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    <title>EN231/163: Literature of the British Isles</title>
    <author>thowe</author>
    <id>EN231163LiteratureoftheBritishIsles8</id>
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                <funder>The National Endowment for the Humanities</funder>
                <principal ref="editors.xml#JOB">John O'Brien</principal>
                <principal ref="editors.xml#TH">Tonya Howe</principal>
                <principal ref="editors.xml#CR">Christine Ruotolo</principal>
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  <div>          <p>
      <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/doyle-sign/notes/Sir_Arthur_Conan_Doyle_1890.jpeg" style="float:right" width="300px" alt="Photographic portrait of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1890) by Herbert Barraud" source="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Arthur_Conan_Doyle_by_Herbert_Rose_Barraud_1893.jpg" desc="Photographic portrait of Doyle (1890)"/>Arthur Conan Doyle (1859-1930)
                was born in Edinburgh, Scotland, in May of 1859, to Irish Catholic parents; his
                father was an alcoholic who experienced significant psychiatric illness throughout
                his life, but Doyle was very close to his mother. For a period of their lives, the
                family lived in characteristically squalid tenement housing. He was sent to live and
                study in England as a child, and he eventually rejected the faith of his parents and
                became agnostic. In his twenties, he studied medicine at the University of
                Edinburgh, and he began writing during that period of his life with some minor
                successes. After graduating, he served briefly as a ship’s surgeon traveling to West
                Africa, and then set up a series of unsuccessful medical practices. After marrying
                twice, first to Louisa Hawkins and after her death to Jean Leckie, he returned to
                South Africa where he served as a field surgeon during the Second Boer War. Elements
                in his own biography therefore connect Doyle to James Watson, the doctor and
                military man. Like Watson, Doyle was also athletic; he played soccer, cricket, and
                golf, among other sports, and he boxed, as well. He eventually turned to writing—as
                does Watson—as a way to make his living, though he never stopped studying medicine,
                which became an important part of his most famous literary creations. The image included here is a photograph of Doyle from 1890, by Herbert Rose Barraud (1845-1896), in the public domain.</p>
            <p> Doyle’s first Sherlock Holmes story was <hi rend="italic">A Study in Scarlet</hi>,
                which he wrote in three weeks and published in 1886. <hi rend="italic">The Sign of
                    Four</hi>, the second Holmes and Watson story, was published in Lippincott’s
                Magazine of February 1890. These stories became highly popular, though Doyle himself
                thought they “[took his] mind from better things” and he killed Holmes off in a 1893
                story. However, the public was so upset that the character had been killed that
                Doyle was forced to resurrect him in 1901. Overall, Doyle wrote 60 pieces featuring
                the detective, who has remained an iconic figure, and the subject of much recreation
                in print and film—but Doyle wrote other material, as well, including theatrical
                pieces for the stage. </p>
            <p> Doyle modeled Sherlock Holmes on one of his professors at the University of
                Edinburgh, Dr. Joseph Bell, who advocated close empirical study and deductive
                thinking as the chief tools in diagnostic medicine, is sometimes seen as a
                progenitor of modern forensic science. Among other investigative activities, Bell
                consulted with Scotland Yard on the notorious Jack the Ripper murders, and he also
                served as Queen Victoria’s private physician when she visited Scotland. </p>
            <p> <hi rend="italic">Literature in Context</hi> contains three Doyle pieces: <hi rend="italic">The Speckled Band</hi>, <hi rend="italic">The Copper Beeches</hi>, and <hi rend="italic">The Sign of Four</hi>.</p>
            </div>
            <div> <head type="sub">
                            <hi rend="italic">The Sign of Four</hi> (1888)</head>
                <p>It is impossible to understand <hi rend="italic">The Sign of Four</hi> without
                considering several important contexts. Doyle wrote during the Victorian and
                Edwardian eras, and he died in 1930—after seeing several wars, including the First
                World War, reshape the modern world. The 19th century was known for its quickly
                growing economy, characterized by factory labor and industrialization. During the
                period of this novella, London was an incredibly dirty and polluted city as a
                result. This was a truly class-based society, with a middle class and a working
                class that saw themselves as such, distinct groups of people with characteristic
                traits and interests. But class was not just about income; it is both economic and
                cultural, extending to what sort of occupation and education you had, how your
                family was structured, political beliefs, sexuality, and even how you spent your
                free time—those who read the “penny dreadfuls” of the day were not in the same class
                as those who read Greek or Latin, or even the “classics” of British literature.
                Science was popularized as a form of entertainment—mesmerism, electricity, and
                photography were all entertainment economies that grew out of scientific
                developments of the 19th century, and Doyle himself was a spiritualist (he met Harry
                Houdini!). Literacy was rapidly growing, and print had reached truly popular
                proportions--magazines, circulating libraries, newspapers made both knowledge and
                entertainment common and accessible. Like other Holmes and Watson tales, <hi rend="italic">The Sign of Four</hi>, like most of Doyle's Watson and Holmes tales, was published in periodical form, easily
                accessible by almost any reader. It was not, however, serialized because of its
                short length. In the 19th century, many novelists published “serially,” meaning
                their works were released piecemeal in magazines, and therefore more accessible to
                working and middle-class readerships. </p>
            <p> An important element of this material context is the gender ideology of the
                Victorian period. While the vote was expanding and women’s suffrage was in full
                swing, women were seen in a paradoxical light. On the one hand, femininity was seen
                as central to the moral power of the middle class; and yet, women are separated
                fully from the masculine world of Watson and Holmes. Victorian gender roles are very
                much in evidence in <hi rend="italic">The Sign of Four</hi>; consider that Dr.
                Watson’s central conflict is how to negotiate the conventions of class and gender
                that keep him from romantically pursuing Miss Morstan. It is often—and
                falsely—claimed that the Victorian era is a “sexually repressed” period; in reality,
                sexuality and gender were highly monitored. Pay attention to the way that Doyle
                reveals the subtle landscape of acceptable and unacceptable gender norms. What
                attitudes shape the gendered depiction of Mary Morstan? Thaddeus Sholto? Holmes?
                Watson? </p>
            
                <p> <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/doyle-sign/notes/British_Empire_1897.jpeg" style="float:right" width="300px" alt="Map of the world in 1897, with British imperial possessions noted in red" source="https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:British_Empire_1897.jpg" desc="1897 map of the world, British posessions noted in red"/>During the Victorian period, Britain was the most powerful empire in the world, with
                territories across the globe. In the image here, an 1897 map of the world, British imperial possessions are noted in red. It was said that “the sun never sets on the British
                empire,” referring both to the fact that there were British colonies all around the
                world (there was always a place where the sun had not yet set), and the belief that
                the empire would persist in perpetuity. Despite its immense wealth, much of that
                wealth was consolidated at the top. Because of the shifting economy, there were very
                high numbers of individuals in poverty—think of Holmes’ “Street Arabs.” About 75% of
                the whole population of London was in poverty. Virtually none of the vast wealth of
                the empire trickled down to the working classes, but it was precisely this colonial
                income that grew the middle classes, increasingly seen as the “moral center” of
                English society. The story of <hi rend="italic">The Sign of Four</hi> is driven by
                this colonial context; the mystery at the heart of the tale is a stolen treasure
                that once belonged to India, while the very English Miss Mary Morstan in some ways
                represents all that must be kept safe from the dangerous non-English world, and yet
                is also the rightful beneficiary of the wealth of empire. As you read, pay attention
                to the way that “civility” and “Englishness” are represented. To what are these
                features opposed? How are “the Four” characterized? What about the Sholtos and
                Captain Morstan? Tonga? If we think of <hi rend="italic">The Sign of Four</hi> as an
                imperial tale, what roles do Watson and Holmes play? </p>
            <p> Two specific elements of England’s imperialism are essential for understanding <hi rend="italic">The Sign of Four</hi>. Doyle himself served as a field surgeon in
                the Boer War, as Watson did in the Second Anglo-Afghan War. The Boer War (1899-1902)
                was fought between the British Empire and two independent Boer states over the
                British Empire's influence in South Africa. The “Boers” (now often termed
                Afrikaners) are the Dutch-speaking descendants of 17th and 18th century colonial
                settlers. The Boer republics were annexed by Britain to became South Africa. During
                this time, Britain also administered Egypt—which Doyle also visited. The Second
                Afghan war (1878-1880) was fought between Britain and the Afghan state because
                then—as today—Britain was worried about Russian influence in the region. Doyle’s
                personal experience in South Africa, Watson’s experience in Afghanistan, and with
                the vivid presentness of the global world to the Victorian English more broadly is
                important to keep in mind as you read. </p>
            <p> But perhaps even more significant than the Boer war for <hi rend="italic">The Sign
                    of Four</hi>, however, is the British colonization of India, which is the direct
                backdrop against which the novella is set. In 1600, the East India Company was set
                up to facilitate trade principally between England and the Asian subcontinent. The
                EIC dominated trade in all the luxury goods of the time, as well as in saltpetre, a
                chief ingredient in gunpowder, and it had its own vast armies. From 1757 to 1858,
                the East India Company essentially ruled India. Indians resisted Company rule, and
                this resistance came to a head with the Indian Rebellion of 1857—sometimes called
                the Sepoy Mutiny or the First Indian War of Independence. There are many reasons for
                the rebellion, including British administrative practices, military authority,
                traditional caste systems, religious division, and more. But the tipping point came
                with a new munition the Company gave to its soldiers, including the Sepoys—Indian
                members of the Company army. The bullets were initially greased with animal fat,
                deeply offensive to both Hindus and Muslims. The rebellion ignited, and it would
                last for three years. Widespread atrocities led to hundreds of thousands of Indian
                deaths, and a large number of British in India were also killed. The Rebellion led
                to the end of Company rule and saw the creation of the “British Raj,” or was
                monarchial administrative rule. Queen Victoria became the Empress of India in 1877.
