gave him a full account of the skirmish we had with their boats, and how
foolishly and coward-like they had behaved. I told him all the story of
our buying the ship, and how the Dutchmen served us. I told him the
reasons I had to believe that this story of killing the master by the
Malaccans was not true; as also the running away with the ship; but that
it was all a fiction of their own, to suggest that the men were turned
pirates; and they ought to have been sure it was so, before they had
ventured to attack us by surprise, and oblige us so resist them; adding,
that they would have the blood of those men who were killed there, in
our just defence, to answer for.
The old man was amazed at this relation; and told us, we were very much
in the right to go away to the north; and that if he might advise us, it
should be to sell the ship in China, which we might very well do, and
buy or build another in the country; “And,” said he, “though you will
not get so good a ship, yet you may get one able enough to carry you and
all your goods back again to Bengal, or any where else.”
I told him I would take his advice when I came to any port where I could
find a ship for my turn, or get any customer to buy this. He replied, I
should meet with customers enough for the ship at Nanquin, and that a
Chinese junk would serve me very well to go back again; and that he
would procure me people both to buy one and sell the other.
“Well, but, Seignior,” says I, “as you say they know the ship so well, I
may, perhaps, if I follow your measures, be instrumental to bring some
honest innocent men into a terrible broil, and, perhaps, be murdered in
cold blood; for wherever they find the ship they will prove the guilt
upon the men by proving this was the ship, and so innocent men may
probably be overpowered and murdered.”—“Why,” said the old man, “I’ll
find out a way to prevent that also; for as I know all those commanders
you speak of very well, and shall see them all as they pass by, I will
be sure to set them to rights in the thing, and let them know that they
had been so much in the wrong; that though the people who were on board
at first might run away with the ship, yet it was not true that they had
turned pirates; and that in particular those were not the men that first
went off with the ship, but innocently bought her for their trade; and I
am persuaded they will so far believe me, as, at least, to act more
cautiously for the time to come.”—“Well,” said I, “and will you deliver
one message to them from me?”—“Yes, I will,” says he, “if you will give
it under your hand in writing, that I may be able to prove it came from
you, and not out of my own head.” I answered, that I would readily give
it him under my hand. So I took a pen and ink, and paper, and wrote at
large the story of assaulting me with the long-boats, &c. the pretended
reason of it, and the unjust, cruel design of it; and concluded to the
commanders that they had done what they not only should have been
ashamed or, but also, that if ever they came to England, and I lived to
see them there, they should all pay dearly for it, if the laws of my
country were not grown out of use before I arrived there.
My old pilot read this over and over again, and asked me several times
if I would stand to it. I answered, I would stand to it as long as I had
any thing left in the world; being sensible that I should, one time or
other, find an opportunity to put it home to them. But we had no
occasion ever to let the pilot carry this letter, for he never went back
again. While those things were passing between us, by way of discourse,
we went forward directly for Nanquin, and, in about thirteen days sail,
came to anchor at the south-west point of the great gulf of Nanquin;
where, by the way, I came by accident to understand, that the two Dutch
ships were gone that length before me, and that I should certainly fall
into their hands. I consulted my partner again in this exigency, and he
was as much at a loss as I was, and would very gladly have been safe on
shore almost any where. However, I was not in such perplexity neither,
but I asked the old pilot if there was no creek or harbour, which I
might put into, and pursue my business with the Chinese privately, and
be in no danger of the enemy. He told me if I would sail to the
southward about two-and-forty leagues, there was a little port called
Quinchang, where the fathers of the mission usually landed from Macao,
on their progress to teach the Christian religion to the Chinese, and
where no European ships ever put in: and, if I thought proper to put in
there, I might consider what farther course to take when I was on shore.
He confessed, he said, it was not a place for merchants, except that at
some certain times they had a kind of a fair there, when the merchants
from Japan came over thither to buy the Chinese merchandises.
