<h2>CHAPTER II—INTERVENING HISTORY OF COLONY</h2>
<p>It was in the latitude of 27 degrees 5 minutes N., on the 19th
day of March 1694-95, when we spied a sail, our course SE. and by
S. We soon perceived it was a large vessel, and that she
bore up to us, but could not at first know what to make of her,
till, after coming a little nearer, we found she had lost her
main-topmast, fore-mast, and bowsprit; and presently she fired a
gun as a signal of distress. The weather was pretty good,
wind at NNW. 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 in an indifferent case
for good mariners 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 masts. They told us they expected to have seen the
Bahama Islands, but were then driven away again to the
south-east, by a strong gale of wind at NNW., the same that blew
now: and having no sails to work the ship with but a main course,
and a kind of square sail upon a jury fore-mast, which they had
set up, they could not lie near the wind, but were endeavouring
to stand away for the Canaries.</p>
<p>But that which was worst of all was, that they were almost
starved for want of provisions, besides the fatigues they had
undergone; their bread and flesh were quite gone—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 these were all devoured; and they had seven casks of
rum. There was a youth and his mother and a maid-servant on
board, who were passengers, and thinking the ship was ready to
sail, unhappily came on board the evening before the hurricane
began; and having no provisions of their own left, they were in a
more deplorable condition than the rest: for the seamen being
reduced to such an extreme necessity themselves, had no
compassion, we may be sure, for the poor passengers; and they
were, indeed, in such a condition that their misery is very hard
to describe.</p>
<p>I had perhaps not known this part, if my curiosity had not led
me, the weather being fair and the wind abated, to go on board
the ship. The second mate, who upon this occasion commanded
the ship, had been on board our ship, and he told me they had
three passengers in the great cabin that were in a deplorable
condition. “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 other part of the coast of America, to have
supplied ourselves; but there was no necessity for that.</p>
<p>But now they were in a new danger; for they were afraid of
eating too much, even of that little we gave them. The
mate, or commander, brought six men with him in his boat; but
these poor wretches looked like skeletons, and were so weak that
they could hardly sit to their oars. The mate himself was
very ill, and half starved; for he declared he had reserved
nothing from the men, and went share and share alike with them in
every bit they ate. I cautioned him to eat sparingly, and
set meat before him immediately, but he had not eaten three
mouthfuls before he began to be sick and out of order; so he
stopped a while, and our surgeon mixed him up something with some
broth, which he said would be to him both food and physic; and
after he had taken it he grew better. In the meantime I
forgot not the men. I ordered victuals to be given them,
and the poor creatures rather devoured than ate it: they were so
exceedingly hungry that they were in a manner ravenous, and had
no command of themselves; and two of them ate with so much
greediness that they were in danger of their lives the next
morning. The sight of these people’s distress was
very moving to me, and brought to mind what I had a terrible
prospect of at my first coming on shore in my island, where I had
not the least mouthful of food, or any prospect of procuring any;
besides the hourly apprehensions I had of being made the food of
other creatures. But all the while the mate was thus
relating to me the miserable condition of the ship’s
company, I could not put out of my thought the story he had told
me of the three poor creatures in the great cabin, viz. the
mother, her son, and the maid-servant, whom he had heard nothing
of for two or three days, and whom, he seemed to confess, they
had wholly neglected, their own extremities being so great; by
which I understood that they had really given them no food at
all, and that therefore they must be perished, and be all lying
dead, perhaps, on the floor or deck of the cabin.</p>
<p>As I therefore kept the mate, whom we then called captain, on
board with his men, to refresh them, so I also forgot not the
starving crew that were left on board, but ordered my own boat to
go on board the ship, and, with my mate and twelve men, to carry
them a sack of bread, and four or five pieces of beef to
boil. Our surgeon charged the men to cause the meat to be
boiled while they stayed, and to keep guard in the cook-room, to
prevent the men taking it to eat raw, or taking it out of the pot
before it was well boiled, and then to give every man but a very
little at a time: and by this caution he preserved the men, who
would otherwise have killed themselves with that very food that
was given them on purpose to save their lives.</p>
<p>At the same time I ordered the mate to go into the great
cabin, and see what condition the poor passengers were in; and if
they were alive, to comfort them, and give them what refreshment
was proper: and the surgeon gave him a large pitcher, with some
of the prepared broth which he had given the mate that was on
board, and which he did not question would restore them
gradually. I was not satisfied with this; but, as I said
above, having a great mind to see the scene of misery which I
knew the ship itself would present me with, in a more lively
manner than I could have it by report, I took the captain of the
ship, as we now called him, with me, and went myself, a little
after, in their boat.</p>
<p>I found the poor men on board almost in a tumult to get the
victuals out of the boiler before it was ready; but my mate
