CHAPTER I--REVISITS ISLAND

That homely proverb, used on so many occasions in England, viz. "That

what is bred in the bone will not go out of the flesh," was never more

verified 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 in the world to have been so predominant in my thoughts,

should be worn out, and I might, at sixty one years of age, have been a

little inclined to stay at home, and have done venturing life and fortune

any more.

Nay, farther, the common motive of foreign adventures was taken away in

me, for I had no fortune to make; I had nothing to seek: if I had gained

ten thousand pounds I had been no richer; for I had already sufficient

for me, and for those I had to leave it to; and what I had was visibly

increasing; for, having no great family, I could not spend the income of

what I had unless I would set up for an expensive way of living, such as

a great family, servants, equipage, gaiety, and the like, which were

things I had no notion of, or inclination to; so that I had nothing,

indeed, to do but to sit still, and fully enjoy what I had got, and see

it increase daily upon my hands. Yet all these things had no effect upon

me, or at least not enough to resist the strong inclination I had to go

abroad again, which hung about me like a chronic distemper. In

particular, the desire of seeing my new plantation in the island, and the

colony I left there, ran in my head continually. I dreamed of it all

night, and my imagination ran upon it all day: it was uppermost in all my

thoughts, and my fancy worked so steadily and strongly upon it that I

talked of it in my sleep; in short, nothing could remove it out of my

mind: it even broke so violently into all my discourses that it made my

conversation tiresome, for I could talk of nothing else; all my discourse

ran into it, even to impertinence; and I saw it myself.

I have often heard persons of good judgment say that all the stir that

people make in the world about ghosts and apparitions is owing to the

strength of imagination, and the powerful operation of fancy in their

minds; that there is no such thing as a spirit appearing, or a ghost

walking; that people's poring affectionately upon the past conversation

of their deceased friends so realises it to them that they are capable of

fancying, upon some extraordinary circumstances, that they see them, talk

to them, and are answered by them, when, in truth, there is nothing but

shadow and vapour in the thing, and they really know nothing of the

matter.

For my part, I know not to this hour whether there are any such things as

real apparitions, spectres, or walking of people after they are dead; or

whether there is anything in the stories they tell us of that kind more

than the product of vapours, sick minds, and wandering fancies: but this

I know, that my imagination worked up to such a height, and brought me

into such excess of vapours, or what else I may call it, that I actually

supposed myself often upon the spot, at my old castle, behind the trees;

saw my old Spaniard, Friday's father, and the reprobate sailors I left

upon the island; nay, I fancied I talked with them, and looked at them

steadily, though I was broad awake, as at persons just before me; and

this I did till I often frightened myself with the images my fancy

represented to me. One time, in my sleep, I had the villainy of the

three pirate sailors so lively related to me by the first Spaniard, and

Friday's father, that it was surprising: they told me how they

barbarously attempted to murder all the Spaniards, and that they set fire

to the provisions they had laid up, on purpose to distress and starve

them; things that I had never heard of, and that, indeed, were never all

of them true in fact: but it was so warm in my imagination, and so

realised to me, that, to the hour I saw them, I could not be persuaded

but that it was or would be true; also how I resented it, when the

Spaniard complained to me; and how I brought them to justice, tried them,

and ordered them all three to be hanged. What there was really in this

shall be seen in its place; for however I came to form such things in my

dream, and what secret converse of spirits injected it, yet there was, I

say, much of it true. I own that this dream had nothing in it literally

and specifically true; but the general part was so true--the base;

villainous behaviour of these three hardened rogues was such, and had

been so much worse than all I can describe, that the dream had too much

similitude of the fact; and as I would afterwards have punished them

severely, so, if I had hanged them all, I had been much in the right, and

even should have been justified both by the laws of God and man.