We all agreed to go back to this place: the name of the port, as he
called it, I may, perhaps, spell wrong, for I do not particularly
remember it, having lost this, together with the names of many other
places set down in a little pocket-book, which was spoiled by the water,
on an accident which I shall relate in its order; but this I remember,
that the Chinese or Japanese merchants we correspond with call it by a
different name from that which our Portuguese pilot gave it, and
pronounced it as above, Quinchang.
As we were unanimous in our resolutions to go to this place, we weighed
the next day, having only gone twice on shore, where we were to get
fresh water; on both which occasions the people of the country were very
civil to us, and brought us abundance of things to sell to us; I mean of
provisions, plants, roots, tea, rice, and some fowls; but nothing
without money.
We came to the other port (the wind being contrary) not till five days;
but it was very much to our satisfaction, and I was joyful, and I may
say thankful, when I set my foot safe on shore, resolving, and my
partner too, that if it was possible to dispose of ourselves and effects
any other way, though not every way to our satisfaction, we would never
set one foot on board that unhappy vessel again: and indeed I must
acknowledge, that of all the circumstances of life that ever I had any
experience of, nothing makes mankind so completely miserable as that of
being in constant fear. Well does the Scripture say, “The fear of man
brings a snare;” it is a life of death, and the mind is so entirely
suppressed by it, that it is capable of no relief; the animal spirits
sink, and all the vigour of nature, which usually supports men under
other afflictions, and is present to them in the greatest exigencies,
fails them here.
Nor did it fail of its usual operations upon the fancy, by heightening
every danger; representing the English and Dutch captains to be men
incapable of hearing reason, or distinguishing between honest men and
rogues; or between a story calculated for our own turn, made out of
nothing, on purpose to deceive, and a true genuine account of our whole
voyage, progress, and design; for we might many ways have convinced any
reasonable creature that we were not pirates; the goods we had on board,
the course we steered, our frankly shewing ourselves, and entering into
such and such ports; even our very manner, the force we had, the number
of men, the few arms, little ammunition, and short provisions; all these
would have served to convince any man that we were no pirates. The
opium, and other goods we had on board, would make it appear the ship
had been at Bengal; the Dutchmen, who, it was said, had the names of all
the men that were in the ship, might easily see that we were a mixture
of English, Portuguese, and Indians, and but two Dutchmen on board.
These, and many other particular circumstances, might have made it
evident to the understanding of any commander, whose hands we might
fall into, that we were no pirates.
But fear, that blind useless passion, worked another way, and threw us
into the vapours; it bewildered our understandings, and set the
imagination at work, to form a thousand terrible things, that, perhaps,
might never happen. We first supposed, as indeed every body had related
to us, that the seamen on board the English and Dutch ships, but
especially the Dutch, were so enraged at the name of a pirate, and
especially at our beating off their boats, and escaping, that they would
not give themselves leave to inquire whether we were pirates or no; but
would execute us off-hand, as we call it, without giving us any room for
a defence. We reflected that there was really so much apparent evidence
before them, that they would scarce inquire after any more: as, first,
that the ship was certainly the same, and that some of the seamen among
them knew her, and had been on board her; and, secondly, that when we
had intelligence at the river Cambodia, that they were coming down to
examine us, we fought their boats, and fled: so that we made no doubt
but they were as fully satisfied of our being pirates as we were
satisfied of the contrary; and I often said, I knew not but I should
have been apt to have taken the like circumstances for evidence, if the
tables were turned, and my case was theirs; and have made no scruple of
cutting all the crew to pieces, without believing, or perhaps
considering, what they might have to offer in their defence.
But let that be how it will, those were our apprehensions; and both my
partner and I too scarce slept a night without dreaming of halters and
yard-arms; that is to say, gibbets; of fighting, and being taken; of
killing, and being killed; and one night I was in such a fury in my
dream, fancying the Dutchmen had boarded us, and I was knocking one of
their seamen down, that I struck my double fist against the side of the
cabin I lay in, with such a force as wounded my hand most gievously,
broke my knuckles, and cut and bruised the flesh, so that it not only
waked me out of my sleep, but I was once afraid I should have lost two
of my fingers.
