provisions agreed for, and some of the men fancied the Dutchmen were
contriving our destruction; but they were very honest, and did what they
could to furnish the black cattle, but found it impossible to supply so
many. So they came and told us ingenuously, that, unless we could stay
a while longer, they could get no more oxen or cows than those eleven,
with which we were obliged to be satisfied, taking the value of them
in other things, rather than stay longer there. On our side, we were
punctual with them in observing the conditions we had agreed on; nor
would we let any of our men so much as go on board them, or suffer any
of their men to come on board us; for, had any of our men gone on board,
nobody could have answered for their behaviour, any more than if they
had been on shore in an enemy's country.
We were now victualled for our voyage; and, as we mattered not purchase,
we went merrily on for the coast of Ceylon, where we intended to touch,
to get fresh water again, and more provisions; and we had nothing
material offered in this part of the voyage, only that we met with
contrary winds, and were above a month in the passage.
We put in upon the south coast of the island, desiring to have as little
to do with the Dutch as we could; and as the Dutch were lords of the
country as to commerce, so they are more so of the sea-coast, where they
have several forts, and, in particular, have all the cinnamon, which is
the trade of that island.
We took in fresh water here, and some provisions, but did not much
trouble ourselves about laying in any stores, our beef and hogs, which
we got at Java, being not yet all gone by a good deal. We had a little
skirmish on shore here with some of the people of the island, some of
our men having been a little too familiar with the homely ladies of the
country; for homely, indeed, they were, to such a degree, that if our
men had not had good stomachs that way, they would scarce have touched
any of them.
I could never fully get it out of our men what they did, they were so
true to one another in their wickedness, but I understood in the main,
that it was some barbarous thing they had done, and that they had like
to have paid dear for it, for the men resented it to the last degree,
and gathered in such numbers about them, that, had not sixteen more of
our men, in another boat, come all in the nick of time, just to rescue
our first men, who were but eleven, and so fetch them off by main force,
they had been all cut off, the inhabitants being no less than two or
three hundred, armed with darts and lances, the usual weapons of the
country, and which they are very dexterous at the throwing, even so
dexterous that it was scarce credible; and had our men stood to fight
them, as some of them were bold enough to talk of, they had been all
overwhelmed and killed. As it was, seventeen of our men were wounded,
and some of them very dangerously. But they were more frighted than hurt
too, for every one of them gave themselves over for dead men, believing
the lances were poisoned. But William was our comfort here too; for,
when two of our surgeons were of the same opinion, and told the men
foolishly enough that they would die, William cheerfully went to work
with them, and cured them all but one, who rather died by drinking some
arrack punch than of his wound; the excess of drinking throwing him into
a fever.
We had enough of Ceylon, though some of our people were for going
ashore again, sixty or seventy men together, to be revenged; but William
persuaded them against it; and his reputation was so great among the
men, as well as with us that were commanders, that he could influence
them more than any of us.
They were mighty warm upon their revenge, and they would go on shore,
and destroy five hundred of them. "Well," says William, "and suppose you
do, what are you the better?" "Why, then," says one of them, speaking
for the rest, "we shall have our satisfaction." "Well, and what will you
be the better for that?" says William. They could then say nothing to
that. "Then," says William, "if I mistake not, your business is money;
now, I desire to know, if you conquer and kill two or three thousand of
these poor creatures, they have no money, pray what will you get? They
are poor naked wretches; what shall you gain by them? But then," says
William, "perhaps, in doing this, you may chance to lose half-a-score of
your own company, as it is very probable you may. Pray, what gain is
in it? and what account can you give the captain for his lost men?" In
short, William argued so effectually, that he convinced them that it
was mere murder to do so; and that the men had a right to their own,
and that they had no right to take them away; that it was destroying
innocent men, who had acted no otherwise than as the laws of nature
dictated; and that it would be as much murder to do so, as to meet a man
on the highway, and kill him, for the mere sake of it, in cold blood,
not regarding whether he had done any wrong to us or no.
These reasons prevailed with them at last, and they were content to
go away, and leave them as they found them. In the first skirmish they
killed between sixty and seventy men, and wounded a great many more; but
they had nothing, and our people got nothing by it, but the loss of one
man's life, and the wounding sixteen more, as above.