observed his orders, and kept a good guard at the cook-room door,
and the man he placed there, after using all possible persuasion
to have patience, kept them off by force; however, he caused some
biscuit-cakes to be dipped in the pot, and softened with the
liquor of the meat, which they called brewis, and gave them every
one some to stay their stomachs, and told them it was for their
own safety that he was obliged to give them but little at a
time. But it was all in vain; and had I not come on board,
and their own commander and officers with me, and with good
words, and some threats also of giving them no more, I believe
they would have broken into the cook-room by force, and torn the
meat out of the furnace—for words are indeed of very small
force to a hungry belly; however, we pacified them, and fed them
gradually and cautiously at first, and the next time gave them
more, and at last filled their bellies, and the men did well
enough.</p>
<p>But the misery of the poor passengers in the cabin was of
another nature, and far beyond the rest; for as, first, the
ship’s company had so little for themselves, it was but too
true that they had at first kept them very low, and at last
totally neglected them: so that for six or seven days it might be
said they had really no food at all, and for several days before
very little. The poor mother, who, as the men reported, was
a woman of sense and good breeding, had spared all she could so
affectionately for her son, that at last she entirely sank under
it; and when the mate of our ship went in, she sat upon the floor
on deck, with her back up against the sides, between two chairs,
which were lashed fast, and her head sunk between her shoulders
like a corpse, though not quite dead. 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 her child, as if she would have said they should
take care of him. However, the mate, who was exceedingly
moved at the sight, endeavoured to get some of the broth into her
mouth, and, as he said, got two or three spoonfuls
down—though I question whether he could be sure of it or
not; but it was too late, and she died the same night.</p>
<p>The youth, who was preserved at the price of his most
affectionate mother’s life, was not so far gone; yet he lay
in a cabin bed, as one stretched out, with hardly any life left
in him. He had a piece of an old glove in his mouth, having
eaten up the rest of it; however, being young, and having more
strength than his mother, the mate got something down his throat,
and he began sensibly to revive; though by giving him, some time
after, but two or three spoonfuls extraordinary, he was very
sick, and brought it up again.</p>
<p>But the next care was the poor maid: she lay all along upon
the deck, hard by her mistress, and just like one that had fallen
down in a fit of apoplexy, and struggled for life. Her
limbs were distorted; one of her hands was clasped round the
frame of the chair, and she gripped it so hard that we could not
easily make her let it go; her other arm lay over her head, and
her feet lay both together, set fast against the frame of the
cabin table: in short, she lay just like one in the agonies of
death, and yet she was alive too. 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 hands still; for
she was little less than distracted for a considerable time
after.</p>
<p>Whoever shall read these memorandums must be desired to
consider that visits at sea are not like a journey into the
country, where sometimes people stay a week or a fortnight at a
place. Our business was to relieve this distressed
ship’s crew, but not lie by for them; and though they were
willing to steer the same course with us for some days, yet we
could carry no sail to keep pace with a ship that had no
masts. However, as their captain begged of us to help him
to set up a main-topmast, and a kind of a topmast to his jury
fore-mast, we did, as it were, lie by him for three or four days;
and then, having given him five barrels of beef, a barrel of
pork, two hogsheads of biscuit, and a proportion of peas, flour,
and what other things we could spare; and taking three casks of
sugar, some rum, and some pieces of eight from them for
satisfaction, we left them, taking on board with us, at their own
earnest request, the youth and the maid, and all their goods.</p>
<p>The young lad was about seventeen years of age, a pretty,
well-bred, modest, and sensible youth, greatly dejected with the
loss of his mother, and also at having lost his father but a few
months before, at Barbadoes. He begged of the surgeon to
speak to me to take him out of the ship; for he said the cruel
fellows had murdered his mother: and indeed so they had, that is
to say, passively; for they might have spared a small sustenance
to the poor helpless widow, though it had been but just enough to
keep her alive; but hunger knows no friend, no relation, no
justice, no right, and therefore is remorseless, and capable of
no compassion.</p>
<p>The surgeon told him how far we were going, and that it would
carry him away from all his friends, and put him, perhaps, in as
bad circumstances almost as those we found him in, that is to
say, starving in the world. He said it mattered not whither
he went, if he was but delivered from the terrible crew that he
was among; that the captain (by which he meant me, for he could
know nothing of my nephew) had saved his life, and he was sure
would not hurt him; and as for the maid, he was sure, if she came
to herself, she would be very thankful for it, let us carry them
where we would. The surgeon represented the case so
affectionately to me that I yielded, and we took them both on
board, with all their goods, except eleven hogsheads of sugar,
which could not be removed or come at; and as the youth had a
bill of lading for them, I made his commander sign a writing,
obliging himself to go, as soon as he came to Bristol, to one Mr.
