We Make Another Canoe
THIS was the pleasantest year of all the life I
led in this place; Friday began to talk pretty well, and understand
the names of almost everything I had occasion to call for, and of
every place I had to send him to, and talk a great deal to me; so
that, in short, I began now to have some use for my tongue again,
which indeed I had very little occasion for before; that is to say,
about speech. Besides the pleasure of talking to him, I had a
singular satisfaction in the fellow himself; his simple, unfeigned
honesty appeared to me more and more every day, and I began really
to love the creature; and on his side, I believe he loved me more
than it was possible for him ever to love anything before.
I had a mind once to try if he had any hankering
inclination to his own country again, and having learned him
English so well that he could answer me almost any questions, I
asked him whether the nation that he belonged to never conquered in
battle. At which he smiled, and said, ‘‘Yes, yes, we always fight
the better’’; that is, he meant, always get the better in fight;
and so we began the following discourse: ‘‘You always fight the
better,’’ said I; ‘‘how came you to be taken prisoner then,
Friday?’’
FRIDAY: My nation beat much, for all that.
MASTER: How beat? If your nation beat them, how
came you to be taken?
FRIDAY: They more many than my nation in the place
where me was; they take one, two, three, and me; my nation overbeat
them in the yonder place, where me no was; there my nation take
one, two, great thousand.
MASTER: But why did not your side recover you from
the hands of your enemies then?
FRIDAY: They run one, two, three, and me, and make
go in the canoe; my nation have no canoe that time.
MASTER: Well, Friday, and what does your nation do
with the men they take? Do they carry them away, and eat them, as
these did?
FRIDAY: Yes, my nation eat mans too, eat all
up.
MASTER: Where do they carry them?
FRIDAY: Go to other place, where they think.
MASTER: Do they come hither?
FRIDAY: Yes, yes, they come hither; come other else
place.
MASTER: Have you been here with them?
FRIDAY: Yes, I been here. [Points to the
northwest side of the island, which, it seems, was their
side.]
By this I understood that my man Friday had
formerly been among the savages who used to come on shore on the
farther part of the island, on the said man-eating occasions that
he was now brought for; and some time after, when I took the
courage to carry him to that side, being the same I formerly
mentioned, he presently knew the place and told me he was there
once when they ate up twenty men, two women, and one child; he
could not tell twenty in English, but he numbered them by laying so
many stones in a row and pointing to me to tell them over.
I have told this passage because it introduces what
follows; that after I had had this discourse with him, I asked him
how far it was from our island to the shore, and whether the canoes
were not often lost; he told me there was no danger, no canoes ever
lost; but that after a little way out to the sea, there was a
current, and a wind, always one way in the morning, the other in
the afternoon.
This I understood to be no more than the sets of
the tide, as going out or coming in; but I afterwards understood it
was occasioned by the great draft and reflux of the mighty river
Orinoco, in the mouth, or the gulf, of which river, as I found
afterwards, our island lay; and this land which I perceived to the
west and northwest was the great island Trinidad, on the north
point of the mouth of the river. I asked Friday a thousand
questions about the country, the inhabitants, the sea, the coast,
and what nations were near; he told me all he knew, with the
greatest openness imaginable; I asked him the names of the several
nations of his sort of people, but could get no other name than
Caribs; from whence I easily understood that these were the
Caribbees, which our maps place on the part of America which
reaches from the mouth of the river Orinoco to Guiana, and onwards
to Santa Marta. He told me that up a great way beyond the moon,
that was, beyond the setting of the moon, which must be west from
their country, there dwelt white bearded men, like me, and pointed
to my great whiskers, which I mentioned before; and they had killed
‘‘much mans,’’ that was his word; by all which I understood he
meant the Spaniards, whose cruelties in America had been spread
over the whole countries and were remembered by all the nations
from father to son.
I inquired if he could tell me how I might come
from this island and get among those white men; he told me, ‘‘Yes,
yes, I might go in two canoe’’; I could not understand what he
meant, or make him describe to me what he meant by ‘‘two canoe,’’
till at last, with great difficulty, I found he meant it must be in
a large great boat, as big as two canoes.