                    <hi rend="italic">The Sign of Four</hi> was published in 1890, but is set
                against the backdrop of the Indian Rebellion, and the penal colonies set up in the
                Andaman Islands, where “the Four” were imprisoned; Tonga is also a native Andaman.
                Captain Morstan and his comrades were stationed in the penal colony, and through
                their machinations, the treasure stolen by the Four during the Rebellion in turn
                made its way to England. It is the quest to discover this treasure and uncover its
                history that sets the plot of Doyle’s novella in motion. </p>
            <p> Both because of Britain’s long history and its global concerns, London was a
                multicultural city, a modern city, a mercantile city. <hi rend="italic">The Sign of
                    Four</hi> tells a story that is beholden to those values—in addition to being a
                rollicking good read. </p>
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                  <title type="main">The Life and Strange Surprizing Adventures of Robinson Crusoe</title>
                  
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                     <publisher>William Taylor</publisher>
                     <date when="1719-04-25">1719</date>
                     <note resp="editors.xml#JOB">This edition is based on the digital edition prepared by the Text Creation Partnership, which reproduces the first edition of 1719. We have added annotations and included audio files from the Librivox spoken-work version.</note>
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               <p>Research informing these annotations draws on publicly-accessible resources, with
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                  notice an error in these annotations, please contact
                  lic.open.anthology@gmail.com.</p>
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                  <ref target="Title_" corresp="Title">THE<lb/> LIFE<lb/> AND STRANGE SURPRIZING<lb/> ADVENTURES<lb/> OF<lb/> ROBINSON CRUSOE,<lb/>
                                </ref>
                                <note xml:id="Title" target="Title_">
                                    <p>
                                        <hi rend="italic">The Life and Strange Surprizing Adventures of Robinson Crusoe</hi> is one of those books that we all know even if we have never read it. With his first work of fiction, Daniel Defoe--a businessman turned poet, journalist, and political propagandist--created a character who very quickly went on to have a life that went well beyond the pages of the book that first appeared, without build-up, fanfare, or even the author's name on the title page, in April 1719. <hi rend="italic">Robinson Crusoe</hi> was an immediate bestseller; the bookseller went through several editions in the first year alone. By August, Defoe had produced a sequel, <hi rend="italic">The Farther Adventures of Robinson Crusoe</hi>, a work that he wrote quickly in part to head off the possibility that someone else might beat him to it. Over the last three hundred years, the story of a person isolated on a deserted island or something like it, has been used by dozens, maybe hundreds of writers, who have made it a genre of its own, the "Robinsoniad," a genre that includes satirical parodies like <hi rend="italic">Gulliver's Travels</hi>, children's books like <hi rend="italic">The Swiss Family Robinson</hi>, Bugs Bunny cartoons, television situation comedies like <hi rend="italic">Gilligan's Island</hi>, and science fiction works like the 2015 film <hi rend="italic">The Martian</hi>. Robinson Crusoe, the man and the book in which he first appeared, has become one of the foundational myths of the modern world.The story of one man's survival has become so well known in all of these instances that it can be difficult to see through the mythology to analyze Defoe's original book and to imagine what its first readers might have noticed and found so striking. It is important to recognize, for example, that the book is told in the first person, by a narrator who never lets on that this is a work of fiction. Defoe's name, as noted above, did not appear on the title page of the first edition (although it quickly became clear to those in the know that he was the author), or even in any of the many editions issued in his lifetime. Although the book is famous for the many years that Crusoe spends on the island, it takes a while for him to get there, and his experiences both before and after his time there are worth paying attention to for the way that they frame the central experience. Defoe's prose is sometimes clunky-he has a tendency to shape sentences and paragraphs that would never pass muster with a modern copyeditor--but it is also capable of great beauty and insight, and rewards careful attention.</p>
                     
                     <p>Perhaps most important, this is not a "novel" in any sense that either Defoe or we would recognize. In 1719, that word was most typically associated with short works of romantic fiction. This book, by contrast, has no romance at all (one of the stranger things about it, in fact, is how little Crusoe thinks of sex), is very long, and grounds itself thoroughly in circumstantial details drawn from a world that can be identified and verified. <hi rend="italic">Robinson Crusoe</hi> dates its events precisely, and locates its scenes in real places that can be found on a map. (In fact, <hi rend="italic">The Farther Adventures</hi> includes a map, inviting the reader to trace its fictional hero's exploits as he were an explorer in the world.) Defoe is very likely basing at least parts of the story on the real-life experience of Alexander Selkirk, a Scottish sailor who had been left on a deserted island for several years. Even the slave trading voyage that Crusoe goes on that results in the shipwreck that isolates him was drawn from contemporary events; because of the outbreak of war with Spain in 1718, the English South Sea Company found itself unable to exercise its right to transport slaves from Africa to the Spanish colonies in the Americas, with the result that private merchants were undertaking such voyages, as Crusoe does. Contemporaries quickly recognized that Crusoe's story was fictional, but took a lot of pleasure in the way that it blurred the lines between the real world and the imagination. <hi rend="italic">Robinson Crusoe</hi> has remained perhaps the single most important, influential, and popular work of fiction in the English language ever since.</p>
                                </note>Of <hi rend="italic">YORK,</hi> MARINER:<lb/> Who lived Eight and Twenty Years all alone in <lb/> an un-inhabited Island on the Coast of AMERICA,<lb/> near the Mouth of the Great River of OROONOQUE;<lb/> Having been cast on Shore by Shipwreck, where<lb/>in all the Men perished but himself.<lb/>
                  WITH <lb/> An Account how he was at last as strangely<lb/> deliver'd by PYRATES.<lb/>
                  Written by Himself.