Rogers, a merchant there, to whom the youth said he was related,
and to deliver a letter which I wrote to him, and all the goods
he had belonging to the deceased widow; which, I suppose, was not
done, for I could never learn that the ship came to Bristol, but
was, as is most probable, lost at sea, being in so disabled a
condition, and so far from any land, that I am of opinion the
first storm she met with afterwards she might founder, for she
was leaky, and had damage in her hold when we met with her.</p>
<p>I was now in the latitude of 19 degrees 32 minutes, and had
hitherto a tolerable voyage as to weather, though at first the
winds had been contrary. I shall trouble nobody with the
little incidents of wind, weather, currents, &c., on the rest
of our voyage; but to shorten my story, shall observe that I came
to my old habitation, the island, on the 10th of April
1695. It was with no small difficulty that I found the
place; for as I came to it and went to it before on the south and
east side of the island, coming from the Brazils, so now, coming
in between the main and the island, and having no chart for the
coast, nor any landmark, I did not know it when I saw it, or,
know whether I saw it or not. We beat about a great while,
and went on shore on several islands in the mouth of the great
river Orinoco, but none for my purpose; only this I learned by my
coasting the shore, that I was under one great mistake before,
viz. that the continent which I thought I saw from the island I
lived in was really no continent, but a long island, or rather a
ridge of islands, reaching from one to the other side of the
extended mouth of that great river; and that the savages who came
to my island were not properly those which we call Caribbees, but
islanders, and other barbarians of the same kind, who inhabited
nearer to our side than the rest.</p>
<p>In short, I visited several of these islands to no purpose;
some I found were inhabited, and some were not; on one of them I
found some Spaniards, and thought they had lived there; but
speaking with them, found they had a sloop lying in a small creek
hard by, and came thither to make salt, and to catch some
pearl-mussels if they could; but that they belonged to the Isle
de Trinidad, which lay farther north, in the latitude of 10 and
11 degrees.</p>
<p>Thus coasting from one island to another, sometimes with the
ship, sometimes with the Frenchman’s shallop, which we had
found a convenient boat, and therefore kept her with their very
good will, at length I came fair on the south side of my island,
and presently knew the very countenance of the place: so I
brought the ship safe to an anchor, broadside with the little
creek where my old habitation was. As soon as I 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, “Oh yes, Oh there, Oh yes, Oh there!”
pointing to our old habitation, and fell dancing and capering
like a mad fellow; and I had much ado to keep him from jumping
into the sea to swim ashore to the place.</p>
<p>“Well, Friday,” says I, “do you think we
shall find anybody here or no? and do you think we shall 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?
are you troubled because you may see your father?”