But another accident brought us to a necessity of further business with
these people, and indeed we had like to have put an end to our lives
and adventures all at once among them; for, about three days after our
putting out to sea from the place where we had that skirmish, we
were attacked by a violent storm of wind from the south, or rather a
hurricane of wind from all the points southward, for it blew in a most
desperate and furious manner from the S.E. to the S.W., one minute at
one point, and then instantly turning about again to another point,
but with the same violence; nor were we able to work the ship in that
condition, so that the ship I was in split three top-sails, and at last
brought the main-top-mast by the board; and, in a word, we were once or
twice driven right ashore; and one time, had not the wind shifted the
very moment it did, we had been dashed in a thousand pieces upon a great
ledge of rocks which lay off about half-a-league from the shore; but,
as I have said, the wind shifting very often, and at that time coming
to the E.S.E., we stretched off, and got above a league more sea-room in
half-an-hour. After that, it blew with some fury S.W. by S., then S.W.
by W., and put us back again a great way to the eastward of the ledge
of rocks, where we found a great opening between the rocks and the land,
and endeavoured to come to an anchor there, but we found there was no
ground fit to anchor in, and that we should lose our anchors, there
being nothing but rocks. We stood through the opening, which held about
four leagues. The storm continued, and now we found a dreadful foul
shore, and knew not what course to take. We looked out very narrowly
for some river or creek or bay, where we might run in, and come to an
anchor, but found none a great while. At length we saw a great headland
lie out far south into the sea, and that to such a length, that, in
short, we saw plainly that, if the wind held where it was, we could not
weather it, so we ran in as much under the lee of the point as we could,
and came to an anchor in about twelve fathom water.
But the wind veering again in the night, and blowing exceedingly hard,
our anchors came home, and the ship drove till the rudder struck against
the ground; and had the ship gone half her length farther she had been
lost, and every one of us with her. But our sheet-anchor held its own,
and we heaved in some of the cable, to get clear of the ground we had
struck upon. It was by this only cable that we rode it out all night;
and towards morning we thought the wind abated a little; and it was well
for us that it was so, for, in spite of what our sheet-anchor did for
us, we found the ship fast aground in the morning, to our very great
surprise and amazement.
When the tide was out, though the water here ebbed away, the ship lay
almost dry upon a bank of hard sand, which never, I suppose, had any
ship upon it before. The people of the country came down in great
numbers to look at us and gaze, not knowing what we were, but gaping at
us as at a great sight or wonder at which they were surprised, and knew
not what to do.
I have reason to believe that upon the sight they immediately sent an
account of a ship being there, and of the condition we were in, for the
next day there appeared a great man; whether it was their king or no
I know not, but he had abundance of men with him, and some with long
javelins in their hands as long as half-pikes; and these came all down
to the water's edge, and drew up in a very good order, just in our view.
They stood near an hour without making any motion; and then there came
near twenty of them, with a man before them carrying a white flag. They
came forward into the water as high as their waists, the sea not going
so high as before, for the wind was abated, and blew off the shore.
The man made a long oration to us, as we could see by his gestures; and
we sometimes heard his voice, but knew not one word he said. William,
who was always useful to us, I believe was here again the saving of all
our lives. The case was this: The fellow, or what I might call him, when
his speech was done, gave three great screams (for I know not what else
to say they were), then lowered his white flag three times, and then
made three motions to us with his arm to come to him.
I acknowledge that I was for manning out the boat and going to them, but
William would by no means allow me. He told me we ought to trust nobody;
that, if they were barbarians, and under their own government, we might
be sure to be all murdered; and, if they were Christians, we should not
fare much better, if they knew who we were; that it was the custom of
the Malabars to betray all people that they could get into their hands,
and that these were some of the same people; and that, if we had any
regard to our own safety, we should not go to them by any means. I
opposed him a great while, and told him I thought he used to be always
right, but that now I thought he was not; that I was no more for running
needless risks than he or any one else; but I thought all nations in the
world, even the most savage people, when they held out a flag of peace,
kept the offer of peace made by that signal very sacredly; and I gave
him several examples of it in the history of my African travels, which
I have here gone through in the beginning of this work, and that I could
not think these people worse than some of them. And, besides, I told him
our case seemed to be such that we must fall into somebody's hands or
other, and that we had better fall into their hands by a friendly treaty
than by a forced submission, nay, though they had indeed a treacherous
design; and therefore I was for a parley with them.