But to return to my story. In this kind of temper I lived some years; I

had no enjoyment of my life, no pleasant hours, no agreeable diversion

but what had something or other of this in it; so that my wife, who saw

my mind wholly bent upon it, told me very seriously one night that she

believed there was some secret, powerful impulse of Providence upon me,

which had determined me to go thither again; and that she found nothing

hindered me going but my being engaged to a wife and children. She told

me that it was true she could not think of parting with me: but as she

was assured that if she was dead it would be the first thing I would do,

so, as it seemed to her that the thing was determined above, she would

not be the only obstruction; for, if I thought fit and resolved to

go--[Here she found me very intent upon her words, and that I looked very

earnestly at her, so that it a little disordered her, and she stopped. I

asked her why she did not go on, and say out what she was going to say?

But I perceived that her heart was too full, and some tears stood in her

eyes.] "Speak out, my dear," said I; "are you willing I should

go?"--"No," says she, very affectionately, "I am far from willing; but if

you are resolved to go," says she, "rather than I would be the only

hindrance, I will go with you: for though I think it a most preposterous

thing for one of your years, and in your condition, yet, if it must be,"

said she, again weeping, "I would not leave you; for if it be of Heaven

you must do it, there is no resisting it; and if Heaven make it your duty

to go, He will also make it mine to go with you, or otherwise dispose of

me, that I may not obstruct it."

This affectionate behaviour of my wife's brought me a little out of the

vapours, and I began to consider what I was doing; I corrected my

wandering fancy, and began to argue with myself sedately what business I

had after threescore years, and after such a life of tedious sufferings

and disasters, and closed in so happy and easy a manner; I, say, what

business had I to rush into new hazards, and put myself upon adventures

fit only for youth and poverty to run into?

With those thoughts I considered my new engagement; that I had a wife,

one child born, and my wife then great with child of another; that I had

all the world could give me, and had no need to seek hazard for gain;

that I was declining in years, and ought to think rather of leaving what

I had gained than of seeking to increase it; that as to what my wife had

said of its being an impulse from Heaven, and that it should be my duty

to go, I had no notion of that; so, after many of these cogitations, I

struggled with the power of my imagination, reasoned myself out of it, as

I believe people may always do in like cases if they will: in a word, I

conquered it, composed myself with such arguments as occurred to my

thoughts, and which my present condition furnished me plentifully with;

and particularly, as the most effectual method, I resolved to divert

myself with other things, and to engage in some business that might

effectually tie me up from any more excursions of this kind; for I found

that thing return upon me chiefly when I was idle, and had nothing to do,

nor anything of moment immediately before me. 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 it was many ways suited to

my inclination, which delighted in cultivating, managing, planting, and

improving of land; and particularly, being an inland country, I was

removed from conversing among sailors and things relating to the remote

parts of the world. I went down to my farm, settled my family, bought

ploughs, harrows, a cart, waggon-horses, cows, and sheep, and, setting

seriously to work, became in one half-year a mere country gentleman. My

thoughts were entirely taken up in managing my servants, cultivating the

ground, enclosing, planting, &c.; and I lived, as I thought, the most

agreeable life that nature was capable of directing, or that a man always

bred to misfortunes was capable of retreating to.

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 which my father so earnestly recommended to me, and

lived a kind of heavenly life, something like what is described by the

poet, upon the subject of a country life:--

"Free from vices, free from care,

Age has no pain, and youth no snare."

But in the middle of all this felicity, one blow from unseen Providence

unhinged me at once; and not only made a breach upon me inevitable and

incurable, but drove me, by its consequences, into a deep relapse of the

wandering disposition, which, as I may say, being born in my very blood,

soon recovered its hold of me; and, like the returns of a violent

distemper, came on with an irresistible force upon me. 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, in a few words,

the stay of all my affairs; the centre of all my enterprises; the engine

that, by her prudence, reduced me to that happy compass I was in, from

the most extravagant and ruinous project that filled my head, and did

more to guide my rambling genius than a mother's tears, a father's

instructions, a friend's counsel, or all my own reasoning powers could

do. I was happy in listening to her, and in being moved by her

entreaties; and to the last degree desolate and dislocated in the world

by the loss of her.