Another apprehension I had, was, of the cruel usage we should meet with
from them, if we fell into their hands: then the story of Amboyna came
into my head, and how the Dutch might, perhaps, torture us, as they did
our countrymen there; and make some of our men, by extremity of torture,
confess those crimes they never were guilty of; own themselves, and all
of us, to be pirates; and so they would put us to death, with a formal
appearance of justice; and that they might be tempted to do this for the
gain of our ship and cargo, which was worth four or five thousand
pounds, put all together.
These things tormented me, and my partner too, night and day; nor did we
consider that the captains of ships have no authority to act thus; and
if we had surrendered prisoners to them, they could not answer the
destroying us, or torturing us, but would be accountable for it when
they came into their own country. This, I say, gave me no satisfaction;
for, if they will act thus with us, what advantage would it be to us
that they would be called to an account for it? or, if we were first to
be murdered, what satisfaction would it be to us to have them punished
when they came home?
I cannot refrain taking notice here what reflections I now had upon the
past variety of my particular circumstances; how hard I thought it was,
that I, who had spent forty years in a life of continued difficulties,
and was at last come, as it were, at the port or haven which all men
drive at, viz. to have rest and plenty, should be a volunteer in new
sorrows, by my own unhappy choice; and that I, who had escaped so many
dangers in my youth, should now come to be hanged, in my old age, and in
so remote a place, for a crime I was not in the least inclined to, much
less guilty of; and in a place and circumstance, where innocence was not
like to be any protection at all to me.
After these thoughts, something of religion would come in; and I would
be considering that this seemed to me to be a disposition of immediate
Providence; and I ought to look upon it, and submit to it as such: that
although I was innocent as to men, I was far from being innocent as to
my Maker; and I ought to look in, and examine what other crimes in my
life were most obvious to me, and for which Providence might justly
inflict this punishment as a retribution; and that I ought to submit to
this, just as I would to a shipwreck, if it had pleased God to have
brought such a disaster upon me.
In its turn, natural courage would sometimes take its place; and then I
would be talking myself up to vigorous resolution, that I would not be
taken to be barbarously used by a parcel of merciless wretches in cold
blood; that it was much better to have fallen into the hands of the
savages, who were men-eaters, and who, I was sure, would feast upon me,
when they had taken me, than by those who would perhaps glut their rage
upon me by inhuman tortures and barbarities: that, in the case of the
savages, I always resolved to die fighting to the last gasp; and why
should I not do so now, seeing it was much more dreadful, to me at
least, to think of falling into these men’s hands, than ever it was to
think of being eaten by men? for the savages, give them their due, would
not eat a man till he was dead; and killed him first, as we do a
bullock; but that these men had many arts beyond the cruelty of death.
Whenever these thoughts prevailed I was sure to put myself into a kind
of fever, with the agitations of a supposed fight; my blood would boil,
and my eyes sparkle, as if I was engaged; and I always resolved that I
would take no quarter at their hands; but even at last, if I could
resist no longer, I would blow up the ship, and all that was in her, and
leave them but little booty to boast of.
But by how much the greater weight the anxieties and perplexities of
those things were to our thoughts while we were at sea, by so much the
greater was our satisfaction when we saw ourselves on shore; and my
partner told me he dreamed that he had a very heavy load upon his back,
which he was to carry up a hill, and found that he was not able to stand
long under it; but the Portuguese pilot came, and took it off his back,
and the hill disappeared, the ground before him shewing all smooth and
plain: and truly it was so; we were all like men who had a load taken
off their backs.