               </titlePart>
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            <lb/>
                        <docImprint>
                            <pubPlace>
                                <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">
                                    <hi rend="italic">LONDON:</hi> <lb/>Printed for W. TAYLOR at the <hi rend="italic">Ship</hi> in <hi rend="italic">Pater-Noster-Row.</hi>
                                </placeName>
                            </pubPlace>
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                        <lb/>
                        <docDate>MDCCXIX.</docDate>
            
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         <pb/>
         <div type="Frontispiece">
           
            <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/crusoe-frontispiece.png" style="float:center" width="500px" alt="Frontispiece from the first edition of 1719" source="https://www.bl.uk/" desc="Frontispiece image of Robinson Crusoe"/>
         </div>
         <pb/>
         <div type="Preface">
            
            <head>THE PREFACE.</head>
            <p>IF ever the Story of any private Man's Adventures in the World were worth making
               Publick, and were acceptable when Publish'd, the Editor of this Account thinks this
               will be so.</p>
            <p>The Wonders of this Man's Life exceed all that (he thinks) is to be found extant; the
               Life of one Man being scarce capable of a greater Variety.</p>
            <p>The Story is told with Modesty, with Seriousness, and with a
               religious Application of Events to the Uses to which wise Men <pb/> always apply them (<ref target="viz_" corresp="viz">viz.</ref>)<note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="viz" target="viz_" type="gloss">An abbreviation for the Latin videlicet, meaning "namely." Source:
                  <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note> to the Instruction of others by this Example, and to justify and honour the Wisdom of Providence in
               all the Variety of our Circumstances, let them happen how they will.</p>
            <p>The Editor believes the thing to be a just History of Fact; neither is there any Appearance of Fiction in it: And however
               thinks, because all such things are dispatch'd, that the Improvement of it, as well
               to the Diversion, as to the Instruction of the Reader, will be the same; and as such,
               he thinks, without farther Compliment to the World, he does
               them a great Service in the Publication.</p>
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      <body>
         <div type="fiction">
            <pb/>
            <head>THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOE, <hi rend="italic">&amp;c.</hi>
            </head>
                        <head> <ref target="Audio_" corresp="Audio">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio" target="Audio_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_01_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            <p>
              I Was born in the Year 1632, in the City of
                  <placeName type="tgn" key="7011995">
                                <hi rend="italic">York,</hi>
                            </placeName> of a good Family, tho' not of that Country, my Father being a Foreigner of <placeName key="tgn" type="7005286">
                                <ref target="bremen_" corresp="bremen">Bremen,</ref>
                            </placeName>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="bremen" target="bremen_" type="gloss">A city in Northern Germany. Source: Wikipedia</note>
               who settled first at <hi rend="italic">Hull:</hi> He got a good Estate by Merchandise, and leaving
               off his Trade, lived afterward at <hi rend="italic">York,</hi> from whence he had married my
               Mother, whose Relations were named <hi rend="italic">Robinson,</hi> a very good Family in that
               Country, and from whom I was called <ref target="kreutznaer_" corresp="kreutznaer">Robinson Kreutznaer;</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="kreutznaer" target="kreutznaer_" type="gloss">In naming his title
                  character "Crusoe," Defoe may be recalling his childhood schoolmate Timothy Cruso
                  (1656-1697), who would go on to a prominent career as a Presbyterian minister. The
                  name "Kreutznaer," from which Crusoe tells us his name is derived, is suggestive
                  of the Christian cross. And the fact that Crusoe lives his adult life with a name
                  other than that he was born with links him both to Defoe, who was born simply
                  Daniel Foe, and Alexander Selkirk, who was born Alexander Selcraig.</note> but by
               the usual Corruption of Words in <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> we are now called, nay we call our
               selves, and write our Name <hi rend="italic">Crusoe,</hi> and so my Companions always call'd
               me.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="2"/>I had two elder Brothers, one of which was
               Lieutenant Collonel to an <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Regiment of Foot in <hi rend="italic">Flanders,</hi>
               formerly commanded by the famous Coll. <hi rend="italic">Lockhart,</hi> and was killed at the
               Battle near <hi rend="italic">Dunkirk</hi> inagast the <hi rend="italic">Spaniards:</hi> What became of my second
               Brother I never knew any more than my Father or Mother did know what was become of
               me.</p>
            <p>Being the third Son of the Family, and not bred to any Trade, my Head began to be
               fill'd very early with rambling Thoughts: My Father, who was very ancient, had given
               me a competent Share of Learning, as far as House-Education, and a Country
               Free-School generally goes, and design'd me for the Law; but I would be satisfied
               with nothing but going to Sea, and my Inclination to this
               led me so strongly against the Will, nay the Commands of my
               Father, and against all the Entreaties and Perswasions of my Mother and other
               Friends, that there seem'd to be something fatal in that Propension of Nature tending directly to the Life of Misery which was to befal me.</p>
            <p>My Father, a wise and grave Man, gave me serious and excellent Counsel against what
               he foresaw was my <ref target="design_" corresp="design">Design</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="design" target="design_" type="gloss">Intended purpose. Source: Oxford English
                  Dictionary</note>. He call'd me one Morning into his
               Chamber, where he was confined by the Gout, and expostulated very <ref target="warmly_" corresp="warmly">warmly</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="warmly" target="warmly_" type="gloss">Vehemently. Source: Oxford English Dictioanry</note> with me upon this Subject:
               He ask'd me what Reasons more than a meer wandring Inclination I had for leaving my
               Father's House and my native Country, where I might be well introduced, and had a
               Prospect of raising my Fortunes by Application and Industry,
               with a Life of Ease and Pleasure. He told me it was for Men of desperate Fortunes on
               one Hand, or of aspiring, superior Fortunes on the other, who went abroad upon
               Adventures, to rise by Enterprize, and make themselves famous in Undertakings of a Nature out of the common Road; <pb n="3"/> that these things were all either too far above me, or
               too far below me; that mine was the <ref target="middleclass_" corresp="middleclass">middle State</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="middleclass" target="middleclass_" type="gloss">A social middle class between the gentry and
                  the commons; the kind of place occupied in this era by the emergent merchant and
                  professional class. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note>, or what might be
               called the upper Station of <hi rend="italic">Low Life,</hi> which he had found by long Experience
               was the best State in the World, the most suited to human Happiness, not exposed to
               the Miseries and Hardships, the Labour and Sufferings of the <ref target="mechanick_" corresp="mechanick">mechanick</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="mechanick" target="mechanick_" type="gloss">Manual laboring. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note> Part of Mankind, and
               not embarass'd with the Pride, Luxury, Ambition and Envy of the upper Part of Mankind. He told me, I might judge of the
               Happiness of this State, by this one thing, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> That this was the State of
               Life which all other People envied, that Kings have frequently lamented the miserable Consequences of being born to great
               things, and wish'd they had been placed in the Middle of the two Extremes, between
               the Mean and the Great; that the wise Man gave his Testimony to this as the just
               Standard of true Felicity, when he prayed to have neither
               Poverty or Riches.</p>
            <p>He bid me observe it, and I should always find, that the Calamities of Life were
               shared among the upper and lower Part of Mankind; but that the middle Station had the
               fewest Disasters, and was not expos'd to so many Vicissitudes as the higher or lower
               Part of Mankind; nay, they were not subjected to so many
               Distempers and Uneasinesses either of Body or Mind, as those were who, by vicious
               Living, Luxury and Extravagancies on one Hand, or by hard Labour, Want of
               Necessaries, and mean or insufficient Diet on the other Hand, bring Distempers upon themselves by the natural Consequences of their Way of Living; <hi rend="italic">That</hi> the middle Station of Life was calculated for all kind of Vertues and all
               kinds of Enjoyments; that Peace and Plenty were the
               Hand-maids of a middle Fortune; that Temperance, Moderation, Quietness, Health, <pb n="4"/> Society, all agreeable Diversions, and all
               desirable Pleasures, were the Blessings attending the middle Station of Life; that
               this Way Men went silently and smoothly thro' the World, and comfortably out of it,
               not embarass'd with the Labours of the Hands or of the Head, not sold to the Life of
                  Slavery for daily Bread, or harrast with perplex'd Circumstances, which rob the Soul of Peace, and the Body of
               Rest; not enrag'd with the Passion of Envy, or secret
               burning Lust of Ambition for great things; but in easy Circumstances sliding gently
               thro' the World, and sensibly tasting the Sweets of living, without the bitter,
               feeling that they are happy, and learning by every Day's Experience to know it more
               sensibly.</p>
            <p>After this, he press'd me earnestly, and in the most affectionate manner, not to play
               the young Man, not to precipitate my self into Miseries which Nature and the Station
               of Life I was born in, seem'd to have provided against; that I was under no Necessity
               of seeking my Bread; that he would do well for me, and endeavour to enter me fairly
               into the Station of Life which he had been just recommending
               to me; and that if I was not very easy and happy in the
               World, it must be my meer Fate or Fault that must hinder it, and that he should have
               nothing to answer for, having thus discharg'd his Duty in
               warning me against Measures which he knew would be to my Hurt: In a word, that as he
               would do very kind things for me if I would stay and settle at Home as he directed,
               so he would not have so much Hand in my Misfortunes, as to
               give me any Encouragement to go away: And to close all, he told me I had my elder
               Brother for an Example, to whom he had used the same earnest Perswasions to keep him
               from going into the Low Country Wars, but could not prevail, <pb n="5"/> his young Desires
               prompting him to run into the Army where he was kill'd; and tho' he said he would not
               cease to pray for me, yet he would venture to say to me, that if I did take this
               foolish Step, God would not bless me, and I would have Leisure hereafter to reflect
               upon having neglected his Counsel when there might be none to assist in my
               Recovery.</p>
            <p>I observed in this last Part of his Discourse, which was truly Prophetick, tho' I
               suppose my Father did not know it to be so himself; I say, I observed the Tears run down his Face very plentifully, and especially when he spoke of my Brother who was
               kill'd; and that when he spoke of my having Leisure to repent, and none to assist me,
               he was so mov'd, that he broke off the Discourse, and told me, his Heart was so full
               he could say no more to me.</p>
            <p>I was sincerely affected with this Discourse, as indeed who could be otherwise; and I
               resolv'd not to think of going abroad any more, but to settle at home according to my
               Father's Desire. But alas! a few Days wore it all off; and in short, to prevent any
               of my Father's farther Importunities, in a few Weeks after, I resolv'd to run quite
               away from him. However, I did not act so hastily neither as my first Heat of
               Resolution prompted, but I took my Mother, at a time when I thought her a little
               pleasanter than ordinary, and told her, that my Thoughts were so entirely bent upon
               seeing the World, that I should never settle to any thing with Resolution enough to
               go through with it, and my Father had better give me his Consent than force me to go
               without it; that I was now Eighteen Years old, which was <ref target="apprentice_" corresp="apprentice">too late to go Apprentice to a Trade</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="apprentice" target="apprentice_" type="gloss">Crusoe is too old because apprenticeships in this period typically
                  began around the age of thirteen, and lasted seven years.</note>, or Clerk to an
               Attorney; that I was sure if I did, I should never serve out my time, and I <pb n="6"/> should certainly run away from my Master before my Time
               was out, and go to Sea; and if she would speak to my Father to let me go but one
               Voyage abroad, if I came home again and did not like it, I
               would go no more, and I would promise by a double Diligence to recover that Time I
               had lost.</p>
            <p>This put my Mother into a great Passion: She told me, she knew it would be to no