This part of Friday’s discourse began to relish
with me very well; and from this time I entertained some hopes that
one time or other I might find an opportunity to make my escape
from this place and that this poor savage might be a means to help
me to do it.
During the long time that Friday had now been with
me, and that he began to speak to me and understand me, I was not
wanting8 to lay a foundation of
religious knowledge in his mind; particularly, I asked him one
time, who made him. The poor creature did not understand me at all,
but thought I had asked who was his father; but I took it by
another handle, and asked him who made the sea, the ground we
walked on, and thehills and woods; he told me it was one old
Benamuckee, that lived beyond all. He could describe nothing of
this great person but that he was very old; much older, he said,
than the sea or the land, than the moon or the stars. I asked him
then, if this old person had made all things, why did not all
things worship him? He looked very grave, and with a perfect look
of innocence, said All things said O! to him. I asked him if the
people who die in his country went away anywhere; he said yes, they
all went to Benamuckee; then I asked him whether these they eat up
went thither too. He said yes.
From these things I began to instruct him in the
knowledge of the true God. I told him that the great Maker of all
things lived up there, pointing up towards Heaven. That He governs
the world by the same Power and Providence by which He made it.
That He was omnipotent, could do everything for us, give everything
to us, take everything from us; and thus by degrees I opened his
eyes. He listened with great attention, and received with pleasure
the notion of Jesus Christ being sent to redeem us, and of the
manner of making our prayers to God, and His being able to hear us,
even into Heaven; he told me one day that if our God could hear us
up beyond the sun, He must needs be a greater God than their
Benamuckee, who lived but a little way off, and yet could not hear
till they went up to the great mountains where he dwelt, to speak
to him; I asked him if he ever went thither to speak to him; he
said no; they never went that were young men; none went thither but
the old men, whom he called their Oowokakee, that is, as I made him
explain it to me, their religious, or clergy, and that they went to
say O (so he called saying prayers) , and then came back and told
them what Benamuckee said. By this I observed that there is
priestcraft even amongst the most blinded, ignorant pagans in the
world, and the policy of making a secret religion, in order to
preserve the veneration of the people to the clergy, is not only to
be found in the Roman, but perhaps among all religions in the
world, even among the most brutish and barbarous savages.
I endeavoured to clear up this fraud to my man
Friday, and told him that the pretence of their old men going up
the mountains to say O to their god Benamuckee was a cheat, and
their bringing word from thence what he said was much more so; that
if they met with any answer, or spoke with anyone there, it must be
with an evil spirit. And then I entered into a long discourse with
him about the Devil, the original of him, his rebellion against
God, his enmity to man, the reason of it, his setting himself up in
the dark parts of the world to be worshipped instead of God, and as
God; and the many stratagems he made use of to delude mankind to
their ruin; how he had a secret access to our passions and to our
affections, to adapt his snares so to our inclinations as to cause
us even to be our own tempters and to run upon our destruction by
our own choice.
I found it was not easy to imprint right notions in
his mind about the Devil, as it was about the being of a God.
Nature assisted all my arguments to evidence to him even the
necessity of a great First Cause and overruling, governing Power, a
secret directing Providence, and of the equity and justice of
paying homage to Him that made us, and the like. But there appeared
nothing of all this in the notion of an evil spirit, of his
original, his being, his nature, and above all, of his inclination
to do evil, and to draw us in to do so too; and the poor creature
puzzled me once in such a manner, by a question merely natural and
innocent, that I scarce knew what to say to him. I had been talking
a great deal to him of the power of God, His omnipotence, His
dreadful aversion to sin, His being a consuming fire to the workers
of iniquity; how, as He had made us all, He could destroy us and
all the world in a moment; and he listened with great seriousness
to me all the while.
After this, I had been telling him how the Devil
was God’s enemy in the hearts of men, and used all his malice and
skill to defeat the good designs of Providence, and to ruin the
kingdom of Christ in the world, and the like. ‘‘Well,’’ says
Friday, ‘‘but you say God is so strong, so great; is He not much
strong, much might as the Devil?’’ ‘‘Yes, yes,’’ says I, ‘‘Friday,
God is stronger than the Devil, God is above the Devil, and
therefore we pray to God to tread him down under our feet, and
enable us to resist his temptations and quench his fiery darts.’’
