiastical consure by “ indecent conduct in
chureh.” To avoid a public reprimand, he went to sea; and for six years
wandered from ono part of the world to anothor, acquiring a practical know-
ledge of seamanship, and gathering a considerable amount of curious
information, Tho sea, in those days, was no good school for the wayward
and restless ; and Selkirk returned to Largo in 1701 as incapable of leading
an orderly and quiet life as when he left it. The parish records of Largo,”
under the date of November 25, 1701, afford us a singular picture of the
mannors of the tine, and a vivid illustration of the recklessness and fitful
tomper of young Alexander :—

“This day, John Seleraig, elder, boing called [before the kirk-sossion, or
ruling body of the parish kirk], compeared, and boing examined what was
the occasion of the tumult that was in his house, he said he knew not; but
that Andrew Seleraig having eet in av can full of salt water, of which
his brother Alexander did take“@ drink through mistake, and ho laughing
at him for it, his brother Alexander came and beat him; upon which he ran
out of the house, and called his brother John.

“John Solcraig, elder, being again questioned what made him to sit upon
the floor with his back at the door, he said it was to keep down his son
Alexander, who was seeking to go up to get down his pistol. And being
inquired what he was going to do with it? he said he could not tell.

“The samo day, Alexander Soleraig, called, compearod not. He was at
Jupar. He is to be cited pro secundo against tho noxt session,

“Tho samo day, John Selernig, younger, called, compeared, and being
questioned concerning the tumult that was in his father’s house of the 7th
November last, declared, that he, being called by his brother Andrew, camo
to it; and whon he entered the house, his mother went out; and he, seeing
his fathor sitting upon the floor with his brother at the door, was much
troubled, and offered to help him up, and to bring him to the floor; at which
time he did soo his brother Alexandor in the other end of the house, casting
off his coat, and coming towards him, did get betwixt them; but he knew
not what he did otherways, his head being borne down by his brother
Alexander ; but afterwards, being liberated by his wife, he made his escape.

“Same day, Margaret Bell called, compeared, and being inquired what
was the occasion of the tumult which fell out in her father-in-law’s house on
the 7th November, she said, that Andrew Selcraig came running for her
husband John, and desiring him to go to his father’s house; which he doing,
the said Margaret did follow her husband, and, coming into the house, she

* Howell, “ Life and Adventures of Alexander Selkirk ” (ed. 1829), pp 25-28,
GOING TO SEA. 681

found the said Alexander gripping both her father and her husband, and
she labouring to loose his hands from her husband’s head and breast, her
husband fled out of doors, and she followed him, and called back again,
‘ You false loon, will you murder your father and my husband both ?’ where-
upon he followed her to the door; but whether he beat her or not, she
was in so great confusion, she cannot say distinctly, but ever since she hath
a sore pain in her head.

“The same day, Andrew Seleraig called, compeared, but said nothing to
purpose in the aforesaid business. ‘This business is delayed until the next
session until further inquiry be made.

“* November 29.—Alexander Selcraig, scandalous for contention and dis-
agreeing with his brothers, called, compeared, and being questioned con-
cerning the tumult that was in his house, whereof he was said to be the
occasion, ho coniessed that, he having taken a drink of salt water out of a
can, his younger brother Andrew laughing at him for it, he did beat him
twice with a staff. He confessed also that he had spoken very ill words
concerning his brother, and particularly he challenged his elder brother
John to a combat, as he called it, of dry neifs (fists), ells then, he said, he
would not even care to do it now, which afterwards he did refuse and
regrate (recall?) ; moreover he said several things, whereupon the session
appointed him to compear before the face of the congregation for his scandal.
ous carriage.

“ November 80.—Alexander Seleraig, according to the session’s appoint-
ment, compeared before the pulpit, and made acknowledgment of his sin in
disagreeing with his brothers ; and was rebuked in the face of the congrega-
tion for it, and promised amendment in the strength of the Lord, and so
was dismissed.”

In the following spring, the ever-restless Selkirk once more quitted the
scone of his youthful follies, and sailed for England, with the view of en-
gaging himself on board some ship destined to cruise against the Spanish
possessions in the South Seas. Here he fell in with Captain Dampier, the
well-known seaman, whose circumnavigation of the globe had secured him
a lasting reputation, and whose narrative of his adventures is written with a
force and a simplicity of style, and an accuracy of observation, which will
ever be found pleasing. England was then at war with Spain; and Dampier,
who was well acquainted with the American coast, proposed the equipment
of an expedition to act against the Spanish in a quarter of the world where
they were necessarily weakest. His design was, to sail up the river Plata
as far as Buenos Ayres, and capture two or three Spanish galleons which
were usually stationed there. If the prizes proved equal in value to what
he expected, he would return to England; otherwise, he would double Cape
Horn, enter the Pacific, and cruise off the coast of Peru for the Valdivia
ships. which conveyed great quantities of gold to Lima. But should this
632 ON BOARD THE ‘ CINQUE PORTS,”

project also fail, he would descend upon such wealthy towns of the Pacific
as might seem worth plundering, and afterwards lie in wait, like Anson at
a later period, for the great Acapuleo galleon, ‘whose rich cargo was esti-
mated at a value of thirteen or fourteen millions of pieces of eight.

Ne found some merchants willing to subscribe the money requisite for’
fitting out two ships: the St, George, of twenty-six guns, on board of which
ho hoisted his own flag; and the Fame, also of twenty-six, commanded by
Japtain Pulling. And having obtained commissions ffom the Lord High
Admiral to act as privateers against the Queen’s enemies, they sailed on
their bold errand.

At the outset, however, a quarrel arose between Dampier and Pulling,
which led to the latter embarking on a venture of his own, and sailing for
the Canary Islands. To supply his place, the Cingue Ports galley, of sixteen
guns, and carrying sixty-three men, was equipped, with one Charles Picker-
ing as captain, and Alexander Selkirk as sailing-master.

On the 80th of April 1703, the S¢. George sailed from the Downs; and on
the 18th of May anchored at Kinsale, where she was soon afterwards joined
by the Cingue Ports galley.

A variety of circumstances detained the two ships at Kinsale until the
11th of September. They then made for the island of Madeira, which they
reached on the 25th. Here they had the mortification to learn that the
Plata galleons had escaped them through their long delay, and arrived in
safety at Teneriffe. Dampier then resolved to abandon all idea of sailing
for the river La Plata, and to stand away for the Spanish Main, a favourite
scene of the operations of the buccaneers. On tho 80th of September they
passed the islands of Palmas and Ferro; and on the 6th of October reached
Mayo, one of the Cape de Verde group, where they hoped to take in a
supply of salt, but were prevented by the state of the sea. On the 7th they
anchored in Port Praya, in the island of Santiago, where they refreshed
themselves with a briof sojourn on shore, and laid in a stock of fresh water.

On the 2nd of November the two ships crossed the line. Fever now
broke out among the crews, prostrating some of the ablest seamen; and at
La Granda (latitude 80° north), where they put in for water and fuel.
Captain Pickering died, to the great loss of the expedition. His death
awoke in Selkirk’s mind a resolution to remain on some lonely island,
rather than serve under Stradling, who had succeeded to the command of
the Cingue Ports, and who seems to have been a man of arbitrary and violent
disposition. It was at this time, we are told, while brooding over the
untoward appearances that were but too evident to every person of judgment,
that he had a remarkable dream, in which he was forewarned of the total
failure of the expedition and shipwreck of the Cinque Ports. From this
moment he determined upon leaving her as soon as a favourable Opportunity
occurred.
OFF JUAN FERNANDEZ, 638

The next contretemps arose through the tyrannical temper of Dampier
who, with all his ability, perseverance, and firmness, was ill fitted to com:
mand men. Having quarrelled with his first lieutenant, the latter, and
sight of the crew of the St. George, taking their chests on shore with them,
left the vessel. It must be remembered, however, that the bonds of disci-
pline on board those privateers were always very loose, and that their crews
were composed of adventurers of all nations, greedy of gain and impatient
of control. The fault of the frequent outbreaks which occurred did not
always lie with the commander ; but was really that of the officers and men,
who, on the slightest pretext, refused obedience to his orders.

The expedition now made sail for the island of Juan Fernandez. On the
29th of December they sighted the Falkland Islands. On the 4th of
January 1704, in latitude 57° 50’ south, they were encountered by a violent
south-west gale, which lasted several days, and during which the Cingue
Ports lost sight of her consort. After a dangerous passage round Cape Horn,
she made the best of her way for Juan Fernandez, where sho arrived on the
10th of February. On the 13th she was joined by the St. George.