               Purpose to speak to my Father upon any such Subject; that he knew too well what was
               my Interest to give his Consent to any thing so much for my Hurt, and that she
                  wondered how I could think of any such thing after such a
               Discourse as I had had with my Father, and such kind and tender Expressions as she
               knew my Father had us'd to me; and that in short, if I would ruine my self there was
               no Help for me; but I might depend I should never have their
               Consent to it: That for her Part she would not have so much Hand in my Destruction;
               and I should never have it to say, that my Mother was willing when my Father was
               not.</p>
            <p>Tho' my Mother refused to move it to my Father, yet as I
               have heard afterwards, she reported all the Discourse to him, and that my Father,
               after shewing a great Concern at it, said to her with a Sigh, That Boy might be happy
               if he would stay at home, but if he goes abroad he will be the miserablest Wretch that was ever born: I can give no Consent
               to it.</p>
            <p>It was not till almost a Year after this that I broke loose, tho' in the mean time I
               continued obstinately deaf to all Proposals of settling to
               Business, and frequently expostulating with my Father and Mother, about their being
               so positively determin'd against what they knew my Inclinations prompted me to. But
               being one Day at <ref target="hull_" corresp="hull">Hull</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="hull" target="hull_" type="gloss">A
                  coastal town in southeast Yorkshire, on the river Humber leading out to the North
                  Sea, and a major port.</note>, where I went casually, and
               without any Purpose of making an <ref target="elope_" corresp="elope">Elopement</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="elope" target="elope_" type="gloss">That is, the general action of fleeing, with no
                  suggestion of a clandestine marriage. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note>
               that time; but I say, being there, and <pb n="7"/> one of my
               Companions being going by Sea to <hi rend="italic">London,</hi> in his Father's Ship, and prompting
               me to go with them, with the common Allurement of Seafaring Men, <hi rend="italic">viz</hi> That it
               should cost me nothing for my Passage, I consulted neither Father or Mother any more,
               nor so much as sent them Word of it; but leaving them to
               hear of it as they might, without asking God's Blessing, or my Father's, without any
                  Consideration of Circumstances or Consequences, and in an
               ill Hour, God knows. On the first of <hi rend="italic">September</hi> 1661
               I went on Board a Ship bound for <hi rend="italic">London</hi>; never any young Adventurer's
               Misfortunes, I believe, began sooner, or continued longer
               than mine. The Ship was no sooner gotten out of the <hi rend="italic">Humber,</hi> but the Wind began to blow, and the Winds to rise in a most frightful
               manner; and as I had never been at Sea before, I was most
               inexpressibly sick in Body, and terrify'd in my Mind: I began now seriously to reflect upon what I had done, and how justly I was overtaken by the Judgment of Heaven for my wicked
               leaving my Father's House, and abandoning my Duty; all the
               good Counsel of my Parents, my Father's Tears and my
               Mother's Entreaties came now fresh into my Mind, and my
               Conscience, which was not yet come to the Pitch of Hardness which it has been since,
               reproach'd me with the Contempt of Advice, and the Breach of my Duty to God and my
               Father.</p>
            <p>All this while the Storm encreas'd, and the Sea, which I had never been upon before,
               went very high, tho' nothing like what I have seen many times since; no, nor like
               what I saw a few Days after: But it was enough to affect me then, who was but a young
               Sailor, and had never known any thing of the matter. I expected every Wave would have
               swallowed us up, and that every time the Ship fell down, as I thought, in the Trough
               or Hollow <pb n="8"/> of the Sea, we should never rise more;
               and in this Agony of Mind, I made many Vows and Resolutions, that if it would please
               God here to spare my Life this one Voyage, if ever I got once my Foot upon dry Land
               again, I would go directly home to my Father, and never set it into a Ship again
               while I liv'd; that I would take his Advice, and never run my self into such Miseries
               as these any more. Now I saw plainly the Goodness of his Observations about the
               middle Station of Life, how easy, how comfortably he had liv'd all his Days, and
               never had been expos'd to Tempests at Sea, or Troubles on Shore; and I resolv'd that
               I would, like a true repenting <ref target="prodigal_" corresp="prodigal">Prodigal</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="prodigal" target="prodigal_" type="gloss">Alluding to the Biblical story of the prodigal
                  son, who left home, squandered his inheritance, and finally returned to his father
                  in shame, only to be forgiven for his folly. Source: Luke 15:11</note>, go home to
               my Father.</p>
            <p>These wise and sober Thoughts continued all the while the Storm continued, and indeed
               some time after; but the next Day the Wind was abated and
               the Sea calmer, and I began to be a little <ref target="inure_" corresp="inure">inur'd</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="inure" target="inure_" type="gloss">Accustomed. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note> to it: However I
               was very grave for all that Day, being also a little Sea sick still; but towards
               Night the Weather clear'd up, the Wind was quite over, and a charming fine Evening
               follow'd; the Sun went down perfectly clear and rose so the next Morning; and having
               little or no Wind and a smooth Sea, the Sun shining upon it, the Sight was, as I
               thought, the most delightful that ever I saw.</p>
            <p>I had slept well in the Night, and was now no more Sea sick but very chearful,
               looking with Wonder upon the Sea that was so rough and terrible the Day before, and could be so calm and so pleasant in so little time after.
               And now least my good Resolutions should continue, my Companion, who had indeed
               entic'd me away, comes to me, <hi rend="italic">Well</hi> Bob, says he, clapping me on the
               Shoulder, <hi rend="italic">How do you do after it? I warrant you were frighted, wa'n't you, last
                  Night, when it blew but a Cap full of <pb n="9"/> Wind? A
                  Cap full d'you call it?</hi> said I, <hi rend="italic">'twas a terrible
                  Storm: A Storm, you Fool you,</hi> replies he, <hi rend="italic">do you call that a Storm why it
                  was nothing at all; give us but a good Ship and Sea Room, and we think nothing of
                  such a Squal of Wind as that; but you're but a fresh Water Sailor,</hi> Bob;
                  <hi rend="italic">come let us make a Bowl of Punch and we'll forget all that, d'ye see what
                  charming Weather 'tis now.</hi> To make short this sad Part of my Story, we went
               the old way of all Sailors, the Punch was made, and I was made drunk with it, and in
               that one Night's Wickedness I drowned all my Repentance, all
               my Reflections upon my past Conduct, and all my Resolutions for my future. In a word,
               as the Sea was returned to its Smoothness of Surface and
               settled Calmness by the Abatement of that Storm, so the Hurry of my Thoughts being
               over, my Fears and Apprehensions of being swallow'd up by the Sea being forgotten,
               and the Current of my former Desires return'd, I entirely forgot the <ref target="vows_" corresp="vows">Vows and Promises</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="vows" target="vows_" type="gloss">This
                  account of how Crusoe forgot the vows he made fits well within the tradition of
                  the "sea-Providence," stories of others who testify how the urge to repent
                  prompted by a storm wears off as soon as the weather calms.</note> that I made in
               my Distress. I found indeed some Intervals of Reflection, and the serious Thoughts
               did, as it were endeavour to return again sometimes, but I
               shook them off, and rouz'd my self from them as it were from a Distemper, and applying my self to Drink and Company, soon master'd the Return of those Fits, for so I
               call'd them, and I had in five or six Days got as compleat a Victory over Conscience
               as any young, Fellow that resolv'd not to be troubled with it, could desire: But I
               was to have another Trial for it still; and Providence, as in such Cases generally it
               does, resolv'd to leave me entirely without Excuse. For if I would not take this for
               a Deliverance, the next was to be such a one as the worst and most Wretch among us
               would confess both the harden'd Danger and the Mercy.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="10"/>The sixth Day of our being at Sea we came into <ref target="yarmouth_" corresp="yarmouth">Yarmouth</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="yarmouth" target="yarmouth_" type="gloss">A stretch of sea east of the coastal town of Great
                  Yarmouth, in the English county of Norfolk.</note> Roads; the Wind having been
               contrary, and the Weather calm, we had made but little Way since the Storm. Here we
               were obliged to come to an Anchor, and here we lay, the Wind continuing contrary,
                  <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> at South-west, for seven or eight Days, during which time a great
               many Ships from <hi rend="italic">Newcastle</hi> came into the same Roads, as the common Harbour where the Ships might wait for a Wind for the
               River.</p>
            <p>We had not however <ref target="rid_" corresp="rid">rid</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="rid" target="rid_" type="gloss">Remained anchored;
                  floated stationary. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note> here so long, but
               should have <ref target="tide_" corresp="tide">Tided it</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="tide" target="tide_" type="gloss">Let the
                  tide carry them up. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note> up the River, but
               that the Wind blew too fresh; and after we had lain four or five Days, blew very
               hard. However, the Roads being reckoned as good as a Harbour, the Anchorage good, and
               our <ref target="groundtackle_" corresp="groundtackle">Ground-Tackle</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="groundtackle" target="groundtackle_" type="gloss">Equipment used to anchor the ship. Source: Oxford English
                  Dictionary</note> very strong, our Men were unconcerned, and not in the least
               apprehensive of Danger, but spent the Time in Rest and Mirth, after the manner of the
               Sea; but the eighth Day in the Morning, the Wind increased, and we had all Hands at
               Work to strike our Top-Masts, and make every thing snug and close, that the Ship
               might ride as easy as possible. By Noon the Sea went very high indeed, and our Ship
               rid <ref target="forecastle_" corresp="forecastle">Forecastle in,</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="forecastle" target="forecastle_" type="gloss">With the bow (the foremost part of the hull) in the water. Source:
                  <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note> shipp'd several Seas, and we thought once or
               twice our Anchor had come <ref target="home_" corresp="home">home</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="home" target="home_" type="gloss">Undone;
                  loose. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note>; upon which our Master order'd out
               the <ref target="sheetanchor_" corresp="sheetanchor">Sheet Anchor</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="sheetanchor" target="sheetanchor_" type="gloss">A very large, heavy spare anchor stored in the waist of the ship,
                  used in emergencies like the one described here. Source: Oxford English
                  Dictionary</note>; so that we rode with two Anchors a-Head, and the Cables vered
               out to the better End.</p>
            <p>By this Time it blew a terrible Storm indeed, and now I began to see Terror and
               Amazement in the Faces even of the Seamen themselves. The Master, tho' vigilant to
               the Business of preserving the Ship, yet as he went in and out of his Cabbin by me, I
               could hear him softly to himself say several times, <hi rend="italic">Lord be merciful to us, we
                  shall be all lost, we shall be all undone</hi>; and the like. During these first
                  <pb n="11"/> Hurries, I was <ref target="stupid_" corresp="stupid">stupid</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="stupid" target="stupid_" type="gloss">In a stupor. Source: Oxford English
                  Dictionary</note>, lying still in my Cabbin, which was in the <ref target="steerage_" corresp="steerage">Steerage</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="steerage" target="steerage_" type="gloss">The lower deck of a ship, just below the main deck and above the ballast; lower
                  classes of passengers often purchased chapter tickets to travel in this part of
                  the ship. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note>, and cannot describe my Temper:
               I could ill re-assume the first Penitence, which I had so apparently trampled upon,
               and harden'd my self against: I thought the Bitterness of Death had been past, and
               that this would be nothing too like the first. But when the
               Master himself came by me, as I said just now, and said we should be all lost, I was
               dreadfully frighted: I got up out of my Cabbin, and look'd out; but such a dismal
               Sight I never saw: The Sea went Mountains high, and broke upon us every three or four
               Minutes: When I could look about, I could see nothing but Distress round us: Two
               Ships that rid near us we found had cut their Masts by the Board, being deep loaden;
               and our Men cry'd out, that a Ship which rid about a Mile a-Head of us was foundered.
