<h2>CHAPTER XV—FRIDAY’S EDUCATION</h2>
<p>After I had been two or three days returned to my castle, I
thought that, in order to bring Friday off from his horrid way of
feeding, and from the relish of a cannibal’s stomach, I
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 it 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,” said I, “stand still;” and made
signs to him not to stir: immediately I presented my piece, shot,
and killed one of the kids. The poor creature, who had at a
distance, indeed, seen me kill the savage, his enemy, but did not
know, nor could imagine how it was done, was sensibly surprised,
trembled, and shook, and looked so amazed that I thought he would
have sunk down. He did not see the kid I shot at, or
perceive I had killed it, but ripped up his waistcoat to feel
whether he was not wounded; and, as I found presently, thought I
was resolved to kill him: for he came and kneeled down to me, and
embracing my knees, said a great many things I did not
understand; but I could easily see the meaning was to pray me not
to kill him.</p>
<p>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 I had killed, beckoned to him to run and fetch
it, which he did: and while he was wondering, and looking to see
how the creature was killed, I loaded my gun again.
By-and-by I saw a great fowl, like a hawk, sitting upon a tree
within shot; so, to let Friday understand a little what I would
do, I called him to me again, pointed at the fowl, which was
indeed a parrot, though I 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 immediately he saw the parrot
fall. He stood like one frightened 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 near or
far off; and the astonishment this created in him was such as
could not wear off for a long time; and I believe, if I 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 he 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 I had shot, which he did, but
stayed some time; for the parrot, not being quite dead, had
fluttered away a good distance from the place where she fell:
however, he found her, took her up, and brought her to me; and as
I had perceived his ignorance about the gun before, I took this
advantage to charge the gun again, and not to let him see 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 fit for that purpose, I boiled or
stewed some of the flesh, and made some very good broth.
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 into my mouth without
salt, and I pretended to spit and sputter for want of salt, as
much as he had done at the salt; but it would not do; he would
never care for salt with meat or in his broth; at least, not for
a great while, and then but a very little.</p>
<p>Having thus fed him with boiled meat and broth, I was resolved
to feast him the next day by roasting a piece of the kid: this I
did by hanging it before the fire on a string, as I had seen many
people do in England, setting two poles up, one on each side of
the fire, and one across 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 understand him: and at last he told me, as well as he could,
he would never eat man’s flesh any more, which I was very
glad to hear.</p>
<p>The next day I set him to work 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 I, 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.</p>
<p>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 piece of land, and began the fence in the same
manner as before, in which Friday worked not only 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 I would tell him what to do.</p>
<p>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 talked 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. 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.</p>
<p>I had a mind once to try if he had any inclination for his own
country again; and having taught him English so well that he
could answer me almost any question, I asked him whether the
nation that he belonged to never conquered in 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:—</p>
<p><i>Master</i>.—You always fight the better; how came you
to be taken prisoner, then, Friday?</p>
<p><i>Friday</i>.—My nation beat much for all that.</p>
<p><i>Master</i>.—How beat? If your nation beat them,
how came you to be taken?</p>
<p><i>Friday</i>.—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 the yonder place, where me no was; there my
nation take one, two, great thousand.</p>
<p><i>Master</i>.—But why did not your side recover you
from the hands of your enemies, then?</p>
<p><i>Friday</i>.—They run, one, two, three, and me, and
make go in the canoe; my nation have no canoe that time.</p>
<p><i>Master</i>.—Well, Friday, and what does your nation
do with the men they take? Do they carry them away and eat
them, as these did?</p>
<p><i>Friday</i>.—Yes, my nation eat mans too; eat all
up.</p>
<p><i>Master</i>.—Where do they carry them?</p>
<p><i>Friday</i>.—Go to other place, where they think.</p>
<p><i>Master</i>.—Do they come hither?</p>
<p><i>Friday</i>.—Yes, yes, they come hither; come other
else place.</p>
<p><i>Master</i>.—Have you been here with them?</p>
<p><i>Friday</i>.—Yes, I have been here (points to the NW.
side of the island, which, it seems, was their side).</p>
<p>By this I understood that my man Friday had formerly been
among the savages who used to come on shore on the farther part
of the island, on the same man-eating occasions 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
presently 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 in a row, and pointing to me to tell them over.</p>
<p>I have told this passage, because it introduces what follows:
that after this discourse I had 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 sea, there was a current
and wind, always one way in the morning, the other in the
afternoon. 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 draft and reflux of the mighty
river Orinoco, in the mouth or gulf of which river, as I found
afterwards, our island lay; and that this land, which I perceived
to be W. and NW., 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 nations were near; he told me all he knew with the
greatest openness imaginable. I asked him the names of the
several nations of his sort of people, but could get no other
name than Caribs; from whence I easily understood that these were
the Caribbees, which our maps place on the part of America which
reaches from the mouth of the river Orinoco to Guiana, and
onwards to St. Martha. 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 country, and were
remembered by all the nations from father to son.</p>
<p>I inquired if he could tell me how I might go from this
island, and get among those white men. He told me,
“Yes, yes, you may go in two canoe.” I could
not understand what he meant, or make him describe to me what he
meant by two canoe, till at last, with great difficulty, I found
he meant it must be in a large boat, as big as two canoes.