In this pleasant island, which abounds in green savannahs, leafy woods,
and crystal streams, the weary crews refreshed themselves for some time.
They took in a supply of wood and water, and overhauled their shattered
ships. To economize the provisions in the ships’ stores, they caught a
number of the goats which abounded in the island, and ate them, boiled
with the tops of the delicious cabbage-palm. They also killed several sea-
lions, using the fat, in the shape of oil, to supply their lamps. Young seals
likewise fell victims to their appetite for “ fresh meat,” and their fare was
further relieved by the quantities of fish which they caught in the neigh-
bouring waters.

While enjoying the dainties of this island-Elysium, they were startled, on
the 29th of February, by the appearance of a strange sail. Immediately
they rushed on board their vessels, and hoisted all sail in pursuit. About
eleven at night the St. George came up with her. She proved to be a French
vessel of about four hundred tons, and mounting thirty guns. At sunrise the
St. George got alongside, and a desperate action ensued. For some hours
it continued with little advantage on either side. At last the fire of the
French ship began to slacken, and she was on the point of surrendering,
when a fresh breeze sprang up, and she made sail, the St. George being
unable to follow from her crippled condition. She lost nine men killed, and
at least a third of her crew were wounded; for the Cingue Ports having fallen
astern becalmed, Dampier had to bear the whole brunt of the action.

When the Cinque Ports at length came up, the crews on board both
vessels were eager to pursue the enemy; but both Dampier and Stradling
deemed it advisable to return to Juan Fernandez, and take on board the men
who, owing to their hurried departure, had been left ashore. On the 8rd of
Murch they came in sight of the island. A calm coming on, the Cingue
634 ADVENTURES IN THE SPANISH MAIN,

Ports put out her ours and rowed for tho land; but to her great surprise
discovered two ships at anchor-—rench South Sea vessels, each of sixteen
guns—a force with which it was impossiblo for them to cope. She carried
the bad tidings to the Sé. George, and both vessels on the 6th hore away tg
the north.

On tho 22nd thoy found themselves off Lima, and furling thoir sails, that
thoy might not bo seen from tho shoro, they lay to for some hours, in tho
hope of surprising somo of the Spanish barquos as they quitted or entered tho
port. Disappointed in this, they again mado sail, and, steering northward,
discovered two strango vessels, which they immediately chased. Coming
up with the sternmost, sho proved to bo the formor adversary of the
St. George, whose men now hoped to secure the coveted prize; but. Dampior
being unwilling to throw away any moro lives in the contest, she was
wllowed to oscapo, and the English ships again ran to the northward. On
the 24th thoy fell in with and captured a Spanish trader of about one
hundred and fifty tons. They took from her all that seomod most valuable,
and then allowed her to depart. The same course was adopted with a
second prize, much to the discontent of the crows, though Dampier was
certainly justified in not weakening his small foreo hy distributing it on
board of three or four vessels,

After somo othor captures of no great importance, Dampier determined to
altack the rich town of Santa Maria; and for this purposo he anchored his
two ships, on the 25th of April, at Point Garachina; and leaving them in
chargo of sixty men, ho proceeded, with Stradling and ono hundred and two
seamon, armed to the teeth, in three stout Spanish launches, to the attack.
Tho night was dark and stormy, with rain, thunder, and lightning, and the
men in their open boats were as uncomfortable as can well be imagined ; but
tho hope of a rich booty cheered and encouraged their spirits. Untor-
tunately, when daylight appeared, they were discovered by an Indian
eanoo, Which camo within hail, and inquired whence they came. Their
Indian pilot, by Dampior's ordors, answered, “ From Panama,” and invited
them on board ; but the canoe sheered off, and mado haste to alarm the
neighbouring towns. ‘To remedy this misadyenturo as far as possible,
Dampier despatchod Stradling with two of the launches which drew but little
wator, to tako the town of Schucadero, intending to follow in his heavier
boat as soon as tho tide permitted.

Stradling was successful in his enterprise. 'Tho inhabitants of Schueadero
flod at his approach, and, plundering their huts, ho accumulated a welcome
supply of fresh provisions. From some letters which he found, and which
ho forwarded to Dampier, it appeared that the Spaniards were on their
guard, and that a reinforcement of four hundred men had been sent to Santa
Maria. However, the two captains having once more joined their little
squadrons, resolved to proceed on their expedition, and on the 20th of April
arrived within a quarter of a mile of the town, Here they were attacked hy
LANDING ON JUAN FERNANDEZ, 63h

ambuscades from both banks of the river, and though they beat back the
enemy, Dampier perceived that the town was too well defended to be carried
by a coup-de-main, while his force was insufficient for a regular attack. They
therefore dropped down the river in a state of great discouragement to
‘Point Garachina, and on the 6th of May rejoined their ships, Having
exhausted tho supply obtained at Schucadero, they suffered greatly from
want of provisions ; but, fortunately, a Spanish vessel in the night anchored
close alongside, was immediately boarded and taken, and rejoiced them with
an ample store of flour and sugar, brandy and wine, marmalade and other
luxuries and necessaries; so that they suddenly passed from a state of
destitution to one of unbounded plenty. Selkirk was put on board the prize,
as representative of Stradling and his company; one Fennel, as representa-
tive of Dampier and the crew of the St. George.

They now ran across the Bay of Panama, and on the 14th arrived off
Tobago, where they lay to, and addressed themselves to the pleasant task
of rifling their prize. While thus engaged, a quarrel broke out between the
communders, and it waxed so bitter that they agreed to separato, giving
the men their choice to stay in either vessel as they chose. In consequence,
five of the crew of the S¢. George went on board the Cinque Ports, and five
of the crew of the latter embarked in the St. George. Then the two vessels
parted, nor did they ever again meet.

From this period until the end of August the Cingue Ports kept cruising
along the shores of Mexico, or among the islands, but no prizes were made.
A disagreement meanwhile arose between Stradling and Selkirk, and the
latter resolved, at whatever risk, to quit the ship. Being compelled by
want of provisions to carry the Cingue Ports to Juan Fernandez, Stradling
recovered there two of his crew, who had managed to conceal themselves on
the arrival of the French vessels already spoken of, and who now described
their island-life in such glowing terms that Selkirk was more than ever
resolved to leave the Cinque Ports. Accordingly, when the galley was fully
refitted, ho was landed with all his effects, and he leaped on shore in a
temporary transport of joy and freedom. He shook hands with his comrades,
and bade them adieu in a hearty manner ; but no sooner, says Howell, did
the sound of their oars, as they left the beach, fall on his ears, than the
horrors of being left alone, cut off from all human society, perhaps for ever,
rushed upon his mind. His heart sunk within him, and all his resolution
fled. It was in vain, however, that, rushing into the water, he implored
those on board to take him with them. Stradling laughed at his entreaties,
and declared that his present situation was the most proper for so discon-
tented and rebellious an individual.

In the second part of this Appendix we give i extenso Selkirk’s own
narrative, as furnished to Captain Woodes Rogers, of his lonely life upon
the island of Juan Fernandez. Our notice of it here will, therefore, be very
brief.
636 ALONE ON THE ISLAND,

At first he not unnaturally suffered from a severe dejection of spirit, He
never tasted food until compelled by hunger, but sat on a projecting rock,
with his eyes fixed on the wide blue sea, as if in expectation of the return
of his comrades, But by degrees this lothargie melancholy wore off; and
though his days were renderod heavy by the oppressive sense of solitude
which weighed upon him, and his nights disturbed by the startling sounda
of troos and rocks erashine down from the distant heights, he began to gain
a sense of self-reliance, and a spirit of patient endurance, His early training
under religious parents proved, too, of groat advantage, and he recalled the
lessons of God's goodness and watchful providence which he had learned in
his youth, but for many years had neglected or despised, As winter
approached, he felt the necessity of providing himself with some shelter
against the weather, and this still further roused him from his deapondency,
for work is a constant souree of cheerfulness and courage. Ele erected a
couple of huts with the wood of the pimento-tree, and roofed them with a
kind of grass that grows to the height of seven or eight foet upon the plains
and valley slopes, aud produces a straw resembling that of oats, One was
much larger than the othor, and situated near a spacious wood, ‘This he
made his sleepine-room, and init he erected a rough kind of bed, covered
with goats’ skins. Tle also used it asa chapel, er oratory ; and every night
and morning ho sung a psalm, read a portion of Seriptaure, and prayed
devoutly.