‘‘But,’’ says he again, ‘‘if God much strong, much might as the
Devil, why God no kill the Devil, so make him no more do
wicked?’’
I was strangely surprised at his question, and
after all, though I was now an old man, yet I was but a young
doctor, and ill enough qualified for a casuist, or a solver of
difficulties. And at first I could not tell what to say; so I
pretended not to hear him, and asked him what he said. But he was
too earnest for an answer to forget his question; so that he
repeated it in the very same broken words as above. By this time I
had recovered myself a little, and I said, ‘‘God will at last
punish him severely, he is reserved for the judgment, and is to be
cast into the bottomless pit, to dwell with everlasting fire.’’
This did not satisfy Friday, but he returns upon me, repeating my
words, ‘‘ ‘Reserve at last,’ me no understand; but why not kill the
Devil now, not kill great ago?’’ ‘‘You may as well ask me,’’ said
I, ‘‘why God does not kill you and I, when we do wicked things here
that offend Him. We are preserved to repent and be pardoned.’’ He
muses awhile at this. ‘‘Well, well,’’ says he, mighty
affectionately, ‘‘that well; so you, I, Devil, all wicked, all
preserve, repent, God pardon all.’’ Here I was run down again by
him to the last degree, and it was a testimony to me how the mere
notions of nature, though they will guide reasonable creatures to
the knowledge of a God, and of a worship or homage due to the
supreme being of God, as the consequence of our nature; yet nothing
but Divine revelation can form the knowledge of Jesus Christ, and
of a redemption purchased for us, of a Mediator of the new
covenant, and of an Intercessor at the footstool of God’s throne; I
say, nothing but a revelation from Heaven can form these in the
soul; and that therefore the Gospel of our Lord and Saviour Jesus
Christ, I mean, the Word of God and the Spirit of God, promised for
the guide and sanctifier of His people, are the absolutely
necessary instructors of the souls of men, in the saving knowledge
of God, and the means of salvation.
I therefore diverted the present discourse between
me and my man, rising up hastily, as upon some sudden occasion of
going out; then sending him for something a good way off, I
seriously prayed to God that He would enable me to instruct
savingly this poor savage, assisting by His Spirit the heart of the
poor ignorant creature to receive the light of the knowledge of God
in Christ, reconciling him to Himself, and would guide me to speak
so to him from the Word of God as his conscience might be
convinced, his eyes opened, and his soul saved. When he came again
to me, I entered into a long discourse with him upon the subject of
the redemption of man by the Saviour of the world, and of the
doctrine of the Gospel preached from Heaven, viz., of repentance
towards God, and faith in our blessed Lord Jesus. I then explained
to him, as well as I could, why our blessed Redeemer took not on
Him the nature of angels but the seed of Abraham, and how for that
reason the fallen angels had no share in the redemption; that He
came only to the lost sheep of the House of Israel, and the
like.
I had, God knows, more sincerity than knowledge in
all the methods I took for this poor creature’s instruction, and
must acknowledge what I believe all that act upon the same
principle will find, that in laying things open to him, I really
informed and instructed myself in many things that either I did not
know or had not fully considered before, but which occurred
naturally to my mind upon my searching into them for the
information of this poor savage; and I had more affection in my
inquiry after things upon this occasion than ever I felt before; so
that whether this poor wild wretch was the better for me or no, I
had great reason to be thankful that ever he came to me. My grief
sat lighter upon me, my habitation grew comfortable to me beyond
measure; and when I reflected that in this solitary life which I
had been confined to, I had not only been moved myself to look up
to Heaven and to seek to the Hand that had brought me there, but
was now to be made an instrument under Providence to save the life
and, for aught I knew, the soul of a poor savage, and bring him to
the true knowledge of religion, and of the Christian doctrine, that
he might know Christ Jesus, to know whom is life eternal; I say,
when I reflected upon all these things, a secret joy ran through
every part of my soul, and I frequently rejoiced that ever I was
brought to this place, which I had so often thought the most
dreadful of all afflictions that could possibly have befallen
me.