“No, no,” says he, shaking his head, “no see
him more: no, never more see him again.” “Why
so, Friday? how do you know that?” “Oh no, Oh
no,” says Friday, “he long ago die, long ago; he much
old man.” “Well, well, 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 to the
hill just above my old house; and though we lay half a league
off, he cries out, “We see! we see! yes, we see much man
there, and there, and there.” I looked, but I saw
nobody, no, not with a perspective glass, which was, I suppose,
because I could not hit the place: for the fellow was right, as I
found upon inquiry the next day; and there were five or six men
all together, who stood to look at the ship, not knowing what to
think of us.</p>
<p>As soon as Friday told me he saw people, I caused the English
ancient to be spread, and fired three guns, to give them notice
we were friends; and in about a quarter of an hour after we
perceived a smoke arise from the side of the creek; so I
immediately ordered the boat out, taking Friday with me, and
hanging out a white flag, I went directly on shore, taking with
me the young friar I mentioned, to whom I had told the story of
my living there, and the manner of it, and every particular both
of myself and those I left there, and who was on that account
extremely desirous to go with me. We had, besides, about
sixteen men well armed, if we had found any new guests there
which we did not know of; but we had no need of weapons.</p>
<p>As we went on shore upon the tide of flood, near high water,
we rowed directly into the creek; and the first man I fixed my
eye upon was the Spaniard whose life I had saved, and whom I knew
by his face perfectly well: as to his habit, I shall describe it
afterwards. I ordered nobody to go on shore at first but
myself; but there was no keeping Friday in the boat, for the
affectionate creature had spied his father at a distance, a good
way off the Spaniards, where, indeed, I saw nothing of him; and
if they had not let him go ashore, he would have jumped into the
sea. 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 shed tears, in spite of the firmest resolution, to have seen
the first transports 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 lay down
on the ground, and stroked his legs, and kissed them, and then
got up again and stared at him; one would have thought the fellow
bewitched. But it would have made a dog laugh the next day
to see how his passion ran out another way: in the morning he
walked along the shore with his father several hours, always
leading him by the hand, as if he had been a lady; and every now
and then he would come to the boat to fetch something or other
for him, either a lump of sugar, a dram, a biscuit, or something
or other that was good. In the afternoon his frolics ran
another way; for then he would set the old man down upon the
ground, and dance about him, and make a thousand antic gestures;
and all the while he did this he would be talking to him, and
telling him one story or another of his travels, and of what had
happened to him abroad to divert him. In short, if the same
filial affection was to be found in Christians to their parents
in our part of the world, one would be tempted to say there would
hardly have been any need of the fifth commandment.</p>
<p>But this is a digression: I return to my landing. It
would be needless 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 not only did not know me at
first, but he had no thoughts, no notion of its being me that was
come, till I spoke to him. “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, saying something in Spanish that
I did not perfectly hear, came forward and embraced me, telling
me he was inexcusable not to know that face again that he had
once seen, as of an angel from heaven sent to save his life; he
said abundance of very handsome things, as a well-bred Spaniard
always knows how, and then, beckoning to the person that attended
him, bade him go and call out his comrades. He then asked
me if I would walk to my old habitation, where he would give me
possession of my own house again, and where I should see they had
made but mean improvements. I walked along with him, but,
alas! I could no more find the place than if I had never been
there; for they had planted so many trees, and placed them in
such a position, so thick and close to one another, and in ten
years’ time they were grown so big, that the place was
inaccessible, except by such windings and blind ways as they
themselves only, who made them, could find.</p>
<p>I asked them what put them upon all these fortifications; he
told me I would say there was need enough of it when they had
given me an account how they had passed their time since their
arriving in the island, especially after they had the misfortune
to find that I was gone. He told me he could not but have
some pleasure in my good fortune, when he heard that I was gone
in a good ship, and to my satisfaction; and that he had
oftentimes a strong persuasion that one time or other he should
see me again, but nothing that ever befell him in his life, he
said, was so surprising and afflicting to him at first as the
disappointment he was under when he came back to the island and
found I was not there.</p>
<p>As to the three barbarians (so he called them) that were left
behind, and of whom, he said, he had a long story to tell me, the
Spaniards all thought themselves much better among the savages,
only that their number was so small: “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, forced by
necessity, we were obliged for our own preservation to disarm
them, and make them our subjects, as they would not be content
with being moderately our masters, but would be our
murderers.” I answered I was afraid of it when I left
them there, and nothing troubled me at my parting from the island
but that they were not come back, that I might have put them in
possession of everything first, and left the others in a state of
subjection, as they deserved; but if they had reduced them to it
I was very glad, and should be very far from finding any fault