               Two more Ships being driven from their Anchors, were run out of the Roads to Sea <ref target="adventure_" corresp="adventure">at all Adventures</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="adventure" target="adventure_" type="gloss">At the mercy of all risks or dangers</note>, and that with not a Mast
               standing. The light Ships fared the best, as not so much labouring in the Sea; but two or three of them drove, and came close by us, running
               away with only their <ref target="spiritsail_" corresp="spiritsail">Sprit-sail</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="spiritsail" target="spiritsail_" type="gloss">A small, usually square-shaped sail at the front
                  of a sailing ship</note> out before the Wind.</p>
            <p>Towards Evening the Mate and <ref target="boatswain_" corresp="boatswain">Boat-Swain</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="boatswain" target="boatswain_" type="gloss">Pronounced "bosun," he was the supervisor of the
                  deck crew</note> begg'd the Master of our Ship to let them cut away the Foremast,
               which he was very unwilling to: But the Boat-Swain protesting to him, that if he did
               not, the Ship would founder, he consented; and when they had <ref target="foremast_" corresp="foremast">cut away the Foremast</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="foremast" target="foremast_" type="gloss">In adverse weather conditions, one may cut away the mast of a ship to prevent it
                  capsizing. Without the force of the heavy wind on the mast, the boat has a lower
                  probability of tipping over.</note>, the Main-Mast stood so loose, and shook the
               Ship so much, they were obliged to cut her away also, and make a clear Deck.</p>
            <p>Any one may judge what a Condition I must be in at all this, who was but a young
               Sailor, and who had been in such a Fright before at but a little. But if I can express at this Distance the <pb n="12"/> Thoughts I had about me at that time, I was in tenfold more Horror of Mind upon
               Account of my former Convictions, and the having returned from them to the
               Resolutions I had wickedly taken at first, than I was at Death it self; and these
               added to the Terror of the Storm, put me into such a Condition, that I can by no
               Words describe it. But the worst was not come yet, the Storm continued with such
               Fury, that the Seamen themselves acknowledged they had never known a worse. We had a
               good Ship, but she was deep loaden, and wallowed in the Sea, that the Seamen every
               now and then cried out, she would founder. It was my Advantage in one respect, that I
               did not know what they meant by Founder, till I enquir'd. However, the Storm was so
                  violent, that I saw what is not often seen, the Master,
               the Boat-Swain, and some others more sensible than the rest, at their Prayers, and
               expecting every Moment when the Ship would go to the Bottom.
               In the Middle of the Night, and under all the rest of of our Distresses, one of the
               Men that had been down on Purpose to see, cried out we had sprung a Leak; another
               said there was four Foot Water in the Hold. Then all Hands were called to the Pump.
               At that very Word my Heart, as I thought, died within me, and I fell backwards upon
               the Side of my Bed where I sat, into the Cabbin. However, the Men roused me, and told
               me, that I that was able to do nothing before, was as well able to pump as another;
               at which I stirr'd up, and went to the Pump and work'd very heartily. While this was
               doing, the Master seeing some light <ref target="collier_" corresp="collier">Colliers</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="collier" target="collier_" type="gloss">Coal barges</note>, who not able to ride out the
               Storm, were oblig'd to flip and run away to Sea, and would come near us, ordered to
               fire a Gun as a Signal of Distress. I who knew nothing what that meant, was so
                  surprised, that I thought the Ship had broke, or some <pb n="13"/> dreadful thing had happen'd. In a word, I was so
               surprised, that I fell down in a Swoon. As this was a time when every Body had his
               own Life to think of, no Body minded me, or what was become of me; but another Man
               stept up to the Pump, and thrusting me aside with his Foot, let me lye, thinking I had been dead; and it was a great while before I came
               to my self.</p>
            <p>We work'd on, but the Water encreasing in the Hold, it was apparent that the Ship
               would founder, and tho' the Storm began to abate a little, yet as it was not possible
               she could swim till we might run into a Port, so the Master continued firing Guns for
               Help; and a light Ship who had rid it out just a Head of us ventured a Boat out to
               help us. It was with the utmost Hazard the Boat came near us, but it was impossible
               for us to get on Board, or for the Boat to lie near the Ship Side, till at last the
               Men rowing very heartily, and venturing their Lives to save ours, our Men cast them a
               Rope over the Stern with a Buoy to it, and then vered it out a great Length, which
               they after great Labour and Hazard took hold of and we
               hall'd them close under our Stern and got all into their Boat. It was to no Purpose
               for them or us after we were in the Boat to think of reaching to their own Ship, so
               all agreed to let her drive and only to pull her in towards
               Shore as much as we could, and our Master promised them, That if the Boat was stav'd
               upon Shore <ref target="makegood_" corresp="makegood">he would make it good to their
                  Master</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="makegood" target="makegood_" type="gloss">That is, if the boat was crushed or damaged while
                  running aground, he would reimburse their master.</note>, so partly rowing and
               partly driving our Boat went away to the <ref target="norward_" corresp="norward">Norward</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="norward" target="norward_" type="gloss">Northward</note> sloaping towards the Shore almost as far as <ref target="winterton_" corresp="winterton">Winterton Ness.</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="winterton" target="winterton_" type="gloss">An area of foreland along the north Norfolk coast of England</note>
            </p>
            <p>We were not much more than a quarter of an Hour out of our Ship but we saw her sink,
               and then I understood for the first time what was meant by a Ship foundering in the
               Sea; I must acknowledge <pb n="14" facs="tcp:0653600100:18"/> I had hardly Eyes to look up when the Seamen told me she
               was sinking; for from that Moment they rather put me into
               the Boat than that I might be said to go in, my Heart was as it were dead within me,
               partly with Fright, partly with Horror of Mind and the Thoughts of what was yet
               before me.</p>
            <p>While we were in this Condition, the Men yet labouring at the Oar to bring the Boat
               near the Shore, we could see, when our Boat mounting the Waves, we were able to see
               the Shore, a great many People running along the Shore to assist us when we should
               come near, but we made but slow way towards the Shore, nor were we able to reach the
               Shore, till being past the Light-House at <hi rend="italic">Winterton,</hi> the Shore falls off to the Westward towards <hi rend="italic">Cromer,</hi> and so
               the Land broke off a little the Violence of the Wind: Here we got in, and tho' not
                  without much Difficulty got all safe on Shore and walk'd
               afterwards on Foot to <hi rend="italic">Yarmouth,</hi> where, as unfortunate Men, we were used with great Humanity as well by the Magistrates of the
               Town, who assign'd us good Quarters, as by particular Merchants and Owners of Ships,
               and had Money given us sufficient to carry us either to
                  <hi rend="italic">London</hi> or back to <hi rend="italic">Hull,</hi> as we thought fit.</p>
            <p>Had I now had the Sense to have gone back to <hi rend="italic">Hull,</hi> and have gone home, I had
               been happy, and my Father, an Emblem of our Blessed Saviour's Parable, had even <ref target="calf_" corresp="calf">kill'd the fatted Calf for me</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="calf" target="calf_" type="gloss">Another
                  allusion to the parable of the Prodigal Son, when the father kills the fatted calf
                  to feast and celebrate the return of his ruined son (Luke 15:23)</note>; for
               hearing the Ship I went away in was cast away in <hi rend="italic">Yarmouth</hi> Road, it was a
               great while before he had any Assurance that I was not drown'd.</p>
            <p>But my ill Fate push'd me on now with an Obstinacy that
               nothing could resist; and tho' I had several times loud
               Calls from my Reason and my more composed Judgment to go home, yet I had <pb n="15"/> no Power to do it. I know not what to call this, nor
               will I urge, that it is a secret over-ruling Decree that hurries us on to be the
               Instruments of our own Destruction, even tho' it be before us, and that we rush upon
               it with our Eyes open. Certainly nothing but some such
               decreed unavoidable Misery attending, and which it was impossible for me to escape,
               could have push'd me forward against the calm Reasonings and Perswasions of my most
                  retired Thoughts, and against two such visible Instructions as I had met with in my first Attempt.</p>
            <p>My Comrade, who had help'd to harden me before, and who was
               the Master's Son, was now less forward than I; the first time he spoke to me after we
               were at <hi rend="italic">Yarmouth,</hi> which was not till two or three Days, for we were
               separated in the Town to several Quarters; I say, the first time he saw me, it
               appear'd his Tone was alter'd, and looking very melancholy and shaking his Head,
               ask'd me how I did, and telling his Father who I was, and how I had come this Voyage
               only for a Trial in order to go farther abroad; his Father turning to me with a very
               grave and concern'd Tone, <hi rend="italic">Young Man,</hi> says he, <hi rend="italic">you ought never to go to
                  Sea any more, you ought to take this for a plain and visible Token that you are
                  not to be a Seafaring Man,</hi> why, Sir, said I, will you go to Sea no more?