His smaller hut was his kitehon, Its “ fittings’ were necessarily rida,
for they were of his own manufacture; but they answered his purpose as
Woll as amore costly equipment. Around his dwelling he kept a flock of
yoats, remarkably tame, which he captured when young, and lamed, so as
to diminish their speed without injuring their health. These formed his
“reserve,” to be drawn upon in case of illness, or any unforeseen accident.
Mor prosont supplies, he caught his goats by sheer speed of foot,

Ho occasionally amusod himself by cutting upon the trees his name, and
the dato when ho was left on the islind ; evidently with the hope, that when
he should have terminated his solitary life, some future navigator might
learn, from these rade memorials, that Alexander Selkirk had lived and died
upon the island. On Lord Anson's visit to Juan Mornandes, however, in
1741, ho was unablo to find one of those names or dates upon any of the
trees,

‘Tho following description of the ishind is from the pen of Lord Anson's
vhaplain, who wrote tho published narrative of that illustrious soaman's
cirenmmavigation of the world :—

“The woods which covered most of the steepost hills were free from all
bushos and underwood, and offred an easy passage through every part of
them ; and the irregularitios of the hills and procipices in the northern part
of the island necessarily traced, by thoir various combinations, a great
number of romantic valloys, most of which had astroam of the cloarost water
RESCUE OF THE SOLITARY, 489

running through them, that tumbled into cascades from rock to rock, aa the
bottom of the valleys, by the course of the neighbouring hilla, waa at any
time broken into a sudden sharp descent, Some particular spots oceurred
in these valloya, where the shade and fragrance of the contiguous wooda, the
loftinoss of the overhanging rocks, and the transparency and frequont falls
of the neighbouring stroams, presented scones of such elegance and dignity
as aro but rarely paralleled in any other part of the globe. It is on this
place, perhaps, that the simple productions of unassisted nature may be said
to excol all the fletitious descriptions of the moat animated imagination.”

In 1708, an expedition againat the French and Spanish was equipped by
sovoral morchants of Bristol, consisting of the uke, of thirty guna, Captain
Woodes Rogers; and the Duchess, of twenty-five guns, Captain Courtney
(afterwards Captain Dover), As they were dostined to act in the South
Seas, they carried Dampier as thoir pilots a post for which he was well fitted
by his nautical experionce. They sailod trom Bristol on the Ist of Augnat;
loft Cork on the Ist of Septomber; anchored at the island of La Granda, off
the Brazilian const, on the 18th of November; doubled Cape Horn in
Decomber ; and on the 8ist of January 1709, camo in sight of Juan Ker-
nandes,

“Slowly,” says Mr, Howoll, ‘the vossels rose into view, and Selkirk could
scarcoly boliove tho sight real; for often had he boon deceived before, They
gradually approached the islind, and he at length ascertained them to be
Knglish, Groat was the tumult of passions that rose in his mind; but the
love of home overpowered thom all, It was late in the afternoon when they
first came in sight; and leat they should sail again without knowing that
there was a person on the island, he prepared a quantity of wood to burn as
soon as it was dark. Ho kept his eye fixed upon them until nightfall, and
thon kindled his fire, and kept it up until morning dawned, His hopes and
fours having banished all desire for sleep, he employed himself in killing
sovoral goats, and in proparing an entertainment for his expected guesta,
knowing how acceptable it would be to them after their long run, with
nothing but salt provisions to live upon,”

The noxt day, about noon, Woodes Rogers sent a boat on shore. The
reader will understand with what delight its approach was observed by the
solitary, and with what eagerness he welcomed his countrymen. He em-
braced them by turns; but at first his excess of joy fettered his voice, and
he could not speak. He had at this time his last shirt upon his back ; hia
feet and legs were bare; the skins of wild animals partly covered his thighs
and body. His beard was of patriarchal length, and a rough goat's skin
cap crowned his unkempt locks, he first transports of happiness over, his
tongue was loosed ; he overwhelmed his visitors with questions, and eagerly
replied to all which they addressed to him, Curiosity satisfled on both sides,
the boat returned to the uke, taking Selkirk with them, who being recom.
638 SELKIRK RETURNS HOME,

mended to Captain Woodes Rogers by Dampier as an excollent seaman, was
immediately engayed as mate. For ton days the two captains remained at
tho island, refitting their ships, and collecting supplies of water, fuel, and
fresh meat. On the 12th, Selkirk bade adieu to the island whieh had been
his lonely home for upwards of four years, and to the singular and romantic
life which was to suggest fo a oman of genius one of the finest and most
popular romances in the Enelish language,

Selkirk served under Captain Woodes Rogers during the whole course of
the expedition, whieh was distinguished by many stirring incidents of war
and adventure, but does not require to be chronicled in the present memoir.
Ho was distinguished by his tomporance, gravity, and taciturnity, by a strict
obedience to orders, and an exemplary freedom from what are sometimes called
“soamon's vices.’ Ilo had profited greatly by his prolonged meditations in
his island solitude, and was no longer the wayward youth who had incurred
the consure of kirk-sessions, nor the dissatistiod individual who had pre-
forred a lonely life on a desert island to the control of a superior,

He danded at Erith, on the Thames, October 14, 1711, having been absent
from the * home country eight years, ono month, and three days. On his
arrival, the story of his extraordinary adventures soon got noised abroad,
and caused his company to be solicited by the learned and curious, — Llaving
beon introduced to Sir Richard Steele, that accomplished writer described
him and his history in the twenty-sixth number of the Mnglishman. ‘It
was matter of great curiosity,” ho says, “to hear him, as he is aman of
good sense, give an account of the different revolutions in his own mind in
that long solitude. When I first saw him, | thought, even if Thad not been
let into his character and story, | could have discovered that he had been
much separated from company, from his aspect and gesture. ‘There was a
strong but cheorful soriousness in his look, and a certain disregard to the
ordinary things around him, as if ho had boon sunk in thought. ‘The man
frequently bewailed his return to the world; which could not, as he said,
with all its onjoymonts, restore to him the tranquillity of his solitude,”

It was on tho still forenoon of a Sabbath-day, in the early spring of 1712,
that Alexander Solkirk knocked at the door of his father’s house in Largo,
No ono was at homo, for it was the hour of divine service, Selkirk, thore-
fore, repaired to the church, and with emotions it is impossible to describe,
took his seat in tho sanctuary which ho had so often entered in a spirit of
cold indifference. His entrance immediately attracted the general atten-
tion; for not only was ho a stranger, but richly attired, and wearing an air
of dignified gravity, which in itself compelled notice and demanded respect,
At longth his mother recognized him, and forgetting the restraint imposed
by the house of God, sho rushed from her seat, and flung horself’ into his
arms, ‘Tho prodigal had returned, and who would not bid him welcome ?

At first, Selkirk appearod calm and happy in the socevisty of his parents
HIS MARRIAGE AND DEATH. 689

and friends, though, from the habits he had acquired in his island-solitude,
ho would leave them for long intervals, and retiro into the groves and valleys
to enjoy the luxury of lonely meditation, But by degrees this contented-
ness of disposition wore away. Hoe was scizod with paroxysms of dejection.
and was often hoard to murmur, “ Oh, my beloved island!—I wish I had
never left thee !—I never was before the man I was on thee!—I have not
been such since I left theo! and, I fear, never can be again!” We are
tempted to believe that religions fears wore at the bottom of this singular
despondency, and that he was haunted by an apprehension of relapsing into
the errors and wayward follies of his carly youth.

On the summit of an eminence commanding a picturesque view of the
Forth he constructed a cave, whore he spent a considerable portion of his
timo, He also spent soveral hours every day in fishing, cither in the beautiful
Bay of Largo, or at Kingscraig Point,—but always alone. Yet not always
alone, In his later wanderings, he met with an amiable young peasant girl,
named Sophia Bruce, and a romantic attachment springing up between the
wave-worn seaman and the simple maiden, tho two agreed to become one,
and secretly set off for London. As no obstacle could be opposed to their
marriage by parents or friends, it is reasonable to suppose that the elope-
ment was dictated by a desire to avoid the laughter of the foolish. How
easily might josts be manufactured at the expense of a recluse so suddenly
converted to a belief in the happiness of married life!