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 first

went on shore there; and as much alone, except for the assistance of

servants, as I was in my island. I knew neither what to think nor what

to do. I saw the world busy around me: one part labouring for bread,

another part squandering in vile excesses or empty pleasures, but equally

miserable because the end they proposed still fled from them; for the men

of pleasure every day surfeited of their vice, and heaped up work for

sorrow and repentance; and the men of labour spent their strength in

daily struggling for bread to maintain the vital strength they laboured

with: so living in a daily circulation of sorrow, living but to work, and

working but to live, as if daily bread were the only end of wearisome

life, and a wearisome life the only occasion of daily bread.

This put me in mind of the life I lived in my kingdom, the island; where

I suffered no more corn to grow, because I did not want it; and bred no

more goats, because I had no more use for them; where the money lay in

the drawer till it grew mouldy, and had scarce the favour to be looked

upon in twenty years. All these things, had I improved them as I ought

to have done, and as reason and religion had dictated to me, would have

taught me to search farther than human enjoyments for a full felicity;

and that there was something which certainly was the reason and end of

life superior to all these things, and which was either to be possessed,

or at least hoped for, on this side of the grave.

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, 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 housekeeping, 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; I had no

relish for the place, no employment in it, nothing to do but to saunter

about like an idle person, of whom it may be said he is perfectly useless

in God's creation, and it is not one farthing's matter to the rest of his

kind whether he be dead or alive. This also was the thing which, of all

circumstances of life, was the most my aversion, who had been all my days

used to an active life; and I would often say to myself, "A state of

idleness is the very dregs of life;" and, indeed, I thought I was much

more suitably employed when I was twenty-six days making 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 Bilbao, being

the first he had made. 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 will 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 idea of things which we form in our minds, perfectly reserved,

and not communicated to any in the world.

My nephew knew nothing how far my distemper of wandering was returned

upon me, and I knew nothing of what he had in his thought to say, when

that very morning, before he came to me, I had, in a great deal of

confusion of thought, and revolving every part of my circumstances in my

mind, come to this resolution, that I would go to Lisbon, and consult

with my old sea-captain; and if it was rational and practicable, I would

go and see the island again, and what was become of my people there. 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 on this unlucky errand?" My nephew stared as if he had

been frightened at first; but perceiving that I was not much displeased

at the proposal, he recovered himself. "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 a few words, if he agreed

with the merchants, I would go with him; but I told him I would not

promise to go any further than my own island. "Why, sir," says he, "you

don't want to be left there again, I hope?" "But," said I, "can you not

take me up again on your return?" He told me it would not be possible to

do so; that the merchants would never allow him to come that way with a

laden ship of such value, it being a month'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,

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. I was not long resolving, for indeed the importunities of my

nephew joined so effectually with my inclination that nothing could

oppose me; on the other hand, my wife being dead, none concerned

themselves so much for me as to persuade me one way or the other, except

my ancient good friend the widow, who earnestly struggled with me to

consider my years, my easy circumstances, and the needless hazards of a

long voyage; and above all, my young children. But it was all to no

purpose, I had an irresistible desire for the voyage; and I told her I

thought there was something so uncommon in the impressions I had upon my

mind, that it would be a kind of resisting Providence if I should attempt

to stay at home; after which she ceased her expostulations, and joined

with me, not only in making provision for my voyage, but also in settling

my family affairs for my absence, and providing for the education of my

children. In order to do this, I made my will, and settled the estate I

had in such a manner for my children, and placed in such hands, that I

was perfectly easy and satisfied they would have justice done them,

whatever might befall me; and for their education, I left it wholly to

the widow, with a sufficient maintenance to herself for her care: all

which she richly deserved; for no mother could have taken more care in

their education, or understood it better; and as she lived till I came

home, I also lived to thank her for it.