                  <hi rend="italic">That is another Case,</hi> said he, <hi rend="italic">it is my Calling, and therefore my
                  Duty; but as you made this Voyage for a Trial, you see what a Taste Heaven has
                  given you of what you are to expect if you persist; perhaps this is all befallen
                  us on your Account, like</hi>
               <ref target="jonah_" corresp="jonah">Jonah</ref>
               <hi rend="italic">in the Ship of</hi> Tarshish <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="jonah" target="jonah_" type="gloss">The Biblical Jonah boarded a ship bound for Tarshish,
                  but was thrown overboard and swallowed by a whale when the crew discovered that he
                  was fleeing God's commandment, and held him responsible for the violent storms
                  encountered by their ship.</note>. <hi rend="italic">Pray,</hi> continues he, <hi rend="italic">what are you?
                  and on what Account did you go to Sea?</hi> Upon that I told him some of my Story;
               at the End of which he burst out with a strange kind of Passion, What had I done,
               says he, that such an unhappy Wretch should come into my Ship? I would not set my
               Foot in <pb n="16"/> the same Ship with thee again for a
               Thousand Pounds. This indeed was, as I said, an Excursion of his Spirits which were
               yet agitated by the Sense of his Loss, and was farther than he could have Authority
               to go. However he afterwards talk'd very gravely to me, exhorted me to go back to my
                  Father, and not tempt Providence to my Ruine; told me I
               might see a visible Hand of Heaven against me, <hi rend="italic">And young Man,</hi> said he,
                  <hi rend="italic">depend upon it, if you do not go back, where-ever you go, you will meet with
                     nothing but Disasters and Disappointments till your
                  Father's Words are fulfilled upon you.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>We parted soon after; for I made him little Answer, and I saw him no more; which way
               he went, I know not. As for me, having some Money in my
               Pocket, I travelled to <hi rend="italic">London</hi> by Land; and there, as well as on the Road,
               had many Struggles with my self, what Course of Life I
               should take, and whether I should go Home, or go to Sea.</p>
            <p>As to going Home, Shame opposed the best Motions that offered to my Thoughts; and it
                  immediately occurr'd to me how I should be laugh'd at
               among the Neighbours, and should be asham'd to see, not my Father and Mother only,
               but even every Body else; from whence I have since often observed, how incongruous
               and irrational the common Temper of Mankind is, especially
               of Youth, to that Reason which ought to guide them in such Cases, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> That
               they are not asham'd to sin, and yet are asham'd to repent; not asham'd of the Action for which they ought justly to be esteemed Fools, but are
               asham'd of the returning, which only can make them be esteem'd wise Men.</p>
            <p>In this State of Life however I remained some time, uncertain what Measures to take,
               and what Course of Life to lead. An irresistible Reluctance continu'd to going Home;
               and as I stay'd a while, <pb n="17"/> the Remembrance of the
               Distress I had been in wore off; and as that abated, the little Motion I had in my
               Desires to a Return wore off with it, till at last I quite lay'd aside the Thoughts
               of it, and lookt out for a Voyage.</p>  
            <head> <ref target="Audio2_" corresp="Audio2">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio2" target="Audio2_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_02_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            <p>That evil Influence which carryed me first away from my Father's House, that hurried
               me into the wild and indigested Notion of raising my Fortune; and that imprest those
               Conceits so forcibly upon me, as to make me deaf to all good Advice, and to the
               Entreaties and even Command of my Father: I say the same
               Influence, whatever it was, presented the most unfortunate of all Enterprises to my
               View; and I went on board a Vessel bound to the Coast of <hi rend="italic">Africa</hi>; or, as our
               Sailors vulgarly call it, a Voyage to <hi rend="italic">Guinea.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>It was my great Misfortune that in all these Adventures I did not ship my self as a
               Sailor; whereby, tho' I might indeed have workt a little harder than ordinary, yet at
               the same time I had learn'd the Duty and Office of a <ref target="mastman_" corresp="mastman">Fore-mast Man</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="mastman" target="mastman_" type="gloss">Common sailor</note>; and in time
               might have quallified my self for a Mate or Lieutenant, if not for a Master: But as
               it was always my Fate to choose for the worse, so I did here; for having Money in my
               Pocket, and good Cloaths upon my Back, I would always go on board in the Habit of a
               Gentleman; and so I neither had any Business in the Ship, or learn'd to do any.</p>
            <p>It was my Lot first of all to fall into pretty good Company in <hi rend="italic">London,</hi> which
               does not always happen to such loose and unguided young
               Fellows as I then was; the Devil generally not omitting to lay some Snare for them
               very early: But it was not so with me, I first fell acquainted with the Master of a
               Ship who had been on the Coast of <hi rend="italic">Guinea</hi>; and who having had very good
               Success there, was resolved <pb n="18"/> to go again; and who taking a Fancy to my Conversation,
               which was not at all disagreeable at that time, hearing me say I had a mind to see
               the Word, told me if I wou'd go the Voyage with him I should be at no Expence; I
               should be his <ref target="messmate_" corresp="messmate">Mess-mate</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="messmate" target="messmate_" type="gloss">Person with whom one regularly takes meals.</note> and his Companion, and if I
               could carry any thing with me, I should have all the Advantage of it that the Trade
               would admit; and perhaps I might meet with some Encouragement.</p>
            <p>I embrac'd the Offer, and entring into a strict Friendship with this Captain, who was
               an honest and plain-dealing Man, I went the Voyage with him, and carried a small <ref target="capital_" corresp="capital">Adventure</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="capital" target="capital_" type="gloss">Quantity of capital or valuables</note> with me, which by the disinterested
               Honesty of my Friend the Captain, I increased very
               considerably; for I carried about 40 <ref target="gbp_" corresp="gbp">l.</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="gbp" target="gbp_" type="gloss">40
                  pounds</note> in such Toys and Trifles as the Captain
               directed me to buy. This 40 <hi rend="italic">l.</hi> I had mustered
               together by the Assistance of some of my Relations whom I
               corresponded with, and who, I believe, got my Father, or at
               least my Mother, to contribute so much as that to my first Adventure.</p>
            <p>This was the only Voyage which I may say was successful in all my Adventures, and
               which I owe to the Integrity and Honesty of my Friend the Captain, under whom also I got a competent Knowledge of the
               Mathematicks and the Rules of Navigation, learn'd how to
               keep an Account of the Ship's Course, take an Observation; and in short, to
               understand some things that were needful to be understood by
               a Sailor: For, as he took Delight to introduce me, I took Delight to learn; and, in a
               word, this Voyage made me both a Sailor and a Merchant: for I brought Home
                  <hi rend="italic">L.</hi>
               <ref target="ounces_" corresp="ounces">5.9</ref>
               <hi rend="italic">Ounces</hi>
               <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="ounces" target="ounces_" type="gloss">Five pounds, nine ounces</note> of Gold Dust for my Adventure, which yielded me
               in <hi rend="italic">London</hi> at my Return, almost 300 <ref target="gbp2_" corresp="gbp2">l.</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="gbp2" target="gbp2_" type="gloss">300 British pounds, a very substantial sum at a time when a person
                  could live on a fraction of that for a year</note> and this fill'd me with those
               aspiring Thoughts which have since so compleated my Ruin.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="19"/>Yet even in this Voyage I had my Misfortunes
               too; particularly, that I was continually sick, being thrown
               into a violent <ref target="calenture_" corresp="calenture">Calenture</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="calenture" target="calenture_" type="gloss">Feverish delirium</note> by the excessive Heat of the Climate; our
               principal Trading being upon the Coast, from the Latitude of 15 Degrees, North even
               to the <ref target="equator_" corresp="equator">Line</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="equator" target="equator_" type="gloss">The Equator</note> it self.</p>
            <p>I was now set up for a <ref target="guiney_" corresp="guiney">Guiney</ref> Trader
                  <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="guiney" target="guiney_" type="gloss">A merchant in the goods that Europeans sought from Africa: gold,
                  ivory, and ultimately, slaves.</note>; and my Friend, to my great Misfortune,
               dying soon after his Arrival, I resolved to go the same Voyage again, and I embark'd
               in the same Vessel with one who was his Mate in the former Voyage, and had now got