For my part, I had a weight taken off from my heart, that I was not able
any longer to bear; and, as I said above, we resolved to go no more to
sea in that ship. When we came on shore, the old pilot, who was now our
friend, got us a lodging, and a warehouse for our goods, which, by the
way, was much the same: it was a little house, or hut, with a large
house joining to it, all built with canes, and palisadoed round with
large canes, to keep out pilfering thieves, of which it seems there were
not a few in the country. However, the magistrates allowed us all a
little guard, and we had a soldier with a kind of halbert, or half-pike,
who stood sentinel at our door, to whom we allowed a pint of rice, and a
little piece of money, about the value of three-pence, per day: so that
our goods were kept very safe.
The fair or mart usually kept in this place had been over some time;
however, we found that there were three or four junks in the river, and
two Japanners, I mean ships from Japan, with goods which they had bought
in China, and were not gone away, having Japanese merchants on shore.
The first thing our old Portuguese pilot did for us was to bring us
acquainted with three missionary Romish priests, who were in the town,
and who had been there some time, converting the people to Christianity;
but we thought they made but poor work of it, and made them but sorry
Christians when they had done. However, that was not our business. One
of these was a Frenchman, whom they called Father Simon; he was a jolly
well-conditioned man, very free in his conversation, not seeming so
serious and grave as the other two did, one of whom was a Portuguese,
and the other a Genoese: but Father Simon was courteous, easy in his
manner, and very agreeable company; the other two were more reserved,
seemed rigid and austere, and applied seriously to the work they came
about, viz. to talk with, and insinuate themselves among the inhabitants
wherever they had opportunity. We often ate and drank with those men;
and though I must confess, the conversion, as they call it, of the
Chinese to Christianity, is so far from the true conversion required to
bring heathen people to the faith of Christ, that it seems to amount to
little more than letting them know the name of Christ, say some prayers
to the Virgin Mary and her Son, in a tongue which they understand not,
and to cross themselves, and the like; yet it must be confessed that
these religious, whom we call missionaries, have a firm belief that
these people should be saved, and that they are the instrument of it;
and, on this account, they undergo not only the fatigue of the voyage,
and hazards of living in such places, but oftentimes death itself, with
the most violent tortures, for the sake of this work: and it would be a
great want of charity in us, whatever opinion we have of the work
itself, and the manner of their doing it, if we should not have a good
opinion of their zeal, who undertake it with so many hazards, and who
have no prospect of the least temporal advantage to themselves.
But to return to my story: This French priest, Father Simon, was
appointed, it seems, by order of the chief of the mission, to go up to
Pekin, the royal seat of the Chinese emperor; and waited only for
another priest, who was ordered to come to him from Macao, to go along
with him; and we scarce ever met together but he was inviting me to go
that journey with him, telling me, how he would shew me all the glorious
things of that mighty empire; and among the rest the greatest city in
the world; “A city,” said he, “that your London and our Paris put
together cannot be equal to.” This was the city of Pekin, which, I
confess, is very great, and infinitely full of people; but as I looked
on those things with different eyes from other men, so I shall give my
opinion of them in few words when I come in the course of my travels to
speak more particularly of them.
But first I come to my friar or missionary: dining with him one day, and
being very merry together, I showed some little inclination to go with
him; and he pressed me and my partner very hard, and with a great many
persuasions, to consent. “Why, Father Simon,” says my partner, “why
should you desire our company so much? You know we are heretics, and you
do not love us, nor can keep us company with any pleasure.”—“O!” says
he, “you may, perhaps, be good Catholics in time; my business here is to
convert heathens, and who knows but I may convert you too?”—“Very well,
Father,” said I, “so you will preach to us all the way.”—“I won’t be
troublesome to you,” said he; “our religion does not divest us of good
manners; besides,” said he, “we are all here like countrymen; and so we
are, compared to the place we are in; and if you are Hugonots, and I a
Catholic, we may be all Christians at last; at least,” said he, “we are
all gentlemen, and we may converse so, without being uneasy to one
another.” I liked that part of his discourse very well, and it began to
put me in mind of my priest that I had left in the Brasils; but this
Father Simon did not come up to his character by a great deal; for
though Father Simon had no appearance of a criminal levity in him
neither, yet he had not that fund of Christian zeal, strict piety, and
sincere affection to religion, that my other good ecclesiastic had, of
whom I have said so much.
