and by the greatest ignorance, they had made themselves pilots to us,
while we, having not sounded the place, might have been lost before we
were aware. It is true we might have sounded our new harbour before we
had ventured out, but I cannot say for certain whether we should or not;
for I, for my part, had not the least suspicion of what our real case
was; however, I say, perhaps, before we had weighed, we should have
looked about us a little. I am sure we ought to have done it; for,
besides these armies of human furies, we had a very leaky ship, and
all our pumps could hardly keep the water from growing upon us, and our
carpenters were overboard, working to find out and stop the wounds we
had received, heeling her first on the one side, and then on the other;
and it was very diverting to see how, when our men heeled the ship over
to the side next the wild army that stood on the east horn of the sand,
they were so amazed, between fright and joy, that it put them into a
kind of confusion, calling to one another, hallooing and skreeking, in a
manner that it is impossible to describe.
While we were doing this, for we were in a great hurry you may be sure,
and all hands at work, as well at the stopping our leaks as repairing
our rigging and sails, which had received a great deal of damage, and
also in rigging a new main-top-mast and the like;--I say, while we were
doing all this, we perceived a body of men, of near a thousand, move
from that part of the army of the barbarians that lay at the bottom of
the sandy bay, and came all along the water's edge, round the sand, till
they stood just on our broadside east, and were within about half-a-mile
of us. Then we saw the Dutchman come forward nearer to us, and all
alone, with his white flag and all his motions, just as before, and
there he stood.
Our men had but just brought the ship to rights again as they came up to
our broadside, and we had very happily found out and stopped the worst
and most dangerous leak that we had, to our very great satisfaction;
so I ordered the boats to be hauled up and manned as they were the day
before, and William to go as plenipotentiary. I would have gone myself
if I had understood Dutch, but as I did not, it was to no purpose, for
I should be able to know nothing of what was said but from him
at second-hand, which might be done as well afterwards. All the
instructions I pretended to give William was, if possible, to get the
old Dutchman away, and, if he could, to make him come on board.
Well, William went just as before, and when he came within about sixty
or seventy yards of the shore, he held up his white flag as the Dutchman
did, and turning the boat's broadside to the shore, and his men lying
upon their oars, the parley or dialogue began again thus:--
_William_. Well, friend, what dost thou say to us now?
_Dutchman_. I come of the same mild errand as I did yesterday.
_W_. What! dost thou pretend to come of a mild errand with all these
people at thy back, and all the foolish weapons of war they bring with
them? Prithee, what dost thou mean?
_D_. The king hastens us to invite the captain and all his men to come
on shore, and has ordered all his men to show them all the civility they
can.
_W_. Well, and are all those men come to invite us ashore?
D. They will do you no hurt, if you will come on shore peaceably.
W. Well, and what dost thou think they can do to us, if we will not?
D. I would not have them do you any hurt then, neither.
W. But prithee, friend, do not make thyself fool and knave too. Dost not
thou know that we are out of fear of all thy army, and out of danger
of all that they can do? What makes thee act so simply as well as so
knavishly?
D. Why, you may think yourselves safer than you are; you do not know
what they may do to you. I can assure you they are able to do you a
great deal of harm, and perhaps burn your ship.
W. Suppose that were true, as I am sure it is false; you see we have
more ships to carry us off (pointing to the sloop).
[N.B.--Just at this time we discovered the sloop standing towards us
from the east, along the shore, at about the distance of two leagues,
which was to our particular satisfaction, she having been missing
thirteen days.]
D. We do not value that; if you had ten ships, you dare not come on
shore, with all the men you have, in a hostile way; we are too many for
you.
W. Thou dost not, even in that, speak as thou meanest; and we may give
thee a trial of our hands when our friends come up to us, for thou
hearest they have discovered us.
[Just then the sloop fired five guns, which was to get news of us, for
they did not see us.]
D. Yes, I hear they fire; but I hope your ship will not fire again; for,
if they do, our general will take it for breaking the truce, and will
make the army let fly a shower of arrows at you in the boat.
W. Thou mayest be sure the ship will fire that the other ship may hear
them, but not with ball. If thy general knows no better, he may begin
when he will; but thou mayest be sure we will return it to his cost.
D. What must I do, then?
W. Do! Why, go to him, and tell him of it beforehand, then; and let
him know that the ship firing is not at him nor his men; and then come
again, and tell us what he says.
D. No; I will send to him, which will do as well.
W. Do as thou wilt, but I believe thou hadst better go thyself; for if
our men fire first, I suppose he will be in a great wrath, and it may be
at thee; for, as to his wrath at us, we tell thee beforehand we value it
not.