with it; for I knew they were a parcel of refractory, ungoverned
villains, and were fit for any manner of mischief.</p>
<p>While I was saying this, the man came whom he had sent back,
and with him eleven more. In the dress they were in it was
impossible to guess what nation they were of; but he made all
clear, both to them and to me. 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 ordinary fellows, and the like, but really as if they had
been ambassadors or noblemen, and I a monarch or great conqueror:
their behaviour was, to the last degree, obliging and courteous,
and yet mixed with a manly, majestic gravity, which very well
became them; and, in short, they had so much more manners than I,
that I scarce knew how to receive their civilities, much less how
to return them in kind.</p>
<p>The history of their coming to, and conduct in, the island
after my going away is so very remarkable, and has so many
incidents which the former part of my relation will help to
understand, and which will in most of the particulars, refer to
the account I have already given, that I cannot but commit them,
with great delight, to the reading of those that come after
me.</p>
<p>In order to do this as intelligibly as I can, I must go back
to the circumstances in which I left the island, and the persons
on it, of whom I am to speak. And first, it is necessary to
repeat that I had sent away Friday’s father and the
Spaniard (the two whose lives I had rescued from the savages) in
a large canoe to the main, as I then thought it, to fetch over
the Spaniard’s companions that he left behind him, in order
to save them from the like calamity that he had been in, and in
order to succour them for the present; and that, if possible, we
might together find some way for our deliverance
afterwards. 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
foreknowledge of what afterwards happened, I mean, of an English
ship coming on shore there to fetch me off; and it could not be
but a very great surprise to them, when they came back, not only
to find that I was gone, but to find three strangers left on the
spot, possessed of all that I had left behind me, which would
otherwise have been their own.</p>
<p>The first thing, however, which I inquired into, that I might
begin where I left off, was of their own part; and I desired the
Spaniard would give me a particular account of his voyage back to
his countrymen with the boat, when I sent him to fetch them
over. He told me there was little variety in that part, for
nothing remarkable happened to them on the way, having had very
calm weather and a smooth sea. As for his countrymen, it
could not be doubted, he said, but that they were overjoyed to
see him (it seems he was the principal man among them, the
captain of the vessel they had been shipwrecked in having been
dead some time): they were, he said, the more surprised to see
him, because they knew that he was fallen into the hands of the
savages, who, they were satisfied, would devour him as they did
all the rest of their prisoners; that when he told them the story
of his deliverance, and in what manner he was furnished for
carrying them away, it was like a dream to them, and their
astonishment, he said, was somewhat like that of Joseph’s
brethren when he told them who he was, and the story of his
exaltation in Pharaoh’s court; but when he showed them the
arms, the powder, the ball, the provisions that he brought them
for their journey or voyage, they were restored to themselves,
took a just share of the joy of their deliverance, and
immediately prepared to come away with him.</p>
<p>Their first business was to get canoes; and in this they were
obliged not to stick so much upon the honesty of it, but to
trespass upon their friendly savages, and to borrow two large
canoes, or periaguas, on pretence of going out a-fishing, or for
pleasure. In these they came away the next morning.
It seems they wanted no time to get themselves ready; for they
had neither clothes nor provisions, nor anything in the world but
what they had on them, and a few roots to eat, of which they used
to make their bread. They were in all three weeks absent;
and in that time, unluckily for them, I had the occasion offered
for my escape, as I mentioned in the other part, and to get off
from the island, leaving three of the most impudent, hardened,
ungoverned, disagreeable villains behind me that any man could
desire to meet with—to the poor Spaniards’ great
grief and disappointment.</p>
<p>The only just thing the rogues did was, that when the
Spaniards came ashore, they gave my letter to them, and gave them
provisions, and other relief, as I had ordered them to do; also
they gave them the long paper of directions which I had left with
them, containing the particular methods which I took for managing
every part of my life there; the way I baked my bread, bred up
tame goats, and planted my corn; how I cured my grapes, made my
pots, and, in a word, everything I did. All this being
written down, they gave to the Spaniards (two of them understood
English well enough): nor did they refuse to accommodate the
Spaniards with anything else, for they agreed very well for some
time. They gave them an equal admission into the house or
cave, and they began to live very sociably; and the head
Spaniard, who had seen pretty much of my methods, together with
Friday’s father, managed all their affairs; but as for the
Englishmen, they did nothing but ramble about the island, shoot
parrots, and catch tortoises; and when they came home at night,
the Spaniards provided their suppers for them.</p>
<p>The Spaniards would have been satisfied with this had the
others but let them alone, which, however, they could not find in
their hearts to do long: but, like the dog in the manger, they
would not eat themselves, neither would they let the others
eat. 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 relation of it came from the
Spaniards themselves, whom I may call the accusers, yet when I
came to examine the fellows they could not deny a word of it.</p>