Of the later years of Alexander Selkirk wo know but little. It would
seom that the gentlo Sophia died some time between 1717 and 1720; that
Selkirk, who entered the royal navy, and rose to the rank of a lieutenant.
married a second time. For towards the end of 1724, or about the beginning
of 1725, his widow, Frances Candis by name, mado her appearance in
Largo, to claim the property left to Alexander by his father—a house at or
near the Craigie Well. She duly proved her marriage betore the proper
authorities; the will, which was dated December 12,1720; and her hus-

_ band’s death on board H.M.S. Weymouth, 1728. Her claims having been
adjusted, she left Largo.

The various relics which Selkirk had left behind him were greatly valued
by his frionds, and his sea-chest, his shell-cup, and his flip-can, inscribed—

. “Alexander Selkirk, this is my can.

e a ® .

When you take me on board of ship,
Pray, fill me with punch or flip ; °"—

those, and other memorials of the solitary of Juan Fernandez island, are
now preserved in the Museum of Science and Arts, Edinburgh. But so long
us “ Robinson Crusoe” is read, and Englishmen retain aught of the old
Norse spirit of adventure, Alexander Selkirk will not be forgotten.

ign: 41
640 WOODFS ROGERS’S NARRATIVE.

I.

NARRATIVE OF SELKIRK’S RESIDENCK ON THE
ISLAND OF JUAN FERNANDEZ,

FROM A SORUISING VOYAGE ROUND THE WORLD. BY CAPTAIN WoOoDKS
ROGERS. LONDON, 1712.”

On Vobruary 1, 1709, wo camo before the island of Juan Fernandez,
having had a good observation the day before, and found our latitude to
be 84° 10% south. In tho afternoon we hoisted ont our pinnace; and
Captain Dover, with the boat's crew, went in her to go ashore, though
wo could not bo less than four leagues off. As soon as tho pinnace was gone,
I wont on board the Pyehess, who admired our boat attempting going ashore
at that distance from land. It was against my inclination; but, to oblige
Captain Dover, IT let her go. As soon as it was dark wo saw a light ashore,
Onur boat was then about a league off the island, and bore away for the
ships as soon as sho saw the lights. We put our lights aboard for the boat,
thongh some were of opinion the lights we saw were our boat's lights; but,
as night eamo on, it appeared too large for that. Wo tired our quarter-dock
gun and several muskets, showing lights in our mizzon and fore-shrouds,
that our boat might find us whilst we were in the leo of the island. | About
two in the morning our boat came on board, having been two hours on board
the Duchess, that took them up astern of us. Wo were glad they got well off,
hoeanse it began to blow. Wo were all convinced the light was on the
shore, and designod to mako our ships ready to engage, believing them to be
French ships at anchor, and we must. either fight thom or want water, All
this stir and apprehonsion arose, as we afterwards found, from one poor,
naked man, who passed in our imagination, at present, for a Spanish garri-
son, a body of Frenchmen, or a crew of pirates. While woe were under these
apprehensions woe stood on the back sido of tho island, in order to fall in
with the southerly wind, till we were past the island; and then we came
back to it again, and ran close aboard the land that hegins to make the
north-east side,

Wo still continued to reason upon this matter; and if is in a manner in-
credible what strange notions many of our people entertained from tho sight
of tho fire upon tho island. It served, however, to show people’s tempers
and spirits; and woe were ablo to give a tolerable guess how our men would
behave, in case there were really any enemies upon the island, The flaws
came heavy off the shore, and wo were forced to reef our topsails when we
openod the middle bay, where we expected to have found our enemy; but
snw all clear, and no ships, nor in the other bay next the north-east end.
These two bays are all that ships ride in which recruit on this island; but
WOODES ROGERS’S NARRATIVE, 641

the middlo bay is by much the best. Wo guessed there had boon shipa
thoro, but that they wore gono on sight of us. Wo sent our yawl ashore
about noon, with Captain Dover, Mr. Fry, and six men, all armed ; mean-
whilo, wo and tho Duchess kopt turning to got in, and such hoavy flaws came
off tho land, that wo were forced to let go our topsnil shoot, keeping all
hands to stand by our sails, for fear of tho winds carrying them away. But,
whon tho flaws were gono, wo had little or no wind. These flaws proceeded
from the land, which is very high in the middle of tho island. Our boat did
not return; wo sent our pinnace, with the men armed, to seo what was the
ocension of the yawl's stay; for wo wore afraid that the Spaniards had a
garrison there, and might have seized them, Wo put out a signal for our
boat, and the Duchess showed a Fronch ensign. Tmmediately our pinnace
returned from the shore, and brought abundance of cray-fish, with a man
clothed in goats’ skins, who looked wilder than tho first owners of them.
Ho had been on the island four years and four months, being left there by
Captain Stradling in tho Cinque Ports, His namo was Alexander Selkirk, a
Scotchman, who had beon master of the Cinque Ports, a ship that camo hore
last with Captain Dampior, who told mo that this was the best man in her.
bimmedintely agroed with him to be a mate on board our ship. It was he
{hat mado tho fire last night when he saw our ships, which he judged to be
Inglish, During his stay here ho saw several ships pass by, but only two
camo to anchor. As he went to viow them, ho found them to be Spaniards,
and retired from them, upon which they shot at him. Had they been French
he would have submitted ; but chose to risk his dying alono on the island
rathor than fall into the hands of Spaniards in these parts; because he ap-
prohended they would murder him, or make a slave of him in the mines ;
for he feared they would sparo no stranger that might be capable of dis
covering the South Seas,

The Spaniards had landed before he knew what they were, and they came
so noar him that ho had much ado to escape: for they not only shot at him,
but pursued him through the woods, where ho climbed to the top of a tree,
at tho foot of which they killed several goats just by, but went off again
without discovering him. He told us that he was born in Scotland, and was
bred a sailor from his youth, The reason of his being left there was a dif-
ference between him and his captain; which, together with the ship's being
leaky, made him willing rather to stay here than go along with him at first ;
but when ho was at last willing to go, the captain would not receive him. He
had been at the island before, to wood and water, when two of the ship's
company were left upon it for six months, till the ships returned, being
chased thence by two French South Seaships. Ho had with him his clothes
and bedding, with a firelock, some powder, bullets, and tobacco, a hatchet, a
knife, a kettle, a Bible, some practical pieces, and his mathematical instru-
ments and books. He diverted and provided for himself as well as he could
but, for the first eight months, had much ado to bear up against melancholy,
642 SELKIRK AS A SOLITARY,

and tho terror of being left alone in such a desolate place. He built twe
huts with pimonto-trees, covered with long grass, and lined them with the
skins of goats, which he killed with his gun as he wanted, so long as his
powder lasted, which was but a pound; and that being almost spent, he got
fire hy rubbing two sticks of pimento-wood together upon his knee. In the
lesser hut, at some distance from the other, he dressed his victuals; and in
the larger ho slept, and employed himself in reading, singing psalms, and
praying; so that, he said, he was a better Christian while in this solitude
than ever ho was before, or than, ho was afraid, he should ever be again,
At first ho nover ato anything till hunger constrained him, partly for
grief, and partly for want of bread and salt; nor did he go to bed till he
could watch no longer: the pimento-wood, which burned very clear, served
him both for firo and candle, and refreshed him with its fragrant smell, He
might have had fish enough, but would not eat them for want of salt,
because they oecasioned a looseness, except cray-fish, which are as large as
our lobsters, and very good. These he sometimes boiled, and at other times
broiled, as he did his goats’ flesh, of which he made very good broth, for
they are not so rank as ows. He kept an account of five hundred that he
killed while there, and caught as many more, which he marked on tho ear
and let go. When his powder failed, ho took them by speed of foot ; for his
way of living—continual exercise in walking and running—bared him of all
gross humours; so that he ran with wonderful swiftness through the woods,
and up the rocks and hills, as we perceived when we employed him to catch
goats for us. We had a bull-dog, which we sent with several of our nim blest
runnors, to help him in catching goats; but he distanced and tired both the
dog and the men, caught the goats, and brought them to us on his hack.
He told us that his agility in pursuing a goat had once like to have cost him
his life; he pursued it with so much eagerness, that he catched hold of it on
the brink of a precipice, of which he was not aware, the bushes hiding it
from him, so that he fell with the goat down the precipice, a great height,
and was so stunned and bruised with the fall that he narrowly escaped with
his life; and, when he came to his senses, found the goat dead under him.
He lay there about twenty-four hours, and was scarce able to crawl to his

hut, which was about a mile distant, or to stir abroad again in ten
days.