D. You slight them too much; you know not what they may do.
W. Thou makest as if these poor savage wretches could do mighty things:
prithee, let us see what you can all do, we value it not; thou mayest
set down thy flag of truce when thou pleasest, and begin.
D. I had rather make a truce, and have you all part friends.
W. Thou art a deceitful rogue thyself, for it is plain thou knowest
these people would only persuade us on shore to entrap and surprise us;
and yet thou that art a Christian, as thou callest thyself, would have
us come on shore and put our lives into their hands who know nothing
that belongs to compassion, good usage, or good manners. How canst thou
be such a villain?
D. How can you call me so? What have I done to you, and what would you
have me do?
W. Not act like a traitor, but like one that was once a Christian, and
would have been so still, if you had not been a Dutchman.
D. I know not what to do, not I. I wish I were from them; they are a
bloody people.
W. Prithee, make no difficulty of what thou shouldst do. Canst thou
swim?
D. Yes, I can swim; but if I should attempt to swim off to you, I should
have a thousand arrows and javelins sticking in me before I should get
to your boat.
W. I'll bring the boat close to thee, and take thee on board in spite
of them all. We will give them but one volley, and I'll engage they will
all run away from thee.
D. You are mistaken in them, I assure you; they would immediately come
all running down to the shore, and shoot fire-arrows at you, and set
your boat and ship and all on fire about your ears.
W. We will venture that if thou wilt come off.
D. Will you use me honourably when I am among you?
W. I'll give thee my word for it, if thou provest honest.
D. Will you not make me a prisoner?
W. I will be thy surety, body for body, that thou shalt be a free man,
and go whither thou wilt, though I own to thee thou dost not deserve it.
Just at this time our ship fired three guns to answer the sloop and let
her know we saw her, who immediately, we perceived, understood it,
and stood directly for the place. But it is impossible to express the
confusion and filthy vile noise, the hurry and universal disorder, that
was among that vast multitude of people upon our firing off three guns.
They immediately all repaired to their arms, as I may call it; for to
say they put themselves into order would be saying nothing.
Upon the word of command, then, they advanced all in a body to the
seaside, and resolving to give us one volley of their fire-arms (for
such they were), immediately they saluted us with a hundred thousand of
their fire-arrows, every one carrying a little bag of cloth dipped
in brimstone, or some such thing, which, flying through the air, had
nothing to hinder it taking fire as it flew, and it generally did so.
I cannot say but this method of attacking us, by a way we had no notion
of, might give us at first some little surprise, for the number was so
great at first, that we were not altogether without apprehensions that
they might unluckily set our ship on fire, so that William resolved
immediately to row on board, and persuade us all to weigh and stand out
to sea; but there was no time for it, for they immediately let fly a
volley at the boat, and at the ship, from all parts of the vast crowd of
people which stood near the shore. Nor did they fire, as I may call it,
all at once, and so leave off; but their arrows being soon notched upon
their bows, they kept continually shooting, so that the air was full of
flame.
I could not say whether they set their cotton rag on fire before they
shot the arrow, for I did not perceive they had fire with them, which,
however, it seems they had. The arrow, besides the fire it carried with
it, had a head, or a peg, as we call it, of bone; and some of sharp
flint stone; and some few of a metal, too soft in itself for metal, but
hard enough to cause it to enter, if it were a plank, so as to stick
where it fell.
William and his men had notice sufficient to lie close behind their
waste-boards, which, for this very purpose, they had made so high
that they could easily sink themselves behind them, so as to defend
themselves from anything that came point-blank (as we call it) or upon a
line; but for what might fall perpendicularly out of the air they had no
guard, but took the hazard of that. At first they made as if they would
row away, but before they went they gave a volley of their fire-arms,
firing at those which stood with the Dutchman; but William ordered them
to be sure to take their aim at others, so as to miss him, and they did
so.
There was no calling to them now, for the noise was so great among them
that they could hear nobody, but our men boldly rowed in nearer to them,
for they were at first driven a little off, and when they came nearer,
they fired a second volley, which put the fellows into great confusion,
and we could see from the ship that several of them were killed or
wounded.
We thought this was a very unequal fight, and therefore we made a signal
to our men to row away, that we might have a little of the sport as
well as they; but the arrows flew so thick upon them, being so near the
shore, that they could not sit to their oars, so they spread a little
of their sail, thinking they might sail along the shore, and lie behind
their waste-board; but the sail had not been spread six minutes till it
had five hundred fire-arrows shot into it and through it, and at length
set it fairly on fire; nor were our men quite out of the danger of its
setting the boat on fire, and this made them paddle and shove the boat
away as well as they could, as they lay, to get farther off.