<p>But before I come to the particulars of this part, I must
supply a defect in my former relation; and this was, I forgot to
set down among the rest, that just as we were weighing the anchor
to set sail, there happened a little quarrel on board of our
ship, which I was once afraid would have turned to a second
mutiny; nor was it appeased till the captain, rousing up his
courage, and taking us all to his assistance, parted them by
force, and making two of the most refractory fellows prisoners,
he laid them in irons: and as they had been active in the former
disorders, and let fall some ugly, dangerous words the second
time, he threatened to carry them in irons to England, and have
them hanged there for mutiny and running away with the
ship. This, it seems, though the captain did not intend to
do it, frightened some other men in the ship; and some of them
had put it into the head of the rest that the captain only gave
them good words for the present, till they should come to same
English port, and that then they should be all put into gaol, and
tried for their lives. 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 that were in
irons to be released and forgiven.</p>
<p>But this mutiny had brought us to an anchor for that night;
the wind also falling calm next morning, we found that our two
men who had been laid in irons had stolen each of them a musket
and some other weapons (what powder or shot they had we knew
not), and had taken the ship’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 destroyed their plantations, burned all
their household stuff and furniture, and left them to shift
without it; but having no orders, he let it all alone, left
everything as he found it, and bringing the pinnace way, came on
board without them. These two men made their number five;
but the other three villains were so much more wicked than they,
that after they had been two or three days together they turned
the two newcomers out of doors to shift for themselves, and would
have nothing to do with them; nor could they for a good while be
persuaded to give them any food: as for the Spaniards, they were
not yet come.</p>
<p>When the Spaniards came first on shore, the business began to
go forward: the Spaniards would have persuaded the three English
brutes to have taken in their countrymen again, that, as they
said, they might be all one family; but they would not hear of
it, so the two poor fellows lived by themselves; and finding
nothing but industry and application would make them live
comfortably, they pitched their tents on the north shore of the
island, but a little more to the west, to be out of danger of the
savages, who always landed on the east parts of the island.
Here they built them two huts, one to lodge in, and the other to
lay up their magazines and stores in; and the Spaniards having
given them some corn for seed, and some of the peas which I had
left them, they dug, planted, and enclosed, after the pattern I
had set for them all, and began to live pretty well. 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 such other preparations as the rice and the milk,
and such little flesh as they got, furnished him to do.</p>
<p>They were going on in this little thriving position when the
three unnatural rogues, their own countrymen too, in mere humour,
and to insult them, came and bullied them, and told them the
island was theirs: that the governor, meaning me, had given them
the possession of it, and nobody else had any right to it; and
that they should build no houses upon their ground unless they
would pay rent for them. The two men, thinking they were
jesting at first, asked them to come in and sit down, and see
what fine houses they were that they had built, and to tell them
what rent they demanded; and one of them merrily said if they
were the ground-landlords, he hoped if they built tenements upon
their land, and made improvements, they would, according to the
custom of landlords, grant a long lease: and desired they would
get a scrivener to draw the writings. One of the three,
cursing and raging, told them they should see they were not in
jest; and going to a little place at a distance, where the honest
men had made a fire to dress their victuals, he takes a
firebrand, and claps it to the outside of their hut, and set it
on fire: indeed, it would have been all burned down in a few
minutes if one of the two had not run to the fellow, thrust him
away, and trod the fire out with his feet, and that not without
some difficulty too.</p>
<p>The fellow was in such a rage at the honest man’s
thrusting him away, that he returned upon him, with a pole he had
in his hand, and had not the man avoided the blow very nimbly,
and run into the hut, he had ended his days at once. His
comrade, seeing the danger they were both in, ran after him, and
immediately they came both out with their muskets, and the man
that was first struck at with the pole knocked the fellow down
that began the quarrel with the stock of his musket, and that
before the other two could come to help him; and then, seeing the
rest come at them, they stood together, and presenting the other
ends of their pieces to them, bade them stand off.</p>
<p>The others had firearms with them too; but one of the two
honest men, bolder than his comrade, and made desperate by his
danger, told them if they offered to move hand or foot they were
dead men, and boldly commanded them to lay down their arms.
They did not, indeed, lay down their arms, but seeing him so
resolute, it brought them to a parley, and they consented to take
their wounded man with them and be gone: and, indeed, it seems
the fellow was wounded sufficiently with the blow. However,
they were much in the wrong, since they had the advantage, that
they did not disarm them effectually, as they might have done,
and have gone immediately to the Spaniards, and given them an
account how the rogues had treated them; for the three villains
studied nothing but revenge, and every day gave them some
intimation that they did so.</p>
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