In this thankful frame I continued all the
remainder of my time, and the conversation which employed the hours
between Friday and I was such as made the three years which we
lived there together perfectly and completely happy, if any such
thing as complete happiness can be formed in a sublunary state. The
savage was now a good Christian, a much better than I; though I
have reason to hope, and bless God for it, that we were equally
penitent, and comforted, restored penitents; we had here the Word
of God to read and no farther off from His Spirit to instruct than
if we had been in England.
I always applied myself to reading the Scripture to
let him know, as well as I could, the meaning of what I read; and
he again, by his serious inquiries and questions, made me, as I
said before, a much better scholar in the Scripture knowledge than
I should ever have been by my own private mere reading. Another
thing I cannot refrain from observing here also, from experience in
this retired part of my life, viz., how infinite and inexpressible
a blessing it is that the knowledge of God and of the doctrine of
salvation by Christ Jesus is so plainly laid down in the Word of
God, so easy to be received and understood, that as the bare
reading the Scripture made me capable of understanding enough of my
duty to carry me directly on to the great work of sincere
repentance for my sins, and laying hold of a Saviour for life and
salvation, to a stated reformation in practice, and obedience to
all God’s commands, and this without any teacher or instructor (I
mean, human), so the same plain instruction sufficiently served to
the enlightening this savage creature and bringing him to be such a
Christian as I have known few equal to him in my life.
As to all the disputes, wranglings, strife, and
contention which has happened in the world about religion, whether
niceties in doctrines, or schemes of church government, they were
all perfectly useless to us; as, for aught I can yet see, they have
been to all the rest in the world. We had the sure guide to Heaven,
viz., the Word of God; and we had, blessed be God, comfortable
views of the Spirit of God, teaching and instructing us by His
Word, leading us into all truth, and making us both willing and
obedient to the instruction of His Word; and I cannot see the least
use that the greatest knowledge of the disputed points in religion,
which have made such confusions in the world, would have been to
us, if we could have obtained it; but I must go on with the
historical part of things, and take every part in its order.
After Friday and I became more intimately
acquainted, and that he could understand almost all I said to him
and speak fluently, though in broken English, to me, I acquainted
him with my own story, or at least so much of it as related to my
coming into the place, how I had lived there, and how long. I let
him into the mystery, for such it was to him, of gunpowder and
bullet, and taught him how to shoot. I gave him a knife, which he
was wonderfully delighted with, and I made him a belt, with a frog
hanging to it, such as in England we wear hangers in; and in the
frog, instead of a hanger, I gave him a hatchet, which was not only
as good a weapon, in some cases, but much more useful upon other
occasions.
I described to him the country of Europe, and
particularly England, which I came from; how we lived, how we
worshipped God, how we behaved to one another; and how we traded in
ships to all parts of the world. I gave him an account of the wreck
which I had been on board of, and showed him as near as I could the
place where she lay; but she was all beaten in pieces before, and
gone.
I showed him the ruins of our boat, which we lost
when we escaped, and which I could not stir with my whole strength
then, but was now fallen almost all to pieces. Upon seeing this
boat, Friday stood musing a great while, and said nothing; I asked
him what it was he studied upon; at last says he, ‘‘Me see such
boat like come to place at my nation.’’
I did not understand him a good while; but at last,
when I had examined further into it, I understood by him that a
boat, such as that had been, came on shore upon the country where
he lived; that is, as he explained it, was driven thither by stress
of weather. I presently imagined that some European ship must have
been cast away upon their coast, and the boat might get loose and
drive ashore; but was so dull that I never once thought of men
making escape from a wreck thither, much less whence they might
come; so I only inquired after a description of the boat.
Friday described the boat to me well enough, but
brought me better to understand him when he added with some warmth,
‘‘We save the white mans from drown.’’ Then I presently asked him
if there were any white mans, as he called them, in the boat.
‘‘Yes,’’ he said, ‘‘the boat full of white mans.’’ I asked him how
many; he told upon his fingers seventeen. I asked him then what
became of them; he told me, ‘‘They live, they dwell at my
nation.’’