 

He came at last to relish his meat well enough without salt or bread ;
and, in the season, had plenty of good turnips, which had been sown there
by Captain Dampior’s men, and haye now overspread some acres of ground.
He had enough of good cabbage from the cabbage-trees, and seasoned his
meat with the fruit of the pimento-trees, which is the same as Jamaica
pepper, and smells deliciously. He found also a black pepper, called malageta.

He soon wore out all his shoes and clothes by running in the woods; and,
at last, being forced to shift without them, his feet became so hard that he
ran everywhere without difliculty. and it was some time before he could wear
NECESSITY THE MOTHER OF INVENTION, 648

shoes after we found him; for, not being used to any so long, his feet swelled
when he came first to wear them again.

After he had conquered his melancholy, he diverted himself sometimes
with cutting his name on the trees, and the time of his being left, and con-
tinuance there. He was at first much pestered with cats and rats, that bred
in great numbers from some of each species which had got ashore from ships
that put in there to wood and water. The rats gnawed his feet and clothes
whilst he was asleep, which obliged him to cherish the cats with his goats’
flesh, by which many of them became so tame that they would lie about him
in hundreds, and soon delivered him from the rats. He likewise tamed
some kids, and, to divert himself, would now and then sing and dance with
them and his cats; so that, by the favour of Providence and vigour of his
youth, being now but thirty years old, he came at last to conquer all the in-
conveniences of his solitude, and to be very easy.

When his clothes were worn out, he made himself a coat and a cap of
goat-skins, which he stitched together with little thongs of the same that he
cut with his knife. He had no other needle but a nail; and when his
knife was worn to the back, he made others, as well as he could, of some
iron hoops that were left ashore, which he beat thin and ground upon stones.
Having some linen cloth with him, he sewed some shirts with a nail, and
stitched them with the worsted of his old stockings, which he pulled out on
purpose. He had his last shirt on when we found him on the island.

At his first coming on board us, he had so much forgot his language, for
want of use, that we could scarce understand him, for he seemed to speak
his words by halves. We offered him a dram, but he would not touch it,
having drunk nothing but water since his being here; and it was some time
before he could relish our victuals. He could give us an account of no other
product of the island than what we have mentioned, except some black
plums, which are very good, but hard to come at, the trees which bear them
growing on high mountains and rocks. Pimento-trees are plenty here; and
we saw some of sixty feet high, and about two yards thick; and cotton-trees
higher, near four fathoms round in the stock. The climate is so good
that the trees and grass are verdant all the year round. The winter lasts
no longer than June and July, and is not then severe, there being only a
small frost and a little hail, but sometimes great rains. The heat of the
summer is equally moderate, and there is not much thunder or tempestuous
weather of any sort. He saw no venomous or savage creature on the island,
nor any sort of beasts but goats, the first of which had been put ashore here,
on purpose for a breed, by Juan Fernandez, a Spaniard, who settled thore
with some families, till the continent of Chili began to submit to the
Spaniards; which, being more profitable, tempted them to quit this island,
capable, however, of maintaining a good number of people, and being made
su strong that they could not easily be dislodged from thence.
644 COWPER ON ALEXANDER SELKIRK,

Mf.

VERSES SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY
ALEXANDER SELKIRK,

DURING HIS SOLITARY ABODE ON THE ISLAND OF JUAN FERNANDAZ

BY WILLIAM COWPER.,.

1 am monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute ;
From the centre all round to the sea,
Tam lord of the fowl and the brute.
O Solitude! where are the charms
That sages have seen in thy face ?
Better dwell in the midst of alarms,
Than reign in this horrible place.

1 am out of humanity’s reach,
I must finish my journey alone,
Never hear the sweet music of speech —
I start at the sound of my own.
The beasts that roam over the plain
My form with indifference see ;
They are so unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is shocking to me.

Society, friendship, and love,
Divinely bestowed upon man,
Oh, had I the wings of a dove,
How soon would I taste you again |
My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth,
Might learn from the wisdom of age,
And be cheered by the sallies of youth

Religion! what treasure untold
Resides in that heavenly word!
More precious than silver and gold,
Or all that this Earth can afford.
But the sound of the church-going bell
These valleys and rocks never heard,
Ne’er sighed at the sound of a knell,
Or smiled when a Sabbath appeared.
COWPER ON ALEXANDER SELKIRK. 64f

Yo winds, that have made me your sport,
Convey to this desolate shore
Some cordial endearing report
Of a land I shall visit no more.
My friends, do they now and then send
A wish or a thought after me?
Oh, tell me I yet have a friend,
Though a friend I am never to see!

How fleet is a glance of the mind!
Compared with the speed of its flight,
The tempest itself lags behind,
And the swift-winged arrows of light.
When I think of my own native land,
In a moment I seem to be there;
But, alas! recollection at hand
Soon hurries me back to despair,

But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest,
The beast is laid down in his lair;
Even here is a season of rest,
And I to my cabin repair.
There’s mercy in every place,
And mercy, encouraging thought!
Gives even affliction a grace,
And reconciles man to his lot.

IV.

A SPANISH ROBINSON CRUSOK.

Ir is, perhaps, almost unnecessary to say that whatever hints De Foe may
have obtained from Selkirk’s Narrative, there can be no doubt that the
island on which he places his Solitary was not intended for Juan Fernandez.
In the title-page to the first edition of “ Robinson Crusoe,” it is expressly
stated that he lived “eight and twenty years, all alone, in an uninhabited
island on the coast of America, near the mouth of the great river Oroonoque.”’
It is very probable that De Foe, in the composition of his wonderful
romance, gained material from various sources. At all events, as a writer
in “ All the Year Round ” suggests,* he would certainly seem to have been
acquainted with the story of Peter Serrano, a Spanish sailor, who was cast
on one of the cluster now called the Serrano Keys, lying in the Caribbean

* “ all the Year Round,” v. 65-67.
646 A SPANISH ROBLNSON CRUSOK,

Sea, in latitude 14° north, and longitude 80° west; or about two degrees
further south and eighteen degrees further cast than the locality attributed
to Robinson Crusoo’s island by the English novelist. Serrano’s story is con-
tained in tho well-known book, published in 1688.—‘ Tho Royal Comment-
aries of Peru, written originally in Spanish by the Don Gareillassu do Ta
Voga, and rendered into English by Sir Paul Rycant, Kt.” It is so full of
interest that tho reader will thank us for transeribing it in these pages,

Attor narrating his oseape, by swimming, from the wreeked ship, and his
reaching a disconsolate island, without wator, wood, or grass, or anything
for support of human life, Ryeaut continues :—

“ With tho sad thoughts hereof ho passed tho first night, lamenting his
affliction with as many molancholy reflections as wo may imagine capable ta
enter into the mind of a wretch in like extremities. So soon as it grow day
he began to traverso his island, and found on the shore some cockles,
shrimps, and other creatures of like nature, which the sea had thrown up,
and which ho was forced to eat raw, because he wanted fire wherewith to
roast them. And with this small entertainment he passed his time, till
observing somo turtles not far from the shore, ho watched a convenience
until they came within his reach; and then throwing them on their backs
(which is the mannor of taking that sort of fish), he cut the throat, drinking
the blood instead of water; and slicing out the flesh with a knife which was
fastened to his girdle, ho laid the pieces to be dried and roasted by the sun:
the shell he mado use of to rake up rain water, which lay in little puddles,
for that is a country often subject to great and sudden rains. In this
manner he passed tho first of his days by killing all the turtles ho was able,
somo of which were so large that their shells were as big as targets or
bueklers; others were so great that he was not able to stop them on their
way to the sea, so that in a short timo experience taught him which sort he
was able to deal with, and which were too unwieldy for his foree. With his
losser shells he poured water into the greater, some of which contained
twelve gallons: so that having made sufficient: provision of meat and drink,
he began to contrive some way to strike fire, that so he might not only dress
his moat with it, but also make a smoko to give a sign to any ship which
was passing in theso seas. Considering of this invention (for seamen are
much more ingenious in all times of extremity than men bred on land), be
searched everywhere to find out a couple of hard pebbles instead of flint, his
knife serving in placo of a steel, But the island being all covered with a
dead sand, and no stone appearing, ho swam into the sea, and diving often
to the bottom, he at length found a couple of stones fit for his purpose,
which he rubbed together until he got them to an edge; with which being
able to strike fire, he drew some thread out of his shirt, which he worked so
small that it was like cotton, and served for tinder. So that having con
trived a means to kindlo fire, he then gathered a great quantity of sea
weed thrown up by tho waves, which, with the shells of fish and tho planks
A SPANISH ROBINSON CRUSOR. 647