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 account while I

stayed, and either to leave them there or carry them forward, as they

should appear willing; particularly, I carried two carpenters, a smith,

and a very handy, ingenious fellow, who was a cooper by trade, and was

also a general mechanic; for he was dexterous at making wheels and hand-

mills to grind corn, was a good turner and a good pot-maker; he also made

anything that was proper to make of earth or of wood: in a word, we

called him our Jack-of-all-trades. With these I carried a tailor, who

had offered himself to go a passenger to the East Indies with my nephew,

but afterwards consented to stay on our new plantation, and who proved a

most necessary handy fellow as could be desired in many other businesses

besides that of his trade; for, as I observed formerly, necessity arms us

for all employments.

My cargo, as near as I can recollect, for I have not kept account of the

particulars, consisted of a sufficient quantity of linen, and some

English thin stuffs, for clothing the Spaniards that I expected to find

there; and enough of them, as by my calculation might comfortably supply

them for seven years; if I remember right, the materials I carried for

clothing them, with gloves, hats, shoes, stockings, and all such things

as they could want for wearing, amounted to about two hundred pounds,

including some beds, bedding, and household stuff, particularly kitchen

utensils, with pots, kettles, pewter, brass, &c.; and near a hundred

pounds more in ironwork, nails, tools of every kind, staples, hooks,

hinges, and every necessary thing I could think of.

I carried also a hundred spare arms, muskets, and fusees; besides some

pistols, a considerable quantity of shot of all sizes, three or four tons

of lead, and two pieces of brass cannon; and, because I knew not what

time and what extremities I was providing for, I carried a hundred

barrels of powder, besides swords, cutlasses, and the iron part of some

pikes and halberds. In short, we had a large magazine of all sorts of

store; and I made my nephew carry two small quarter-deck guns more than

he wanted for his ship, to leave behind if there was occasion; so that

when we came there we might build a fort and man it against all sorts of

enemies. Indeed, I at first thought there would be need enough for all,

and much more, if we hoped to maintain our possession of the island, as

shall be seen in the course of that story.

I had not such bad luck in this voyage as I had been used to meet with,

and therefore shall have the less occasion to interrupt the reader, who

perhaps may be impatient to hear how matters went with my colony; yet

some odd accidents, cross winds and bad weather happened on this first

setting out, which made the voyage longer than I expected it at first;

and I, who had never made but one voyage, my first voyage to Guinea, in

which I might be said to come back again, as the voyage was at first

designed, began to think the same ill fate attended me, and that I was

born to be never contented with being on shore, and yet to be always

unfortunate at sea. Contrary winds first put us to the northward, and we

were obliged to put in at Galway, in Ireland, where we lay wind-bound two-

and-twenty days; but we had this satisfaction with the disaster, that

provisions were here exceeding cheap, and in the utmost plenty; so that

while we lay here we never touched the ship's stores, but rather added to

them. Here, also, I took in several live hogs, and two cows with their

calves, which I resolved, if I had a good passage, to put on shore in my

island; but we found occasion to dispose otherwise of them.

We set out on the 5th of 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; immediately we had recourse to our reckonings, in which we all

agreed that there could be no land that way in which the fire showed

itself, no, not for five hundred leagues, for it appeared at WNW. Upon

this, we concluded it must be some ship on fire at sea; and as, by our

hearing the noise of guns just before, we concluded that it could not be

far off, we stood directly towards it, and were presently satisfied we

should discover it, because the further we sailed, the greater the light

appeared; though, the weather being hazy, we could not perceive anything

but the light for a while. 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.