This put new thoughts into my head; for I presently
imagined that these might be the men belonging to the ship that was
cast away in sight of my island, as I now call it; and who, after
the ship was struck on the rock and they saw her inevitably lost,
had saved themselves in their boat and were landed upon that wild
shore among the savages.
Upon this I inquired of him more critically what
was become of them. He assured me they lived still there; that they
had been there about four years; that the savages let them alone,
and gave them victuals to live. I asked him how it came to pass
they did not kill them and eat them. He said, ‘‘No, they make
brother with them’’; that is, as I understood him, a truce. And
then he added, ‘‘They no eat mans but when make the war fight’’;
that is to say, they never eat any men but such as come to fight
with them and are taken in battle.
It was after this some considerable time that being
on the top of the hill, at the east side of the island, from
whence, as I have said, I had in a clear day discovered the main,
or continent of America, Friday, the weather being very serene,
looks very earnestly towards the mainland, and in a kind of
surprise falls a-jumping and dancing, and calls out to me, for I
was at some distance from him. I asked him what was the matter. "O
joy!’’ says he, "O glad! There see my country, there my
nation!’’
I observed an extraordinary sense of pleasure
appeared in his face, and his eyes sparkled, and his countenance
discovered a strange eagerness, as if he had a mind to be in his
own country again; and this observation of mine put a great many
thoughts into me, which made me at first not so easy about my new
man Friday as I was before; and I made no doubt but that if Friday
could get back to his own nation again, he would not only forget
all his religion but all his obligation to me; and would be forward
enough to give his countrymen an account of me, and come back,
perhaps with a hundred or two of them, and make a feast upon me, at
which he might be as merry as he used to be with those of his
enemies, when they were taken in war.
But I wronged the poor honest creature very much,
for which I was very sorry afterwards. However, as my jealousy
increased, and held me some weeks, I was a little more circumspect,
and not so familiar and kind to him as before; in which I was
certainly in the wrong too, the honest grateful creature having no
thought about it but what consisted with the best principles, both
as a religious Christian and as a grateful friend, as appeared
afterwards to my full satisfaction.
While my jealousy of him lasted, you may be sure I
was every day pumping him to see if he would discover any of the
new thoughts which I suspected were in him; but I found everything
he said was so honest and so innocent that I could find nothing to
nourish my suspicion; and in spite of all my uneasiness he made me
at last entirely his own again; nor did he in the least perceive
that I was uneasy, and therefore I could not suspect him of
deceit.
One day, walking up the same hill, but the weather
being hazy at sea so that we could not see the continent, I called
to him, and said, ‘‘Friday, do not you wish yourself in your own
country, your own nation?’’ ‘‘Yes,’’ he said, ‘‘I be much O glad to
be at my nation.’’ ‘‘What would you do there?’’ said I. ‘‘Would you
turn wild again, eat men’s flesh again, and be a savage as you were
before?’’ He looked full of concern, and shaking his head, said,
‘‘No, no, Friday tell them to live good, tell them to pray God,
tell them to eat corn bread, cattle flesh, milk, no eat man
again.’’ ‘‘Why then,’’ said I to him, ‘‘they will kill you.’’ He
looked grave at that, and then said, ‘‘No, they no kill me, they
willing love learn.’’ He meant by this, they would be willing to
learn. He added, they learned much of the bearded mans that come in
the boat. Then I asked him if he would go back to them. He smiled
at that and told me he could not swim so far. I told him I would
make a canoe for him. He told me he would go, if I would go with
him. ‘‘I go!’’ says I. ‘‘Why, they will eat me if I come there.’’
‘‘No, no,’’ says he, ‘‘me make they no eat you; me make they much
love you.’’ He meant he would tell them how I had killed his
enemies and saved his life, and so he would make them love me; then
he told me as well as he could how kind they were to seventeen
white men, or bearded men, as he called them, who came on shore
there in distress.
From this time, I confess, I had a mind to venture
over, and see if I could possibly join with these bearded men, who,
I made no doubt, were Spaniards or Portuguese; not doubting but, if
I could, we might find some method to escape from thence, being
upon the continent, and a good company together, better than I
could from an island forty miles off the shore, and alone without
help. So after some days I took Friday to work again, by way of
discourse, and told him I would give him a boat to go back to his
own nation; and accordingly I carried him to my frigate, which lay
on the other side of the island, and having cleared it of water,
for I always kept it sunk in the water, I brought it out, showed it
him, and we both went into it.