of ships which had been wrecked on these shoals, afforded nourishment for
his fuel; and lest sudden showers should extinguish his fire, he made a
little covering like a small hut with the shells of the largest turtles or
tortoises that he had killed, taking great care that his fire should not go
out. In the space of two months, and sooner, he was as unprovided of all
things as ho was at first; for with the great rains, heat, and moisture of that
climate, his provisions were corrupted ; and the great heat of the sun was
so violent on him, having neither clothes to cover him nor shadow for
shelter, that when he was, as it were, broiled in the sun, he had no remedy
but to run into the sea. In this misery and care he passed three years,
during which time ho saw several ships at sea and often made his smoke ;
but none turned out of their way to see what it meant, for fear of those
shelves and sands which wary pilots avoid with all imaginable cireumspee
tion; so that the poor wretch, despairing of all manner of relief, esteemed it
a mercy for him to die, and arrive at that period which could only put an
end to his miseries. And being exposed in this manner to all weathers, the
hair of his body grew in that manner that he was covered all over with
bristles, the hair of his head and beard reaching to his waist, that he
appeared like somo wild and savage creature.

“At the end of three years Serrano was strangely surprised with the
appearance of a man on his island, whose ship had the night before been
east away upon theso sands, and had saved himself on the plank of a vessel,
So soon as it was day he espied the smoke, and, imagining where it was,
made towards it. So soon as they saw each other, it is hard to say which
was the most amazed, Serrano imagined that it was the devil who came
in the shape of a man to tempt him to despair. The new-comer believed
Serrano to be the devil in his own proper shape and figure, being covered
over with hair and beard; in fine, they were both afraid, flying one from
the other. Peter Serrano cried out as he ran, ‘ Jesus, Jesus, deliver me from
the devil!’ The other, hearing this, took courage, and returning again to
him, called out, ‘ Brother, brother, don't fly from me, for I am a Christian
as thou art!’ and because he saw that Serrano still ran from him, he
repeated tho credo, or apostles’ creed, in words aloud; which, when Serrano
heard, he knew it was no deyil would recite those words, and thereupon
gavo a stop te his flight, and returning to him, with great kindness they
embraced each other with sighs and tears, lamenting their sad estate with-
out any hopes of deliverance. Serrano, supposing that his guest wanted
refreshment, entertained him with such provisions as his miserable life
ufforded; and having a little comforted each other, they began to recount
the manner and occasion of their sad disasters, Then, for the better govern-
ment in their way of living, they designed their hours of day and night to
certain services. Such a time was appointed to kill fish for eating ; such
hours for gathering sea-weeds, fish-bones, and other matters which the sea
threw up, to maintain their constant fire; aud especial care they had te
648 A SPANISH ROBINSON CRUSOK,

observe their watches, and relieve each other at certain hours, so that they
might bo sure thoir firo wont not out, In this mannor they live amicably
together for certiin days; for many did not pass before a quarrel arose
between them, so high that thoy were ready to tight. ‘The oceasion pro-
cooded from some words that one gave the other, that he took not that care
and lnbour as the oxtromity of their condition required; and this difforence
so inereasod (for to such misery do our passions often betray us), that at
longth they separated, and lived apart one from the other, However, in a
short time, having oxperiencod the want of that comfort which mutual
society procures, thoir choler was appoased, aad so they returned to enjoy
commerce and the assistanes whieh friendship and society afforded; in
which condition they passed four years; during all which time they saw
many ships sail near them; yet none would be so charitable or curious as to
bo invited by their smoke and flame; so that, now boing almost desperate,
thoy expected no other remedy besides death to put an end to their miseries,

“ Howovor, at longth a ship, adventuring to pass nearer than ordinary,
ospiod the smoke, and rightly judging that it must be made by some ship-
wrockod porsons escaped to those sands, hoisted out their boat to take them
in, Serrano and his companion readily ran to tho place where they saw the
boat coming; but so soon as tho mariners were approached so noar as to
distinguish the strange figuros and looks of those two mon, they were so
alrightod that they began to row back. But the poor mon eried out; and
that they might believe them not to be devils or evil spirits, they rohoarsed
the erood, and called aloud upon the name of Jesus: with which words the
tnariners returned, took thom into tho boat, and carried them to the ship,
fo the great wondor of all there present, who, with admiration, beheld their
hairy shapes, not Hiko mon but boasts, and with singular ploasure heard them
rolate the story of thoir past misfortunes. The companion died on his
voyage to Spain; but Serrano lived to come thither, from whence he
travelled into Germany, whore the emporor then resided : all which time he
nourished his hair and board, to serve as an evidence and proof of his past
lity. Wheroesoevor he camo, the people prossod as a sight to seo him for
money, Persons of quality, having also the same curiosity, gave him sufli-
ciont to defray his charges; and his Imperial Majesty, having seen and
heard his discourses, bostowed a rent upon him of four thousand pieces of
sight a year, which mako four thousand eight hundred ducats in Peru: and
going to the possession of this income, he died at Panama without further
enjoyment, All this story was related to mo by a gentleman called Garei
Sanchez do Figueron, one who was acquainted with Serrano, and heard it
from his own mouth. And that after he had seen the emperor he then
cut his hair and beard to some convenient length, because it was so long
before, that when ho turned himself in his bed he often lay upon it, whien
incommoded him so much us to disturb his sleep.”
Analptical Endex.

DANIEL Di FOR;

Ciarren to Hin Kancy Yann,

Do Foo's parallel between his life and his
book, 0

“Robinion Crusoe” not wholly, nor much
more than partially, an allegorical nar-
rative, 0

Do Fou's birth and parentage, 10,

His early yoars and xchool xtudles, 10,

Do Foo's freedom from bigotry instanced,
1,

Ho starts in business on hix own account, 11,

Tho politics of the time, 12.

Do Fou joina the standard of the Duke of
Monmouth, 12.

Defoe versus Do Foe, 18.

Under William of Orange, 13,

Tho momorable 4th of November, 14,

 

Cuarren TILA Lire or Struaans,

At Tooting, 15,

Do Foe in commercial diticultios, 15,

An angry eroditor, 15.

Do Koo’s ‘ Essay on Prejects,” 16,

Commissioner of the Glass Duty, and Brick.
maker, 16.

“The True-born Englishman,” 17.

In favour with King William, 18.

Do Foe loses his patron, 19.

“The Mock Mourners,” and the “Shortest
Way with Dissenters,” 19, 20,

Do Foe in the pillory, 20.

His ‘ Hymn to the Pillory,” 21.

In Nowgate, 21.

An Ishmael in politics, 21,

De Foo's celebrated ‘ Review,” 22.

Roleased from prison, 23,

Continued Hterary activity, 23.

De Fou’s power as a realist instanced, 23.

 

A BIOGRAPILY,

The “Apparition of Mrs, Veal,” 2¢

Visit to Scotland, 26,

De Foe and Harley, 25.

Mr. Forater’s oathmate of De Foo's character
ad aman, 26,

 

Cuavren IT, —De For as A Wirrint
or Fiction,

“The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe” ~
ita supposed origin in Alexander Selkirk’s
narrative, 20,

Invention the loading characteristic of the
work, 80,

Criticism on Do Foo's writings by Sir Walter
Scott, 81-83,

By Rousseau, 34,

Ky a writer in the Cornhill Magazine, 84-8€,

By W. Caldwell Roscoe, 36, 37.

By Professor Masson, 87.

By John Forster, 38,

Do Foo as a preface writer, 88.

The sequel to ‘ Robingon Crusoe,” 40.

Its inferiority to its predecessor, 40.

Tho ‘ Momolrs of a Cavalier,” 41.

Its fulness of fire and spirit, 41,

Do Foo's secondary novels, 42.

Characterized by Charles Lamb, 43.

 

Cuavren 1V,—Last Years AND DEaTA,

Do Foo's later pamphlets, 44,

His good fame impugned, 44.

De Foe's own account of his transactions
with the Tories, 44.