I was most sensibly touched with this disaster, though not at all

acquainted with the persons engaged in it; I presently recollected my

former circumstances, and what condition I was in when taken up by the

Portuguese captain; and how much more deplorable the circumstances of the

poor creatures belonging to that ship must be, if they had no other ship

in company with them. Upon this I immediately ordered that five guns

should be fired, one soon after another, that, if possible, we might give

notice to them that there was help for them at hand and that they might

endeavour to save themselves in their boat; for though we could see the

flames of the ship, yet they, it being night, could see nothing of us.

We lay by some time upon this, only driving as the burning ship drove,

waiting for daylight; when, on a sudden, to our great terror, though we

had reason to expect it, the ship blew up in the air; and in a few

minutes all the fire was out, that is to say, the rest of the ship sunk.

This was a terrible, and indeed an afflicting sight, for the sake of the

poor men, who, I concluded, must be either all destroyed in the ship, or

be in the utmost distress in their boat, in the middle of the ocean;

which, at present, as it was dark, I could not see. However, to direct

them as well as I could, I caused lights to be hung out in all parts of

the ship where we could, and which we had lanterns for, and kept firing

guns all the night long, letting them know by this that there was a ship

not far off.

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 took them all in, being no less

than sixty-four men, women, and children; for there were a great many

passengers.

Upon inquiry we found it was a French merchant ship of three-hundred

tons, home-bound from Quebec. The master gave us a long account of the

distress of his ship; how the fire began in the steerage by the

negligence of the steersman, which, on his crying out for help, was, as

everybody thought, entirely put out; but they soon found that some sparks

of the first fire had got into some part of the ship so difficult to come

at that they could not effectually quench it; and afterwards getting in

between the timbers, and within the ceiling of the ship, it proceeded

into the hold, and mastered all the skill and all the application they

were able to exert.

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 had, indeed, small hopes of

their lives by getting into these boats at that distance from any land;

only, as they said, that they thus escaped from the fire, and there was a

possibility that some ship might happen to be at sea, and might take them

in. They had sails, oars, and a compass; and had as much provision and

water as, with sparing it so as to be next door to starving, might

support them about twelve days, in which, if they had no bad weather and

no contrary winds, the captain said he hoped he might get to the banks of

Newfoundland, and might perhaps take some fish, to sustain them till they

might go on shore. But there were so many chances against them in all

these cases, such as storms, to overset and founder them; rains and cold,

to benumb and perish their limbs; contrary winds, to keep them out and

starve them; that it must have been next to miraculous if they had

escaped.

In the midst of their consternation, every one being hopeless and ready

to despair, the captain, with tears in his eyes, told me they were on a

sudden surprised with the joy of hearing a gun fire, and after that four

more: these were the five guns which I caused to be fired at first seeing

the light. This revived their hearts, and gave them the notice, which,

as above, I desired it should, that there was a ship at hand for their

help. It was upon the hearing of these guns that they took down their

masts and sails: the sound coming from the windward, they resolved to lie

by till morning. 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 I 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

ecstasies, 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 raging and tearing themselves, as if they

had been in the greatest agonies of sorrow; some stark raving and

downright lunatic; some ran about the ship stamping with their feet,

others wringing their hands; some were dancing, some singing, some

laughing, more crying, many quite dumb, not able to speak a word; others

sick and vomiting; several swooning and ready to faint; and a few were

crossing themselves and giving God thanks.

I would not wrong them either; there might be many that were thankful

afterwards; but the passion was too strong for them at first, and they

were not able to master it: then were thrown into ecstasies, and a kind

of frenzy, and it was but a very few that were composed and serious in

their joy. Perhaps also, the case may have some addition to it from the

particular circumstance of that nation they belonged to: I mean the

French, whose temper is allowed to be more volatile, more passionate, and

more sprightly, and their spirits more fluid than in other nations. I am

not philosopher enough to determine the cause; but nothing I had ever

seen before came up to it. The ecstasies poor Friday, my trusty savage,

was in when he found his father in the boat came the nearest to it; and

the surprise of the master and his two companions, whom I delivered from

the villains that set them on shore in the island, came a little way

towards it; but nothing was to compare to this, either that I saw in

Friday, or anywhere else in my life.