I found he was a most dexterous fellow at managing
it, would make it go almost as swift and fast again as I could; so
when he was in, I said to him, ‘‘Well, now, Friday, shall we go to
your nation?’’ He looked very dull at my saying so, which, it
seems, was because he thought the boat too small to go so far. I
told him then I had a bigger; so the next day I went to the place
where the first boat lay which I had made, but which I could not
get into the water. He said that was big enough; but then, as I had
taken no care of it, and it had lain two or three and twenty years
there, the sun had split and dried it, that it was in a manner
rotten. Friday told me such a boat would do very well and would
carry ‘‘much talking.
Upon the whole, I was by this time so fixed upon my
design of going over with him to the continent, that I told him we
would go and make one as big as that, and he should go home in it.
He answered not one word, but looked very grave and sad. I asked
him what was the matter with him; he asked me again thus, ‘‘Why you
angry mad with Friday, what me done?’’ I asked him what he meant; I
told him I was not angry with him at all. ‘‘No angry! no angry!’’
says he, repeating the words several times, ‘‘Why send Friday home
away to my nation? ’’ ‘‘Why,’’ says I, ‘‘Friday, did you not say
you wished you were there?’’ ‘‘Yes, yes,’’ says he, ‘‘wish be both
there, no wish Friday there, no Master there.’’ In a word, he would
not think of going there without me. ‘‘I go there, Friday!’’ says
I. ‘‘What shall I do there?’’ He turned very quick upon me at this:
‘‘You do great deal much good,’’ says he, ‘‘you teach wild mans be
good sober tame mans; you tell them know God, pray God, and live
new life.’’ ‘‘Alas, Friday,’’ says I, ‘‘thou knowest not what thou
sayest. I am but an ignorant man myself.’’ ‘‘Yes, yes,’’ says he,
‘‘you teachee me good, you teachee them good.’’ ‘‘No, no, Friday,’’
says I, ‘‘you shall go without me, leave me here to live by myself,
as I did before.’’ He looked confused again at that word, and
running to one of the hatchets which he used to wear, he takes it
up hastily, and gives it to me. ‘‘What must I do with this?’’ says
I to him. ‘‘You take kill Friday,’’ says he. ‘‘What must I kill you
for?’’ said I again. He returns very quick, ‘‘What you send Friday
away for? Take kill Friday, no send Friday away.’’ This he spoke so
earnestly that I saw tears stand in his eyes. In a word, I so
plainly discovered the utmost affection in him to me, and a firm
resolution in him, that I told him then, and often after, that I
would never send him away from me, if he was willing to stay with
me.
Upon the whole, as I found by all his discourse a
settled affection to me, and that nothing should part him from me,
so I found all the foundation of his desire to go to his own
country was laid in his ardent affection to the people, and his
hopes of my doing them good; a thing, which as I had no notion of
myself, so I had not the least thought or intention or desire of
undertaking it. But still I found a strong inclination to my
attempting an escape, as above, founded on the supposition gathered
from the discourse, viz., that there were seventeen bearded men
there; and therefore, without any more delay, I went to work with
Friday to find out a great tree proper to fell, and make a large
piragua or canoe to undertake the voyage. There were trees enough
in the island to have built a little fleet, not of piraguas and
canoes, but even of good large vessels. But the main thing I looked
at was to get one so near the water that we might launch it when it
was made, to avoid the mistake I committed at first.
At last, Friday pitched upon a tree, for I found he
knew much better than I what kind of wood was fittest for it; nor
can I tell, to this day, what wood to call the tree we cut down,
except that it was very like the tree we call fustic, or
between that and the Nicaragua wood, for it was much of the same
colour and smell. Friday was for burning the hollow or cavity of
this tree out, to make it for a boat. But I showed him how rather
to cut it out with tools, which after I showed him how to use, he
did very handily; and in about a month’s hard labour, we finished
it and made it very handsome, especially when with our axes, which
I showed him how to handle, we cut and hewed the outside into the
true shape of a boat; after this, however, it cost us near a
fortnight’s time to get her along, as it were, inch by inch, upon
great rollers into the water. But when she was in, she would have
carried twenty men with great ease.