"Well, friend," says William very gravely, "if thou wilt go I cannot
help it; I shall only desire to take my last leave of thee at parting,
for, depend upon it, thou wilt never see us again. Whether we in the
ship may come off any better at last I cannot resolve thee; but this I
will answer for, that we will not give up our lives idly, and in cool
blood, as thou art going to do; we will at least preserve ourselves as
long as we can, and die at last like men, not like fools, trepanned by
the wiles of a few barbarians."
William spoke this with so much warmth, and yet with so much assurance
of our fate, that I began to think a little of the risk I was going to
run. I had no more mind to be murdered than he; and yet I could not for
my life be so faint-hearted in the thing as he. Upon which I asked him
if he had any knowledge of the place, or had ever been there. He said,
No. Then I asked him if he had heard or read anything about the people
of this island, and of their way of treating any Christians that had
fallen into their hands; and he told me he had heard of one, and
he would tell me the story afterward. His name, he said, was Knox,
commander of an East India ship, who was driven on shore, just as we
were, upon this island of Ceylon, though he could not say it was at the
same place, or whereabouts; that he was beguiled by the barbarians, and
enticed to come on shore, just as we were invited to do at that time;
and that, when they had him, they surrounded him, and eighteen or twenty
of his men, and never suffered them to return, but kept them prisoners,
or murdered them, he could not tell which; but they were carried away
up into the country, separated from one another, and never heard of
afterwards, except the captain's son, who miraculously made his escape,
after twenty years' slavery.
I had no time then to ask him to give the full story of this Knox, much
less to hear him tell it me; but, as it is usual in such cases, when
one begins to be a little touched, I turned short with him. "Why then,
friend William," said I, "what would you have us do? You see what
condition we are in, and what is before us; something must be done, and
that immediately." "Why," says William, "I'll tell thee what thou shalt
do; first, cause a white flag to be hanged out, as they do to us, and
man out the longboat and pinnace with as many men as they can well stow,
to handle their arms, and let me go with them, and thou shalt see what
we will do. If I miscarry, thou mayest be safe; and I will also tell
thee, that if I do miscarry, it shall be my own fault, and thou shalt
learn wit by my folly."
I knew not what to reply to him at first; but, after some pause, I said,
"William, William, I am as loath you should be lost as you are that I
should; and if there be any danger, I desire you may no more fall into
it than I. Therefore, if you will, let us all keep in the ship, fare
alike, and take our fate together."
"No, no," says William, "there's no danger in the method I propose; thou
shalt go with me, if thou thinkest fit. If thou pleasest but to follow
the measures that I shall resolve on, depend upon it, though we will
go off from the ships, we will not a man of us go any nearer them than
within call to talk with them. Thou seest they have no boats to come off
to us; but," says he, "I rather desire thou wouldst take my advice, and
manage the ships as I shall give the signal from the boat, and let us
concert that matter together before we go off."
Well, I found William had his measures in his head all laid beforehand,
and was not at a loss what to do at all; so I told him he should be
captain for this voyage, and we would be all of us under his orders,
which I would see observed to a tittle.
Upon this conclusion of our debates, he ordered four-and-twenty men into
the long-boat, and twelve men into the pinnace, and the sea being now
pretty smooth, they went off, being all very well armed. Also he ordered
that all the guns of the great ship, on the side which lay next the
shore, should be loaded with musket-balls, old nails, stubs, and
such-like pieces of old iron, lead, and anything that came to hand; and
that we should prepare to fire as soon as ever we saw them lower the
white flag and hoist up a red one in the pinnace.
With these measures fixed between us, they went off towards the shore,
William in the pinnace with twelve men, and the long-boat coming after
him with four-and-twenty more, all stout resolute fellows, and very
well armed. They rowed so near the shore as that they might speak to one
another, carrying a white flag, as the other did, and offering a parley.