But to leave him a little, though he never left us, nor soliciting us to
go with him, but we had something else before us at that time; for we
had all this while our ship and our merchandise to dispose of; and we
began to be very doubtful what we should do, for we were now in a place
of very little business; and once I was about to venture to sail for
the river of Kilam, and the city of Nanquin: but Providence seemed now
more visibly, as I thought, than ever, to concern itself in our affairs;
and I was encouraged from this very time to think I should, one way or
other, get out of this entangled circumstance, and be brought home to my
own country again, though I had not the least view of the manner; and
when I began sometimes to think of it, could not imagine by what method
it was to be done. Providence, I say, began here to clear up our way a
little; and the first thing that offered was, that our old Portuguese
pilot brought a Japan merchant to us, who began to inquire what goods we
had; and, in the first place, he bought all our opium, and gave us a
very good price for it, paying us in gold by weight, some in small
pieces of their own coin, and some in small wedges, of about ten or
eleven ounces each. While we were dealing with him for our opium, it
came into my head that he might, perhaps, deal with us for the ship too;
and I ordered the interpreter to propose it to him. He shrunk up his
shoulders at it, when it was first proposed to him; but in a few days
after he came to me, with one of the missionary priests for his
interpreter, and told me he had a proposal to make to me, and that was
this: he had bought a great quantity of goods of us when he had no
thoughts (or proposals made to him) of buying the ship, and that,
therefore, he had not money enough to pay for the ship; but if I would
let the same men who were in the ship navigate her, he would hire the
ship to go to Japan, and would send them from thence to the Philippine
islands with another loading, which he would pay the freight of before
they went from Japan; and that, at their return, he would buy the ship.
I began to listen to this proposal; and so eager did my head still run
upon rambling, that I could not but begin to entertain a notion myself
of going with him, and so to sail from the Philippine islands away to
the South Seas; and accordingly I asked the Japanese merchant if he
would not hire us to the Philippine islands, and discharge us there. He
said, no, he could not do that, for then he could not have the return of
his cargo; but he would discharge us in Japan, he said, at the ship’s
return. Well, still I was for taking him at that proposal, and going
myself; but my partner, wiser than myself, persuaded me from it,
representing the dangers, as well of the seas, as of the Japanese, who
are a false, cruel, treacherous people; and then of the Spaniards at the
Philippines, more false, more cruel, more treacherous than they.
But, to bring this long turn of our affairs to a conclusion, the first
thing we had to do was to consult with the captain of the ship, and with
the men, and know if they were willing to go to Japan; and, while I was
doing this, the young man whom, as I said, my nephew had left with me as
my companion for my travels, came to me and told me that he thought that
voyage promised very fair, and that there was a great prospect of
advantage, and he would be very glad if I undertook it; but that if I
would not, and would give him leave, he would go as a merchant, or how I
pleased to order him; and if ever he came to England, and I was there,
and alive, he would render me a faithful account of his success, and it
should be as much mine as I pleased.
I was really loath to part with him; but considering the prospect of
advantage, which was really considerable, and that he was a young fellow
as likely to do well in it as any I knew, I inclined to let him go; but
first I told him, I would consult my partner, and give him an answer the
next day. My partner and I discoursed about it, and my partner made a
most generous offer: he told me, “You know it has been an unlucky ship,
and we both resolve not to go to sea in it again; if your steward (so he
called my man) will venture the voyage, I’ll leave my share of the
vessel to him, and let him make the best of it; and if we live to meet
in England, and he meets with success abroad, he shall account for one
half of the profits of the ship’s freight to us, the other shall be
his own.”