               the Command of the Ship. This was the unhappiest Voyage that
               ever Man made; for tho' I did not carry quite 100 <hi rend="italic">l.</hi> of my new gain'd
               Wealth, so that I had 200 left, and which I lodg'd with my Friend's Widow, who was
               very just to me, yet I fell into terrible Misfortunes in this Voyage; and the first
               was this, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> Our Ship making her Course towards the <hi rend="italic">Canary</hi>
               Islands, or rather between those Islands, and the <hi rend="italic">African</hi> Shore, was
               surprised in the Grey of the Morning, by a <hi rend="italic">Turkish</hi> Rover of <ref target="sallee_" corresp="sallee">Sallee,</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="sallee" target="sallee_" type="gloss">A
                  city in northwest Morocco</note> who gave Chase to us with all the Sail she could
               make. We crowded also as much Canvass as our Yards would spread, or our Masts carry,
               to have got clear; but finding the Pirate gain'd upon us, and would certainly come up
               with us in a few Hours, we prepar'd to fight; our Ship having 12 Guns, and the Rogue
               18. About three in the Afternoon he came up with us, and
               bringing to by Mistake, just athwart our Quarter, instead of athwart our Stern, as he
               intended, we brought 8 of our Guns to bear on that Side, and <ref target="cannons_" corresp="cannons">pour'd in a Broadside</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="cannons" target="cannons_" type="gloss">That is, they fired all the
                  cannons on one side of the ship</note> upon him, which made him sheer off again,
               after returning our Fire, and pouring in also his small Shot from near 200 Men which
               he had on Board. However, we had not a Man touch'd, all our Men keeping close. He
               prepar'd to attack us <pb n="20"/> again, and we to defend
               our selves; but laying us on Board the next time upon our other Quarter, he entred 60
               Men upon our Decks, who immediatel fell to cutting and
               hacking the Decks and Rigging. We ply'd them with Small-shot, Half-Pikes,
               Powder-Chests, and such like, and clea'rd our Deck of them twice. However, to cut
               short this melancholly Part of our Story, our Ship being disabled, and three of our
               Men kill'd, and eight wounded, we were obliged to yield, and were carry'd all Prisoners into <ref target="sallee2_" corresp="sallee2">Sallee,</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="sallee2" target="sallee2_" type="gloss">A city in northwest Morocco</note>
               a Port belonging to the <hi rend="italic">Moors.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>The <ref target="usage_" corresp="usage">Usage I had</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="usage" target="usage_" type="gloss">Treatment I received</note> there was not so dreadful as at first I apprehended,
               nor was I carried up the Country to the Emperor's Court, as
               the rest of our Men were, but was kept by the Captain of the Rover, as his proper
               Prize, and made his Slave, being young and nimble, and fit for his Business. At this
               surprising Change of my Circumstances from a Merchant to a
               miserable Slave, I was perfectly overwhelmed; and now I
               look'd back upon my Father's prophetick Discourse to me, that I should be miserable, and have none to relieve me, which I thought was now
               so effectually brought to pass, that it could not be worse; that now the Hand of
               Heaven had overtaken me, and I was undone without Redemption. But alas! this was but a Taste of the Misery I was
               to go thro', as will appear in the Sequel of this Story.</p>
            <p>As my new Patron or Master had taken me Home to his House, so I was in hopes that he
               would take me with him when he went to Sea again, believing
               that it would some time or other be his Fate to be taken by a <hi rend="italic">Spanish</hi> or
                  <hi rend="italic">Portugal</hi> Man of War; and that then I should be set at Liberty. But this
               Hope of mine was soon taken away; for when he went to Sea, he left me on Shoar to
               look after his <pb n="21"/> little Garden, and do the common
               Drudgery of Slaves about his House; and when he came home again from his Cruise, he
               order'd me to lye in the Cabbin to look after the Ship.</p>
            <p>Here I meditated nothing but my Escape; and what Method I might take to effect it,
               but found no Way that had the least Probability in it: Nothing presented to make the Supposition of it rational;
               for I had no Body to communicate it to, that would embark with me; no Fellow-Slave,
               no <hi rend="italic">Englishman, Irishman,</hi> or <hi rend="italic">Scotsman</hi> there
               but my self; so that for two Years, tho' I often pleased my self with the
               Imagination, yet I never had the least encouraging Prospect
               of putting it in Practice.</p>
            <p>After about two Years an odd Circumstance presented it self,
               which put the old Thought of making some Attempt for my
               Liberty, again in my Head: My Patron lying at Home longer than usual, without fitting out his Ship, which, as I heard, was for
               want of Money; he used constantly, once or twice a Week, sometimes oftner, if the
               Weather was fair, to take the Ship's <ref target="pinnace_" corresp="pinnace">Pinnace</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="pinnace" target="pinnace_" type="gloss">A light rowboat carried aboard large merchant and
                  war vessels.</note>, and go out into the Road a-fishing; and as he always took me
               and a young <hi rend="italic">Maresco</hi> with him to row the Boat, we made him very merry, and I
               prov'd very dexterous in catching Fish; insomuch that sometimes he would send me with
               a <hi rend="italic">Moor,</hi> one of his Kinsmen, and the Youth the <ref target="maresco_" corresp="maresco">Maresco,</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="maresco" target="maresco_" type="gloss">Moor, a term generally used in this period to refer to people from northern
                  Africa.</note> as they call'd him, to catch a Dish of Fish for him.</p>
            <p>It happen'd one time, that going a fishing in a stark calm Morning, a Fog rose so
               thick, that tho' we were not half a League from the Shoar we lost Sight of it; and
               rowing we knew not whither or which way, we labour'd all Day and all the next Night,
               and when the Morning came we found we had pull'd off to Sea instead of pulling in for
               the Shoar; and that we were at least two Leagues from <pb n="22"/> the Shoar: However we got well in again, tho' with a
               great deal of Labour, and some Danger; for the Wind began to blow pretty fresh in the
                  Morning; but particularly we were all very hungry.</p>
            <p>But our Patron warn'd by this Disaster, resolved to take more Care of himself for the
               future; and having lying by him the Long-boat of our <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Ship we had
               taken, he resolved he would not go a fishing any more without a Compass and some
               Provision; so he ordered the Carpenter of his Ship, who also was an <hi rend="italic">English</hi>
               Slave, to build a little State-room or Cabin in the middle of the Long Boat, like
               that of a Barge, with a Place to stand behind it to steer and hale home the
               Main-sheet; and Room before for a hand or two to stand and work the Sails; she sail'd
               with that we call a Shoulder of Mutton Sail; and the Boom
                  <ref target="gib_" corresp="gib">gib'd</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="gib" target="gib_" type="gloss">Shifted from one side of the vessel to the
                  other when running before the wind.</note> over the Top of the Cabbin, which lay
               very snug and low, and had in it Room for him to lye, with a Slave or two, and a
               Table to eat on, with some small Lockers to put in some Bottles of such Liquor as he
               thought fit to drink in; particularly his Bread, Rice and Coffee.</p>
            <p>We went frequently out with this Boat a fishing, and as I was most dextrous to catch
               fish for him, he never went without me: It happen'd that he had appointed to go out
               in this Boat, either for Pleasure or for Fish, with two or three <hi rend="italic">Moors</hi> of
               some Distinction in that Place, and for whom he had provided extraordinarily; and had
               therefore sent on board the Boat over Night, a larger Store of Provisions than
               ordinary; and had order'd me to get ready three Fuzees with Powder and Shot, which
               were on board his Ship; for that they design'd some Sport of
               Fowling as well as Fishing.</p>
            <p>I got all things ready as he had directed, and waited the next Morning with the Boat,
               washed <pb n="23"/> clean, her <ref target="ancient_" corresp="ancient">Antient and Pendants</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="ancient" target="ancient_" type="gloss">An ancient or ensign is the
                  national flag a ship flies at sea; pennants would be other flags on the rigging
                  that would communicate facts about the ship, such as its master and status, to
                  other ships.</note> out, and every thing to accomodate his Guests; when by and by
               my Patroon came on board alone, and told me his Guests had put off going, upon some
               Business that fell out, and order'd me with the Man and Boy, as usual, to go out with
               the Boat and catch them some Fish, for that his Friends were to sup at his House; and
               commanded that as soon as I had got some Fish I should bring it home to his House;
               all which I prepar'd to do.</p>
            <p>This Moment my former Notions of Deliverance darted into my