By this time they had left us a fair mark at the whole savage army; and
as we had sheered the ship as near to them as we could, we fired among
the thickest of them six or seven times, five guns at a time, with shot,
old iron, musket-bullets, &c.
We could easily see that we made havoc among them, and killed and
wounded abundance of them, and that they were in a great surprise at it;
but yet they never offered to stir, and all this while their fire-arrows
flew as thick as before.
At last, on a sudden their arrows stopped, and the old Dutchman came
running down to the water-side all alone, with his white flag, as
before, waving it as high as he could, and making signals to our boat to
come to him again.
William did not care at first to go near him, but the man continuing to
make signals to him to come, at last William went; and the Dutchman told
him that he had been with the general, who was much mollified by the
slaughter of his men, and that now he could have anything of him.
"Anything!" says William; "what have we to do with him? Let him go about
his business, and carry his men out of gunshot, can't he?"
"Why," says the Dutchman, "but he dares not stir, nor see the king's
face; unless some of your men come on shore, he will certainly put him
to death."
"Why, then," says William, "he is a dead man; for if it were to save his
life, and the lives of all the crowd that is with him, he shall never
have one of us in his power. But I'll tell thee," said William, "how
thou shalt cheat him, and gain thy own liberty too, if thou hast any
mind to see thy own country again, and art not turned savage, and grown
fond of living all thy days among heathens and savages."
"I would be glad to do it with all my heart," says he; "but if I should
offer to swim off to you now, though they are so far from me, they shoot
so true that they would kill me before I got half-way."
"But," says William, "I'll tell thee how thou shalt come with his
consent. Go to him, and tell him I have offered to carry you on board,
to try if you could persuade the captain to come on shore, and that I
would not hinder him if he was willing to venture."
The Dutchman seemed in a rapture at the very first word. "I'll do it,"
says he; "I am persuaded he will give me leave to come."
Away he runs, as if he had a glad message to carry, and tells the
general that William had promised, if he would go on board the ship with
him, he would persuade the captain to return with him. The general was
fool enough to give him orders to go, and charged him not to come back
without the captain; which he readily promised, and very honestly might.
So they took him in, and brought him on board, and he was as good as
his word to them, for he never went back to them any more; and the sloop
being come to the mouth of the inlet where we lay, we weighed and set
sail; but, as we went out, being pretty near the shore, we fired three
guns, as it were among them, but without any shot, for it was of no
use to us to hurt any more of them. After we had fired, we gave them a
cheer, as the seamen call it; that is to say, we hallooed, at them, by
way of triumph, and so carried off their ambassador. How it fared with
their general, we know nothing of that.
This passage, when I related it to a friend of mine, after my return
from those rambles, agreed so well with his relation of what happened to
one Mr Knox, an English captain, who some time ago was decoyed on shore
by these people, that it could not but be very much to my satisfaction
to think what mischief we had all escaped; and I think it cannot but be
very profitable to record the other story (which is but short) with my
own, to show whoever reads this what it was I avoided, and prevent their
falling into the like, if they have to do with the perfidious people of
Ceylon. The relation is as follows:--
The island of Ceylon being inhabited for the greatest part by
barbarians, which will not allow any trade or commerce with any European
nation, and inaccessible by any travellers, it will be convenient to
relate the occasion how the author of this story happened to go into
this island, and what opportunities he had of being fully acquainted
with the people, their laws and customs, that so we may the better
depend upon the account, and value it as it deserves, for the rarity
as well as the truth of it; and both these the author gives us a brief
relation of in this manner. His words are as follows:
In the year 1657, the _Anne_ frigate, of London, Captain Robert Knox,
commander, on the 21st day of January, set sail out of the Downs, in the
service of the honourable East India Company of England, bound for Fort
St George, upon the coast of Coromandel, to trade for one year from port
to port in India; which having performed, as he was lading his goods
to return for England, being in the road of Masulipatam, on the 19th of
November 1659, there happened such a mighty storm, that in it several
ships were cast away, and he was forced to cut his mainmast by the
board, which so disabled the ship, that he could not proceed in his
voyage; whereupon Cottiar, in the island of Ceylon, being a very
commodious bay, fit for her present distress, Thomas Chambers, Esq.,
since Sir Thomas Chambers, the agent at Fort St George, ordered that the
ship should take in some cloth and India merchants belonging to Porto
Novo, who might trade there while she lay to set her mast, and repair
the other damages sustained by the storm. At her first coming thither,
after the Indian merchants were set ashore, the captain and his men were
very jealous of the people of that place, by reason the English never
had any commerce or dealing with them; but after they had been there
twenty days, going ashore and returning again at pleasure, without any
molestation, they began to lay aside all suspicious thoughts of the
people that dwelt thereabouts, who had kindly entertained them for their
money.