When she was in the water, and though she was so
big, it amazed me to see with what dexterity and how swift my man
Friday would manage her, turn her, and paddle her along; so I asked
him if he would, and if we might venture over in her. ‘‘Yes,’’ he
said, ‘‘he venture over in her very well, though great blow wind.’’
However, I had a further design that he knew nothing of, and that
was to make a mast and sail, and to fit her with an anchor and
cable. As to a mast, that was easy enough to get; so I pitched upon
a straight young cedar tree, which I found near the place, and
which there was great plenty of in the island; and I set Friday to
work to cut it down, and gave him directions how to shape and order
it. But as to the sail, that was my particular care; I knew I had
old sails, or rather pieces of old sails, enough; but as I had had
them now twenty-six years by me and had not been very careful to
preserve them, not imagining that I should ever have this kind of
use for them, I did not doubt but they were all rotten; and indeed
most of them were so; however, I found two pieces which appeared
pretty good, and with these I went to work, and with a great deal
of pains, and awkward tedious stitching (you may be sure) for want
of needles, I at length made a three-cornered ugly thing, like what
we call in England a shoulder-of-mutton sail, to go with a boom at
bottom, and a little short sprit at the top, such as usually our
ships’ longboats sail with, and such as I best knew how to manage;
because it was such a one as I had to the boat in which I made my
escape from Barbary, as related in the first part of my
story.
I was near two months performing this last work,
viz., rigging and fitting my mast and sails; for I finished them
very complete, making a small stay, and a sail, or foresail to it,
to assist, if we should turn to windward; and which was more than
all, I fixed a rudder to the stern of her, to steer with; and
though I was but a bungling ship-wright, yet as I knew the
usefulness and even necessity of such a thing, I applied myself
with so much pains to do it that at last I brought it to pass,
though considering the many dull contrivances I had for it that
failed, I think it cost me almost as much labour as making the
boat.
After all this was done too, I had my man Friday to
teach as to what belonged to the navigation of my boat; for though
he knew very well how to paddle a canoe, he knew nothing what
belonged to a sail and a rudder, and was the most amazed when he
saw me work the boat to and again in the sea by the rudder, and how
the sail jibed, and filled this way or that way, as the course we
sailed changed; I say, when he saw this, he stood like one
astonished and amazed. However, with a little use I made all these
things familiar to him; and he became an expert sailor, except that
as to the compass, I could make him understand very little of that.
On the other hand, as there was very little cloudy weather, and
seldom or never any fogs in those parts, there was the less
occasion for a compass, seeing the stars were always to be seen by
night and the shore by day, except in the rainy seasons, and then
nobody cared to stir abroad, either by land or sea.
I was now entered on the seven and twentieth year
of my captivity in this place; though the three last years that I
had this creature with me ought rather to be left out of the
account, my habitation being quite of another kind than in all the
rest of the time. I kept the anniversary of my landing here with
the same thankfulness to God for His mercies as at first; and if I
had such cause of acknowledgement at first, I had much more so now,
having such additional testimonies of the care of Providence over
me, and the great hopes I had of being effectually and speedily
delivered; for I had an invincible impression upon my thoughts that
my deliverance was at hand, and that I should not be another year
in this place. However, I went on with my husbandry, digging,
planting, fencing, as usual; I gathered and cured my grapes, and
did every necessary thing, as before.
The rainy season was in the meantime upon me, when
I kept more within doors than at other times; so I had stowed our
new vessel as secure as we could, bringing her up into the creek,
where, as I said in the beginning, I landed my rafts from the ship
and, hauling her up to the shore, at high-water mark, I made my man
Friday dig a little dock, just big enough to hold her, and just
deep enough to give her water enough to float in; and then when the
tide was out, we made a strong dam across the end of it, to keep
the water out; and so she lay dry, as to the tide, from the sea;
and to keep the rain off, we laid a great many boughs of trees so
thick that she was as well thatched as a house; and thus we waited
for the months of November and December, in which I designed to
make my adventure.