The brutes, for such they were, showed themselves very courteous; but
finding we could not understand them, they fetched an old Dutchman, who
had been their prisoner many years, and set him to speak to us. The sum
and substance of his speech was, that the king of the country had sent
his general down to know who we were, and what our business was. William
stood up in the stern of the pinnace, and told him, that as to that, he,
that was an European, by his language and voice, might easily know what
we were, and our condition; the ship being aground upon the sand would
also tell him that our business there was that of a ship in distress; so
William desired to know what they came down for with such a multitude,
and with arms and weapons, as if they came to war with us.
He answered, they might have good reason to come down to the shore, the
country being alarmed with the appearance of ships of strangers upon
the coast; and as our vessels were full of men, and as we had guns and
weapons, the king had sent part of his military men, that, in case of
any invasion upon the country, they might be ready to defend themselves,
whatsoever might be the occasion.
"But," says he, "as you are men in distress, the king has ordered his
general, who is here also, to give you all the assistance he can, and to
invite you on shore, and receive you with all possible courtesy." Says
William, very quick upon him, "Before I give thee an answer to that,
I desire thee to tell me what thou art, for by thy speech thou art an
European." He answered presently, he was a Dutchman. "That I know well,"
says William, "by thy speech; but art thou a native Dutchman of Holland,
or a native of this country, that has learned Dutch by conversing among
the Hollanders, who we know are settled upon this island?"
"No," says the old man, "I am a native of Delft, in the province of
Holland, in Europe."
"Well," says William, immediately, "but art thou a Christian or a
heathen, or what we call a renegado?"
"I am," says he, "a Christian." And so they went on, in a short
dialogue, as follows:--
_William_. Thou art a Dutchman, and a Christian, thou sayest; pray, art
thou a freeman or a servant?
_Dutchman_. I am a servant to the king here, and in his army.
_W_. But art thou a volunteer, or a prisoner?
_D_. Indeed I was a prisoner at first, but am at liberty now, and so am
a volunteer.
_W_. That is to say, being first a prisoner, thou hast liberty to serve
them; but art thou so at liberty that thou mayest go away, if thou
pleasest, to thine own countrymen?
_D_. No, I do not say so; my countrymen live a great way off, on the
north and east parts of the island, and there is no going to them
without the king's express license.
_W_. Well, and why dost thou not get a license to go away?
_D_. I have never asked for it.
_W_. And, I suppose, if thou didst, thou knowest thou couldst not obtain
it.
_D_. I cannot say much as to that; but why do you ask me all these
questions?
_W_. Why, my reason is good; if thou art a Christian and a prisoner,
how canst thou consent to be made an instrument to these barbarians,
to betray us into their hands, who are thy countrymen and
fellow-Christians? Is it not a barbarous thing in thee to do so?
_D_. How do I go about to betray you? Do I not give you an account how
the king invites you to come on shore, and has ordered you to be treated
courteously and assisted?
_W_. As thou art a Christian, though I doubt it much, dost thou believe
the king or the general, as thou callest it, means one word of what he
says?
_D_. He promises you by the mouth of his great general.
_W_. I don't ask thee what he promises, or by whom; but I ask thee this:
Canst thou say that thou believest he intends to perform it?
_D_. How can I answer that? How can I tell what he intends?
_W_. Thou canst tell what thou believest.
_D_. I cannot say but he will perform it; I believe he may.
_W_. Thou art but a double-tongued Christian, I doubt. Come, I'll ask
thee another question: Wilt thou say that thou believest it, and that
thou wouldst advise me to believe it, and put our lives into their hands
upon these promises?
_D_. I am not to be your adviser.
_W_. Thou art perhaps afraid to speak thy mind, because thou art in
their power. Pray, do any of them understand what thou and I say? Can
they speak Dutch?
_D_. No, not one of them; I have no apprehensions upon that account at
all.
_W_. Why, then, answer me plainly, if thou art a Christian: Is it safe
for us to venture upon their words, to put ourselves into their hands,
and come on shore?
_D_. You put it very home to me. Pray let me ask you another question:
Are you in any likelihood of getting your ship off, if you refuse it?
_W_. Yes, yes, we shall get off the ship; now the storm is over we don't
fear it.
_D_. Then I cannot say it is best for you to trust them.
_W_. Well, it is honestly said.
_D_. But what shall I say to them?
_W_. Give them good words, as they give us.
_D_. What good words?