Mr. Lee's defence of De Foe quoted, 45,

His later works, 46,

A successful career, 46,

Last years and death, 47.

Biographical authorities, 48
660

ANALYTICAL INDEX.

ROBINSON CRUSOE,

PART THE FIRST.

Crusoe tolls tie story of his birth, family,
and early years, 61, 62

His desire to go to sea, and his father's
counsel against it, 62-55

Ile applies to his mother, and is again dis
suaded, 55, 56.

The tlight from Hull, and the storm at sea,
40-48,

The weather clears, and Crusoe drinks away
his repentance, 68, 69

A second storm, and Crusoe’s consequent
distress, 60-63.

Safe on shore; Crusoe looked upon as a
Jonah, 68, 64

His reluctance to return home, 65.

His voyage to Guinea, and
trader, 66, 67.

Attacked by a Turkish rover of Salleo 5 4
prisoner and a slave, 68, 69.

Fishing excursions with the young Maresco ;
Crusoe’s plan of escape, 70, 71
His preparations and eventual

“G4.

Making for the coast:
atrange monsters, 74, 7

Crusoe and Nury go ashore; they make a
coasting voyage, 70, 77

An adventure with a lion; beating to the
southward, 78, 79.

Their dealings with the savages, 80-82.

A ship in sight ; taken on be 2,

Crusoe meets an honest captain, and si
the Brazils, S4

On shore ; his neighbour the Portuguese,
85, 86.

His friond the captain again, and a profit-
able investment, 86, 87

Crusoe grows wealthy, and correspondingly
unsettled, 88

He begins to trade in negroes, and goes to
sea once more, SY, 20.

More perils on the deep, i 08

Crusoe at sea in an open boat; he is cast
upon the rocks, 94, 95.

He has a narrow escape from drowning, and
lands safe on an island, 06, 07.

His first sensations, 97, 98.

He looks about him, and then goes to sleep
ina tree, 98, 90.

Next morning ; he swims to the wreck of
tho vessel, 00-101.

Loads a raft with various articles taken from
the wreck, 101-103.

Safely moors his raft, and goes on a tour of
discovery, 104, lus.

 

enreer AS

 

SUCCESS,

 

they encounter

    

 

 

  
 

 

His second visit to the wreck ; his posass
sions computed, 106, 107.

Clearing out the wreck ; Crusoe finds money
a drug, 108, 109.

Crusoe beings to provide himself defences
against intruders, LLO 1p.

Killing a she-goat; Crusoe suffers from
nervous depression, U4, 11d.
Crusoe’s actual condition; his

manic, 115, 116,

Things saved and things wanted, 118,

Crusoe weighs the good against the bad; tn
favour of the former, 11), 120,

Crusoe's efforts as a carpenter are now te-
corded, 121, 122

He begins a journal of his doings, 122, 123.

The story of his first days on the island
recapttulated by himself, 123-129.

Crusoe's ingenious expedients in household
affairs, 180, 131,

Discovers some perfeet green barley ; his
thanks to Providence, 131, 182.

He is sensible of shocks of earthquake
133-135,

Determines to form
work, 185, 136,

The wreck comes ashore,
spoils it, 187-189.

Has an attack of ague, and experiences a
terrible dream, 139-141.

Living without God ; Crusoe has. stirrings
of conscience, and becomes repentant,
141-144.

He begins to think about God, and cross:
examines his own heart, 144, 145.

studies the Bible, and gives himself toa
prayer, 146, 147.

Grows hoalthier in mind and body ;
hears the voice of conscience, Ms, Ly).
Ho makes a survey of tho island, 150-154
Crusoe’s building operations ; he gathers ir

the vintage, 154, 145.

His cats; a mournful anniversary, 165, 156.

His sowing, and its successful results, 167.

His trees and hedges; the wet and dry
seasons, 18, 150.

Crusoe as a basket-maker; he takes a sur-
vey of the island, 160-165.

Once more “at home ;" he captures a little
kid, 165, 166,

Close of the second year, 166.

Crusoe’s daily companions, 167,

Suticient for the day the labour thervof
168,

Agricultural operations, 160-172

novel al

a camp, and sets te

and Crusoe de-

he
ANALYTICAL INDEX,

Within doors; a now idea, 172, 173.

Crusoe as a potter, 174-177.

fic begins to think of the prospect of land
from the other side of the island, 1738.

Fails in the matter of his canoe, 179 182.

Beginning of the fourth year; arguments
for contentment, 182, 183

Crusoe’s comfortable retlections, 184-186.

His remarkable days, 187.

Crusoe out at elbow ; his efforts to supply
himself with clothes, 188, 189.

His wonderful umbrella, 189.

His little periagua ; how titted up and pro-
visioned, 190-102,

Crusoe's discoveries ; adrift at sea, 192-195,

Ho gets ashore on the wrong side of the
island, 105, 196,

The apparition of poor Poll, 197.

Crusoo's everyday existence, 198, 199.

His labours as a goat-herd ; how the craft
prospered, 190 202,

lis portrait sketched by himself, 203, 20d.

He goes a journey, 205,

His estates and various resources, 206, 207

Ho sees a footprint on the sand, 208, 200.

His speculations and reflections, 209, 210.

Lhe uneven state of human life, 211.

Crusoe finds comfort in his Bible, but
wavers again, 212, 213.

His wandering thoughts, 214.

[lis preparations for defence, 215-219,

Comes upon the seene of a terrible orgie,
219, 220.

Recovers his spirits; monarch of all he
surveys, 220, 221.

Gives the reins to his imagination,

Ho seeks a place of ambush, 223.

On the watch daily, 224.

More speculation and reflection, 225.

Ho arrives at a wise conclusion ; remains
undisturbed for a time, 226, 227.

Further precautions and further delibera-
tions, 288, 229.

Crusoe aims at security to the destruction
of comfort; a sudden pain and its cause,
230-234.

His twenty-three years of solitude, and
their estimated results, 284, 235.

Discovers the landing of naked savages,
236.

Watches their strange occupations ; sees
them depart by sea, 237.

His alarm revives; his uneasiness of mind,
238, 239.

Hears the report of a gun ; in continued
alarm, 239.

Lights a beacon ; his conjectures, 240, 241.

His craving after the society of his fellow-
creatures, 242,

A wrecked ship and a dead sailor, 242

999

 

66)

Crusoe goes out to the wreck, and derapoile
it, 243-246,

Rack to shore again, 247,

Crusoe and his original sin, 248,

His night-thoughts, 249, 250,

He is absorbed by an idea, and has an extra.
ordinary dream, 261, 262.

Always on the watch ; witnesses a cannibal
orgie, 253-255,

A race for life; Crusoe confronts a savage.
266, 256.

The submission of the savage, and his mode
of ridding himsclf of enemies, 257, 258

The stranger described, 259.

Ile is called Friday, and receives a suit of
clothes, 260, 261.

Crusce indulges in some needless preenu
tions and speculations, 262, 263,

Ho makes it his business to instrnet Friday
in various matters, 263.

Friday is instructed how to shoot, 204, 265,

He makes progress in the civilized arts, 266.

A talk between Crusoe and Friday, 267-270.

Friday is brought acquainted with cortain
theological dogmas, 270-275,

Crusve tells him the story of his shipwreck
and solitude, 275.

And Friday tells of the white men that
came to his country, 276, 277.

Would he care to go home again? 278, 279.

Vriday's love for his master, 280,

Ile and Crusoe build and launch a canoe ;
then fit it with masts and sails, 281-253

Crusoe’s new dock, 283.

More savages ; Crusoe and Friday go out to
battle, 284-288,

They save a white prisoner, 259, 200.

And Friday discovers his father, 201, 202.

His filial devotion described, 202, 203.

Tho peopling of the island, 204.

Friday as cook, 205.

Crusoe consults with his new acquaintances
204-200,

Cutting down trees, 209,

The doings of the harvest season, 300, 801.

The cry is still, They come! 301.

Crusoe and Friday on the look-out, 302,
803.

The value of presentiments, 803.

A boat draws near the shore, 304.

Crusoo watches the strangers, 304, 305.

He prepares to do battle, 306,

And accosts three distressed prisoners, 307.

He makes a bargain with them, 808, 309.

Crusoe and the prisoners defeat the strangers,
310, $11.

Crusoe shows the captain his defences, 311,
Siz,

And the captain tells of the conspiracy
against him, $12, 313.
6A2

They prepare to cut off the rebels’ retreat,
318, 314,

The struggle; securing the prisoners, 814,
S16.