By this time the king of the country had notice of their arrival, and,
not being acquainted with their intents, he sent down a dissauva, or
general, with an army, to them, who immediately sent a messenger to
the captain on board, to desire him to come ashore to him, pretending
a letter from the king. The captain saluted the message with firing of
guns, and ordered his son, Robert Knox, and Mr John Loveland, merchant
of the ship, to go ashore, and wait on him. When they were come before
him, he demanded who they were, and how long they should stay. They told
him they were Englishmen, and not to stay above twenty or thirty days,
and desired permission to trade in his Majesty's port. His answer was,
that the king was glad to hear the English were come into his country,
and had commanded him to assist them as they should desire, and had sent
a letter to be delivered to none but the captain himself. They were then
twelve miles from the seaside, and therefore replied, that the captain
could not leave his ship to come so far; but if he pleased to go down
to the seaside, the captain would wait on him to receive the letter;
whereupon the dissauva desired them to stay that day, and on the morrow
he would go with them; which, rather than displease him in so small a
matter, they consented to. In the evening the dissauva sent a present to
the captain of cattle and fruits, &c., which, being carried all night by
the messengers, was delivered to him in the morning, who told him withal
that his men were coming down with the dissauva, and desired his company
on shore against his coming, having a letter from the king to deliver
into his own hand. The captain, mistrusting nothing, came on shore with
his boat, and, sitting under a tamarind tree, waited for the dissauva.
In the meantime the native soldiers privately surrounded him and the
seven men he had with him, and seizing them, carried them to meet the
dissauva, bearing the captain on a hammock on their shoulders.
The next day the long-boat's crew, not knowing what had happened, came
on shore to cut down a tree to make cheeks for the mainmast, and were
made prisoners after the same manner, though with more violence, because
they were more rough with them, and made resistance; yet they were not
brought to the captain and his company, but quartered in another house
in the same town.
The dissauva having thus gotten two boats and eighteen men, his next
care was to gain the ship; and to that end, telling the captain that he
and his men were only detained because the king intended to send letters
and a present to the English nation by him, desired he would send some
men on board his ship to order her to stay; and because the ship was
in danger of being fired by the Dutch if she stayed long in the bay, to
bring her up the river. The captain did not approve of the advice, but
did not dare to own his dislike; so he sent his son with the order, but
with a solemn conjuration to return again, which he accordingly did,
bringing a letter from the company in the ship, that they would not obey
the captain, nor any other, in this matter, but were resolved to stand
on their own defence. This letter satisfied the dissauva, who thereupon
gave the captain leave to write for what he would have brought from
the ship, pretending that he had not the king's order to release them,
though it would suddenly come.
The captain seeing he was held in suspense, and the season of the year
spending for the ship to proceed on her voyage to some place, sent order
to Mr John Burford, the chief mate, to take charge of the ship, and
set sail to Porto Novo, from whence they came, and there to follow the
agent's order.
And now began that long and sad captivity they all along feared. The
ship being gone, the dissauva was called up to the king, and they were
kept under guards a while, till a special order came from the king
to part them, and put one in a town, for the conveniency of their
maintenance, which the king ordered to be at the charge of the country.
On September 16, 1660, the captain and his son were placed in a town
called Bonder Coswat, in the country of Hotcurly [? Hewarrisse Korle],
distant from the city of Kandy northward thirty miles, and from the
rest of the English a full day's journey. Here they had their provisions
brought them twice a day, without money, as much as they could eat,
and as good as the country yielded. The situation of the place was very
pleasant and commodious; but that year that part of the land was very
sickly by agues and fevers, of which many died. The captain and his son
after some time were visited with the common distemper, and the captain,
being also loaded with grief for his deplorable condition, languished
more than three months, and then died, February 9, 1661.
Robert Knox, his son, was now left desolate, sick, and in captivity,
having none to comfort him but God, who is the Father of the fatherless,
and hears the groans of such as are in captivity; being alone to enter
upon a long scene of misery and calamity; oppressed with weakness of
body and grief of soul for the loss of his father, and the remediless
trouble that he was like to endure; and the first instance of it was in
the burial of his father, for he sent his black boy to the people of
the town, to desire their assistance, because they understood not their
language; but they sent him only a rope, to drag him by the neck into
the woods, and told him that they would offer him no other help, unless
he would pay for it. This barbarous answer increased his trouble for his
father's death, that now he was like to lie unburied, and be made a prey
to the wild beasts in the woods; for the ground was very hard, and they
had not tools to dig with, and so it was impossible for them to bury
him; and having a small matter of money left him, viz., a pagoda and a
gold ring, he hired a man, and so buried him in as decent a manner as
their condition would permit.