_W_. Why, let them tell the king that we are strangers, who were driven
on his coast by a great storm; that we thank him very kindly for his
offer of civility to us, which, if we are further distressed, we will
accept thankfully; but that at present we have no occasion to come on
shore; and besides, that we cannot safely leave the ship in the present
condition she is in; but that we are obliged to take care of her, in
order to get her off; and expect, in a tide or two more, to get her
quite clear, and at an anchor.
_D_. But he will expect you to come on shore, then, to visit him, and
make him some present for his civility.
_W_. When we have got our ship clear, and stopped the leaks, we will pay
our respects to him.
_D_. Nay, you may as well come to him now as then.
_W_. Nay, hold, friend; I did not say we would come to him then: you
talked of making him a present, that is to pay our respects to him, is
it not?
_D_. Well, but I will tell him that you will come on shore to him when
your ship is got off.
_W_. I have nothing to say to that; you may tell him what you think fit.
_D_. But he will be in a great rage if I do not.
_W_. Who will he be in a great rage at?
_D_. At you.
_W_. What occasion have we to value that?
_D_. Why, he will send all his army down against you.
_W_. And what if they were all here just now? What dost thou suppose
they could do to us?
_D_. He would expect they should burn your ships and bring you all to
him.
_W_. Tell him, if he should try, he may catch a Tartar.
_D_. He has a world of men.
_W_. Has he any ships?
_D_. No, he has no ships.
_W_. Nor boats?
_D_. No, nor boats.
_W_. Why, what then do you think we care for his men? What canst thou do
now to us, if thou hadst a hundred thousand with thee?
_D_. Oh! they might set you on fire.
_W_. Set us a-firing, thou meanest; that they might indeed; but set us
on fire they shall not; they may try, at their peril, and we shall make
mad work with your hundred thousand men, if they come within reach of
our guns, I assure thee.
_D_. But what if the king gives you hostages for your safety?
_W_. Whom can he give but mere slaves and servants like thyself, whose
lives he no more values than we an English hound?
_D_. Whom do you demand for hostages?
_W_. Himself and your worship.
_D_. What would you do with him?
_W_. Do with him as he would do with us--cut his head off.
_D_. And what would you do with me?
_W_. Do with thee? We would carry thee home into thine own country; and,
though thou deservest the gallows, we would make a man and a Christian
of thee again, and not do by thee as thou wouldst have done by
us--betray thee to a parcel of merciless, savage pagans, that know no
God, nor how to show mercy to man.
_D_. You put a thought in my head that I will speak to you about
to-morrow.
Thus they went away, and William came on board, and gave us a full
account of his parley with the old Dutchman, which was very diverting,
and to me instructing; for I had abundance of reason to acknowledge
William had made a better judgment of things than I.
It was our good fortune to get our ship off that very night, and to
bring her to an anchor at about a mile and a half farther out, and in
deep water, to our great satisfaction; so that we had no need to fear
the Dutchman's king, with his hundred thousand men; and indeed we
had some sport with them the next day, when they came down, a
vast prodigious multitude of them, very few less in number, in our
imagination, than a hundred thousand, with some elephants; though, if it
had been an army of elephants, they could have done us no harm; for we
were fairly at our anchor now, and out of their reach. And indeed we
thought ourselves more out of their reach than we really were; and it
was ten thousand to one that we had not been fast aground again, for the
wind blowing off shore, though it made the water smooth where we lay,
yet it blew the ebb farther out than usual, and we could easily perceive
the sand, which we touched upon before, lay in the shape of a half-moon,
and surrounded us with two horns of it, so that we lay in the middle
or centre of it, as in a round bay, safe just as we were, and in deep
water, but present death, as it were, on the right hand and on the left,
for the two horns or points of the sand reached out beyond where our
ship lay near two miles.
On that part of the sand which lay on our east side, this misguided
multitude extended themselves; and being, most of them, not above their
knees, or most of them not above ankle-deep in the water, they as it
were surrounded us on that side, and on the side of the mainland, and a
little way on the other side of the sand, standing in a half-circle,
or rather three-fifths of a circle, for about six miles in length. The
other horn, or point of the sand, which lay on our west side, being not
quite so shallow, they could not extend themselves upon it so far.