This part of Friday’s discourse I began to relish 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.</p>
<p>During the long time that Friday had 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 I asked him one time, who made him. The
creature did not understand me at all, but thought I had asked
who was his father—but I took it up 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 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 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 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 Benamuckee.” Then I
asked him whether those they eat up went thither too. He
said, “Yes.”</p>
<p>From these things, I began to instruct him in the knowledge of
the true God; I told him that the great Maker of all things lived
up there, pointing up towards heaven; that He governed the world
by the same power and providence by which He made it; that He was
omnipotent, and 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 in 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 till they went up to the great mountains where
he dwelt to speak to them. I 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 among the most blinded, ignorant pagans
in the world; and the policy of making a secret of religion, in
order to preserve the veneration of the people to the clergy, not
only to be found in the Roman, but, perhaps, among all religions
in the world, even among the most brutish and barbarous
savages.</p>
<p>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 spake 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 origin 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, and to adapt his snares to
our inclinations, so as to cause us even to be our own tempters,
and run upon our destruction by our own choice.</p>
<p>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, an overruling, governing Power,
a secret directing Providence, and of the equity and justice of
paying homage to Him that made us, and the like; but there
appeared nothing of this kind in the notion of an evil spirit, of
his origin, 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. I had been talking a great deal to him of the power of
God, His omnipotence, His 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 stronger,
much might as the wicked devil, why God no kill the devil, so
make him no more do wicked?” I was strangely
surprised at this question; and, after all, though I was now an
old man, yet I was but a young doctor, and ill 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 myself 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,
“‘<i>Reserve at last</i>!’ me no
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 or me, when we do wicked things
here that offend Him—we are preserved to repent and be
pardoned.” He mused some time on 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 knowledge of a God, and of a worship
or homage due to the supreme being of God, as the consequence of
our nature, yet nothing but divine revelation can form the
knowledge of Jesus Christ, and of 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.</p>
<p>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 so to
speak to him from the Word of God that 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, viz. of
repentance 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.</p>
<p>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 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 poor wild wretch was 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
have been confined to, I had not only been moved to look up to
heaven myself, and to seek the Hand that had brought me here, but
was now to be made an instrument, under Providence, to save the
life, and, for aught I knew, the soul of a poor savage, and bring
him to the true knowledge of religion and of the Christian
doctrine, that he might know Christ Jesus, in whom is life
eternal; I say, when I reflected upon all these things, a secret
joy ran through every part of My soul, and I 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.</p>
<p>I continued in this thankful frame all the remainder of my
time; and the conversation 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.
This savage was now a good Christian, a much better than I;
though I have reason to hope, and bless God for it, that we were
equally penitent, and comforted, restored penitents. We had
here the Word of God to read, and no farther off from His Spirit
to instruct than if we had been in England. I always
applied myself, in 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 questionings, made me, as I said before, a
much better scholar in the Scripture knowledge than I should ever
have been by my own mere private reading. Another thing I
cannot refrain from observing here also, from experience in this
retired part of my life, viz. how infinite and inexpressible 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 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.</p>
<p>As to all the disputes, wrangling, strife, and contention
which have happened in the world about religion, whether niceties
in doctrines or schemes of church government, they were all
perfectly useless to us, and, for aught I can yet see, they have
been so to the rest of the world. We had the sure guide to
heaven, viz. the Word of God; and we had, blessed be God,
comfortable views of the Spirit of God teaching and instructing
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 of religion, which have made such confusion 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.</p>
<p>After Friday and I became more intimately acquainted, and that
he could understand almost all I said to him, and speak pretty
fluently, though in broken English, to me, I acquainted him with
my own history, or at least so much of it as related to my coming
to this 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.</p>
<p>I described to him the country of Europe, 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 I had been on board of, and showed him, as near as I could,
the place where she lay; but she was all beaten in pieces before,
and gone. I showed him the ruins of our boat, which we lost
when we escaped, and which I 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.” I did not understand him a good
while; but at last, when I had examined further into it, I
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 their escape
from a wreck thither, much less whence they might come: so I only
inquired after a description of the boat.</p>
<p>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 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. He
told upon his fingers seventeen. I asked him then what
became of them. He told me, “They live, they dwell at
my nation.”</p>
<p>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 the sight of my island, as I now called 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 left them alone, and gave them
victuals to live on. 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.</p>
<p>It was after this some considerable time, that being upon 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. This observation of mine put a great many thoughts
into me, which made me at first not so easy about my new man
Friday as I was before; and I 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 I
wronged the poor honest creature very much, for which I was very
sorry afterwards. However, as my jealousy increased, and
held some weeks, I was a little more circumspect, and not so
familiar and kind to him as before: in which I was certainly
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.</p>
<p>While my jealousy of him lasted, you may be sure I was every
day pumping him to see if he would discover any of the new
thoughts which I suspected were in him; but I found everything he
said was so honest and so innocent, that I 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 I was uneasy, and therefore I could not suspect him
of deceit.</p>
<p>One day, walking up the same hill, but the weather being hazy
at sea, so that we could not see the continent, I called 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
I. “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, cattle 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, 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 mans that
came in the boat. Then I asked him if he would go back to
them. He smiled at that, and told me that he could not swim
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.</p>
<p>From this time, I confess, I had a mind to venture over, and
see if I could possibly join with those bearded men, who I made
no doubt were Spaniards and 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, alone and 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 water), I brought it out,
showed it him, and we both went into it. I found he was a
most dexterous fellow at managing it, and would make it go almost
as swift again as I could. So when he was in, I 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 was too small to go so
far. I then told him 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 the 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 so split and
dried it, that it was rotten. Friday told me such a boat
would do very well, and would carry “much enough vittle,
drink, bread;” this was his way of talking.</p>
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