The mutineers’ surprise ; snaring the rebels,
316 -820,

Ro 4
he and the captain

Their submission, 821
Crusoe as governor

recover the ship, 824-4
They congratulate each Bian
Crusoe and the mutinvers
Colonizing the island, 331

 

 

 

THE FURTHER ADVENTURES
PART THE
Crusoe's restlessness, 863
Are there any ghosts? 364
Crusoe's dream, and its results, 865, 866.

His life in) the
death, 867, 868

He returns to London, 369

His old restlessness once more,

Ho leaves England, with Friday

His cargo, 872.

A ship on fre, 8738, 874

The reseno of tho passengers,

Their joy deserihod

The young priest, !

Crusoe's generosity, 880, 381,

The voyage continued, S81, 882

Another vessel, and a famished crew, 882,

SB.

country, and his wife's

870.

art.

 
 

 

  

  

The spectacle of hunger re es

An orphan and his distress

Of the mouth of the Orinoco, 3s

Friday and his father, 390, 391

On the ishind once more, $92

The Spaniard’s story, 893 395,

The breaking out of strife, 896,

The escape of the mutineers, 397,

The two Englishinen versus the three,
400,

The Spaniards interfere in the quarrel, 401,

The birds have flown, 402

The three do some wild things, 403, 404

They are disarmed, and a docision arrived
at, 405,

Peace is coneluded, 406.

A fresh alarm is given, 407.

The arrival of the savages, 408.

Preparations for defence, 409.

Friday’s father sent out as a spy, 410.

A battle; the victory with the islanders,
@1L

884-388,

 

  

 

BOS -

 

ANALYTICAL INDEX,

Crusoo leaves it, and visits Lishon, 382, 888

His Brazillian plantation, 884, 335,

His items of proporty enumerated, 887, 338

What noxt? 888, 339.

Ho sets out for home, 840, 341,

His expedition through Spain, 342-344.

Friday and tho wolf, 345-350,

Attacked by wolves, 851-8

Crusoe and the widow, 356,

His soven years of repose, 857, 858,

Ho revisits the island, which he
with a population, 358, 840,

 

 

providor

OF ROBINSON CRUSOR,
SECOND,

\n Interval of tranquillity, 412
Some measures of prudence, 413,
The Indlans again, 415.

Internal dissensions, 416,

Will Atkins ina rage, 417.

The mutineers pardoned, and sent to found

ta.

another colony, 47, 418.
They become weary of well-doing, 419.
They desire new adventures, 420,
They return, and tell their story, 421-424

Their new family, 24, r

Tho choice of wives, 426, 427.

Industry verses indolonce, 428, 420,

More savages arrive, 429, 430,

Three are captured, and one escapes,
ASL.

The two

 

  

 

4n0

Hnglishmen
savages, 432 434,

Anc victory, 435,

An alarm and a pursiit, 436

Tho savages depart, 487, 438

But a second invasion takes place,

The tug of war, 440-44.

Victory of the Anglo-Spaniards,

Cutting off the retreat, 465, 446.

Tho savages subdued, 447. 449.

The colony at peace, 449.

A tent of basket-work, 450-452.

Domestic details minutely described, 452.

Crusoe discourses with the Spaniards, 458
Add,

Their narrative detailed, 4 BS:

Settling a colony; the ee dinner
458, 459.

Tho stores exhibited, 460-462.

The island divided into three colonies, 464

Tho French ecclesinstic, 463.

lis talk with Crusoe, 464, 465,

Ilis various adventures, 465,

attacked by fifty

 

130

Veena

  
ANALYTICAL INDEX.

He and Crusoe discourse on practical Chris-
tinnity, 466, 467.

And on matrimony, 468-470.

The priest discourses further on various
matters, 471-474,

Friday as an interpreter, 474

Crusoe upon matrimony, 475.

Will Atkins is willing to be married, 476.

The priost harangues tho colonists, 477.

Will Atkins has his say, 478, 479.

And becomes repentant, 480, 481.

He and his wifo, 482-484.

The influence of true religion, 484.

Tho priest's distinction between a Protestant
and a Pagan, 485

The virtue of charity, 486.

Will Atkins and the priost, 486-489.

Will and his wife have a sorious conversn-
tion, 490-494,

The new convert baptized, 495.

A Christian marriage, 496.

Another alliance is settled, 497

Vartitioning the land, 498.

How the Indians were disposed of, 499,

And how the island was colonized, 500.

A now instructress for Will Atkins’s wife,
501,

The gift of a Bible; a sister of morcy, 502,
508,

The young woman's story, 503-506.

Crusoe leaves his island, 507.

He proceeds on his adventurous voyage, 508.

But is attacked by savages, 509.

Friday is killed in the engagemont, 510,

How he was revenged, 611, 512.

A sullen prisoner, 612, 613.

Crusoe arrives at Brazil safely, 613.

Ho and his partner, 514.

He sends supplies to the island, 515,

Crusoe's wandering spirit again manifested,
516,

On a wild-goose chase, 517.

Crusoe visits the Cape of Good Hope, and
touches at Madagascar, 518, 519.

Surprised at night, 520, 521

An affray_and its results, 522, 623.

Crusoo’s men thirst for revenge, 524.

They attack the Indian town, 525-527.

A town on firo, 628, 529,

Crusoe's interference resented by the boat-
swain, 580, 531,

The ship sets sail again; the voyage re-
sumed, 532, 583.

The boatswain makes complaints against
Crusoe, 634, 585.

A mutiny breaks out, and Crusoo is left on
shore, 586, 537.

Shall he go trading to China? 538,

He goes up to Suskan, and returns to Ren-
gal, 589.

 

658

Ho moralizes, 540,

And govos a voyage to the Spico Islands
641,

Then he purchases a ship, and sails for
China, 542, 543.

Mistaken for a pirato, 644.

Speaking plain English, 645,

Chased, and attacked by boats, 646, 647.

Tho attack repulsod, 548.

Crusoe finds that he has made an unlucky
purchase, 549.

Tio makes for the coast of ‘Tonquin, 550.

Anxious to escape, 451.

In Tonquin Bay; at work on tho ship, 552,
5S.

A fracas with the natives; paying them
with pitch, 654, 655,

At sea once more, 656, 657.

Crusoe and the pilot, 658-563.

The port of Quinchang, 563.

The influence of fear, 564.

Crusoe has « violent dream, 565.

Consoled by religion, 666, 667.

Crusoe makes the nequaintance of Father
Simon, 568-570,

The pilot brings a Japanese merchant,
671.

Crusoe arranges with his young partner,
572, 573.

He rewards the two men who had helped
him at the Cambodia Rivor, 573, 574.

Somothing about China, 674-576.

Travelling to Pekin, 677, 678.

A Chinese country gontlemen, 578-580.

The arrival at Pekin, 580, 581.

A caravan for Muscovy, 581, 582.

Srusoe joins it, 583.

The expedition sets out, 683, 584.

A China warchouse described, 685,

The groat Chinese wall, 586, 587.

A skirmish with Tartars, 588.

Travelling in Grand Tartary, 589.

srusoe buys a camel, 590.

The caravan attacked by Tartars, 501,

Crusoe brought up before a Chinese magis
trate, 592.

A formidable array, 693.

A shave with the enemy, 594.

In a Christian country, 595.

‘The caravan enters Muscovy, 596, 597.

The famous Tartar idol, 598.

Crusoe sets about its destruction, 590-602.

He succeeds in his design, 602-604.

The natives demand satisfaction, 604, 605,

The caravan sets out on its journey again
605, 606

It is followed by the Muscovites, 606, 607.

Marching from the city of Jarawena, 608

Coming nearer to Europe, 609.

The arrival at Tobolskt, 610.
654 ANALYTICAL INDEX.

Crusoe’s life in Russia, 611, 612
The story of a Siberian exile, 613.
His colloquy with Crusoe, 614-616.
Ways and means in Siberia, 616.
Why not escape? 617.

Crusoe’s proposal to his friend, 618
How it was received, 619, 620.

The uoble sends for his son, 621.

Crusoe leaves Tobolski, 622,

His journey to Europe, 622, 623,

Involved in many dangers, 624.

Attack of the Tartars repulsed, 625,

A retreat by night, 626.

Crusoe arrives at Archangel, 626.

Sails from thence and reaches London in
safety, 627.