It is further observable, that these extravagances did not show

themselves in that different manner I have mentioned, in different

persons only; but all the variety would appear, in a short succession of

moments, in one and the same person. A man that we saw this minute dumb,

and, as it were, stupid and confounded, would the next minute be dancing

and hallooing like an antic; and the next moment be tearing his hair, or

pulling his clothes to pieces, and stamping them under his feet like a

madman; in a few moments after that we would have him all in tears, then

sick, swooning, and, had not immediate help been had, he would in a few

moments have been dead. Thus it was, not with one or two, or ten or

twenty, but with the greatest part of them; and, if I remember right, our

surgeon was obliged to let blood of about thirty persons.

There were two priests among them: one an old man, and the other a young

man; and that which was strangest was, the oldest man was the worst. As

soon as he set his foot on board our ship, and saw himself safe, he

dropped down stone dead to all appearance. Not the least sign of life

could be perceived in him; our surgeon immediately applied proper

remedies to recover him, and was the only man in the ship that believed

he was not dead. 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, flowing freely, in three

minutes after the man opened his eyes; a quarter of an hour after that he

spoke, grew better, and after the blood was stopped, he walked about,

told us he was perfectly well, and took a dram of cordial which the

surgeon gave him. About a quarter of an hour after this they came

running into the cabin to the surgeon, who was bleeding a Frenchwoman

that had fainted, and told him the priest was gone stark mad. It seems

he had begun to revolve the change of his circumstances in his mind, and

again this put him into an ecstasy of joy. His spirits whirled about

faster than the vessels could convey them, the blood grew hot and

feverish, and the man was as fit for Bedlam as any creature that ever was

in it. The surgeon would not bleed him again in that condition, but gave

him something to doze and put him to sleep; which, after some time,

operated upon him, and he awoke next morning perfectly composed and well.

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, prostrating himself

in thankfulness for his deliverance, in which I unhappily and

unseasonably disturbed him, really thinking he had been in a swoon; but

he spoke calmly, thanked me, told me he was giving God thanks for his

deliverance, begged me to leave him a few moments, and that, next to his

Maker, he would give me thanks also. 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 affection, but with tears in his

eyes, thanked me, that had, under God, given him and so many miserable

creatures their lives. I told him I had no need to tell him to thank God

for it, rather than me, for I had seen that he had done that already; but

I added that it was nothing but what reason and humanity dictated to all

men, and that we had as much reason as he to give thanks to God, who had

blessed us so far as to make us the instruments of His mercy to so many

of His creatures. After this the young priest applied himself to his

countrymen, and laboured to compose them: he persuaded, entreated,

argued, reasoned with them, and did his utmost to keep them within the

exercise of their reason; and with some he had success, though others

were for a time out of all government of themselves.

I cannot help committing this to writing, as perhaps it may be useful to

those into whose hands it may fall, for guiding themselves in the

extravagances of their passions; for if an excess of joy can carry men

out to such a length beyond the reach of their reason, what will not the

extravagances of anger, rage, and a provoked mind carry us to? 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 somewhat disordered by these extravagances among our new guests

for the first day; but after they had retired to lodgings provided for

them as well as our ship would allow, and had slept heartily--as most of

them did, being fatigued and frightened--they were quite another sort of

people the next day. Nothing of good manners, or civil acknowledgments

for the kindness shown them, was wanting; the French, it is known, are

naturally apt enough to exceed that way. The captain and one of the

priests came to me the next day, and desired to speak with me and my

nephew; the commander began to consult with us what should be done with

them; and first, they told us we had saved their lives, so all they had

was little enough for a return to us for that kindness received. The

captain said they had saved some money and some things of value in their

boats, caught hastily out of the flames, and if we would accept it they

were ordered to make an offer of it all to us; they only desired to be

set on shore somewhere in our way, where, if possible, they might get a

passage to France. My nephew wished to accept their money at first word,

and to consider what to do with them afterwards; but I overruled him in

that part, for I knew what it was to be set on shore in a strange

country; and if the Portuguese captain that took me up at sea had served

me so, and taken all I had for my deliverance, I must have been starved,

or have been as much a slave at the Brazils as I had been at Barbary, the

mere being sold to a Mahometan excepted; and perhaps a Portuguese is not

a much better master than a Turk, if not in some cases much worse.

I therefore told the French captain that we had taken them up in their

distress, it was true, but that it was our duty to do so, as we were

fellow-creatures; and we would desire to be so delivered if we were in

the like or any other extremity; that we had done nothing for them but

what we believed they would have done for us if we had been in their case

and they in ours; but that we took them up to save them, not to plunder

them; and it would be a most barbarous thing to take that little from

them which they had saved out of the fire, and then set them on shore and

leave them; that this would be first to save them from death, and then

kill them ourselves: save them from drowning, and abandon them to

starving; and therefore I would not let the least thing be taken from

them. As to setting them on shore, I told them indeed that was an

exceeding difficulty to us, for that the ship was bound to the East

Indies; and though we were driven out of our course to the westward a

very great way, and perhaps were directed by Heaven on purpose for their

deliverance, yet it was impossible for us wilfully to change our voyage

on their particular account; nor could my nephew, the captain, answer it

to the freighters, with whom he was under charter to pursue his voyage by

way of Brazil; and all I knew we could do for them was to put ourselves

in the way of meeting with other ships homeward bound from the West

Indies, and get them a passage, if possible, to England or France.

The first part of the proposal was so generous and kind they could not

but be very thankful for it; but they were in very great consternation,

especially the passengers, at the notion of being carried away to the

East Indies; they then entreated me that as I was driven so far to the

westward before I met with them, I would at least keep on the same course

to the banks of Newfoundland, where it was probable I might meet with

some ship or sloop that they might hire to carry them back to Canada.

I thought this was but a reasonable request on their part, and therefore

I inclined to agree to it; for indeed I considered that to carry this

whole company to the East Indies would not only be an intolerable

severity upon the poor people, but would be ruining our whole voyage by

devouring all our provisions; so I thought it no breach of charter-party,

but what an unforeseen accident made absolutely necessary to us, and in

which no one could say we were to blame; for the laws of God and nature

would have forbid that we should refuse to take up two boats full of

people in such a distressed condition; and the nature of the thing, as

well respecting ourselves as the poor people, obliged us to set them on

shore somewhere or other for their deliverance. So I consented that we

would carry them to Newfoundland, if wind and weather would permit: and

if not, I would carry them to Martinico, in the West Indies.

The wind continued fresh easterly, but the weather pretty good; and as

the winds had continued in the points between NE. and SE. a long time, we

missed several opportunities of sending them to France; for we met

several ships bound to Europe, whereof two were French, from St.

Christopher's, but they had been so long beating up against the wind that

they durst take in no passengers, for fear of wanting provisions for the

voyage, as well for themselves as for those they should take in; so we

were obliged to go on. It was about a week after this that we made the

banks of Newfoundland; where, to shorten my story, we put all our French

people on board a bark, which they hired at sea there, to put them on

shore, and afterwards to carry them to France, if they could get

provisions to victual themselves with. When I say all the French went on

shore, I should remember that the young priest I spoke of, hearing we

were bound to the East Indies, desired to go the voyage with us, and to

be set on shore on the coast of Coromandel; which I readily agreed to,

for I wonderfully liked the man, and had very good reason, as will appear

afterwards; also four of the seamen entered themselves on our ship, and

proved very useful fellows.

From hence we directed our course for the West Indies, steering away S.

and S. by E. for about twenty days together, sometimes little or no wind

at all; when we met with another subject for our humanity to work upon,

almost as deplorable as that before.

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