               Thoughts, for now I found I was like to have a little Ship at my Command; and my
               Master being gone, I prepar'd to furnish my self, not for a fishing Business but for
               a Voyage; tho' I knew not, neither did I so much as consider whither I should steer;
               for any where to get out of that Place was my Way.</p>
            <p>My first Contrivance was to make a Pretence to speak to this <hi rend="italic">Moor,</hi> to get
               something for our Subsistance on board; for I told him we must not presume to eat of
               our Patroon's Bread, he said that was true; so he brought a large Basket of Rusk or
               Bisket of their kind, and three Jarrs with fresh Water into the Boat; I knew where my
               Patroon's Case of Bottles stood, which it was evident by the make were taken out of
               some <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Prize; and I convey'd them into the Boat while the
                  <hi rend="italic">Moor</hi> was on Shoar, as if they had been there before, for our Master: I
               convey'd also a great Lump of Bees-Wax into the Boat, which weighed above <ref target="hundredweight_" corresp="hundredweight">half a Hundred Weight</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="hundredweight" target="hundredweight_" type="gloss">More than 56 lb (a full hundredweight is 112 lb)</note>, with a
               Parcel of Twine or Thread, a Hatchet, a Saw and a Hammer, all which were of great Use
               to us afterwards; especially the Wax to make Candles. Another Trick I try'd upon him,
               which he innocently came into also; his Name was <hi rend="italic">Ismael,</hi> who they call
                  <hi rend="italic">Muly</hi>
               <pb n="24"/> or <hi rend="italic">Moely,</hi> so I call'd to him,
                  <hi rend="italic">Moely</hi> said I, our Patroon's Guns are on board
               the Boat, can you not get a little Powder and Shot, it may be we may kill some
                  <hi rend="italic">Alcamies</hi> (a Fowl like our <ref target="curlew_" corresp="curlew">Curlieus</ref>) <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="curlew" target="curlew_" type="gloss">Or curlew; a wading bird of mottled brown color with
                  a long, slender beak.</note> for our selves, for I know he keeps the Gunner's
               Stores in the Ship? Yes, <hi rend="italic">says he,</hi> I'll bring some, and accordingly he
               brought a great Leather Pouch which held about a Pound and half of Powder, or rather
               more; and another with Shot, that had five or six Pound, with some Bullets; and put
               all into the Boat: At the same time I had found some Powder of my Masters in the
               Great Cabbin, with which I fill'd one of the large Bottles in the Case, which was
               almost empty; pouring what was in it into another: and thus furnished with every
               thing needful, we sail'd out of the Port to fish: The Castle which is at the Entrance
               of the Port knew who we were, and took no Notice of us; and we were not above a Mile
               out of the Port before we hal'd in our Sail, and set us down to fish: The Wind blew
               from the N. NE. which was contrary to my Desire; for had it blown southerly I had
               been sure to have made the Coast of <hi rend="italic">Spain,</hi> and at least reacht to the Bay of
                  <ref target="cadiz_" corresp="cadiz">Cadiz</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="cadiz" target="cadiz_" type="gloss">A
                  coastal city in southwest Spain</note>; but my Resolutions were, blow which way it
               would, I would be gone from that horrid Place where I was, and leave the rest to
               Fate.</p>
            <p>After we had fisht some time and catcht nothing, for when I had Fish on my Hook, I
               would not pull them up, that he might not see them; I said to the <hi rend="italic">Moor,</hi> this
               will not do, our Master will not be thus serv'd, we must stand farther off: He
                  thinking no harm agreed, and being in the head of the
               Boat set the Sails; and as I had the Helm I run the Boat out near a League farther,
               and then brought her too as if I would fish; when giving the Boy the Helm, I stept
               forward to where the <hi rend="italic">Moor</hi> was, and making as if I stoopt for something <pb n="25"/> hehind him, I
               took him by Surprize with my Arm under his <ref target="twist_" corresp="twist">Twist</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="twist" target="twist_" type="gloss">Crotch</note>, and tost him clear over-board
               into the Sea; he rise immediately, for he swam like a Cork, and call'd to me, begg'd
               to be taken in, told me he would go all over the World with me; he swam so strong
               after the Boat that he would have reacht me very quickly, there being but little
               Wind; upon which I stept into the Cabbin and fetching one of the <ref target="fowling_" corresp="fowling">Fowling-pieces</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="fowling" target="fowling_" type="gloss">Guns, usually used to shoot birds</note>, I <ref target="presented_" corresp="presented">presented it</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="presented" target="presented_" type="gloss">Aimed</note> at him, and told
               him, I had done him no hurt, and if he would be quiet I would do him none; but said
               I, you swim well enough to reach to the Shoar, and the Sea is calm, make the best of
               your Way to Shoar and I will do you no harm, but if you come near the Boat I'll shoot
               you thro' the Head; for I am resolved to have my Liberty; so he turn'd himself about
               and swam for the Shoar, and I make no doubt but he reacht it with Ease, for he was an
               Excellent Swimmer.</p>
            <p>I could ha' been content to ha' taken this <hi rend="italic">Moor</hi> with me, and ha' drown'd the
               Boy, but there was no venturing to trust him: When he was gone I turn'd to the Boy,
               who they call'd <hi rend="italic">Xury,</hi> and said to him, <hi rend="italic">Xury,</hi> if you will be
               faithful to me I'll make you a great Man, but if you will not stroak your Face to be
               true to me, <hi rend="italic">that is, swear by</hi> Mahomet <hi rend="italic">and his Father's Beard,</hi> I
               must throw you into the Sea too; the Boy smil'd in my Face and spoke so innocently that I could not mistrust him; and swore to be
               faithful to me, and go all over the World with me.</p>
            <p>While I was in View of the <hi rend="italic">Moor</hi> that was swimming, I stood out directly to
               Sea with the Boat, rather stretching to Windward, that they might think me gone
               towards the <hi rend="italic">Straits</hi>-mouth (as indeed any one that had been in their Wits
               must ha' been supposed to do) for who would ha' suppos'd we
               were saild <pb n="26"/> on to the southward to the truly
                  <ref target="barbarian_" corresp="barbarian">Barbarian</ref> Coast<note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="barbarian" target="barbarian_" type="gloss">The North African coast, between Tripoli and Morocco.</note>, where
               whole Nations of Negroes were sure to surround us with their Canoes, and destroy us;
               where we could ne'er once go on shoar but we should be devour'd by savage Beasts, or
               more merciless Savages of humane kind.</p>
            <p>But as soon as it grew dusk in the Evening, I chang'd my Course, and steer'd directly
               South and by East, bending my Course a little toward the East, that I might keep in
               with the Shoar; and having a fair fresh Gale of Wind, and a smooth quiet Sea, I made
               such Sail that I believe by the next Day at Three a Clock in the Afternoon, when I
               first made the Land, I could not be less than 150 Miles South of <hi rend="italic">Sallee</hi>;
               quite beyond the Emperor of <hi rend="italic">Morocco</hi>'s Dominions, or
               indeed of any other King thereabouts, for we saw no
               People.</p>
            <p>Yet such was the Fright I had taken at the <hi rend="italic">Moors,</hi> and the dreadful
               Apprehensions I had of falling into their Hands, that I would not stop, or go on
               Shoar, or come to an Anchor; the Wind continuing fair, 'till I had sail'd in that
               manner five Days: And then the Wind shifting to the southward, I concluded also that if any of our Vessels were in Chase of me, they also
               would now <ref target="giveover_" corresp="giveover">give over</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="giveover" target="giveover_" type="gloss">If any of his Master's men had tried to follow him, he was by now so far away
                  that they would have given up.</note>; so I ventur'd to make to the Coast, and
               came to an Anchor in the Mouth of a little River, I knew not what, or where; neither
               what Latitude, what Country, what Nations, or what River: I neither saw, or desir'd
               to see any People, the principal thing I wanted was fresh Water: We came into this
               Creek in the Evening, resolving to swim on shoar as soon as it was dark, and discover
               the Country; but as soon as it was quite dark, we heard such dreadful Noises of the
               Barking, Roaring, and Howling of Wild Creatures, of we knew not what Kinds, that the
               poor Boy was ready to die with <pb n="27"/> Fear, and beg'd
               of me not to go on shoar till Day; well <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi> said I, then I won't, but it
               may be we may see Men by Day, who will be as bad to us as those Lyons; <hi rend="italic">then we
                  give them the shoot Gun</hi> says <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi> laughing, <hi rend="italic">make them run
                  wey</hi>; such <hi rend="italic">English Xury</hi> spoke by conversing among us Slaves, however I was glad to see the Boy so cheerful, and I gave him a
                  <ref target="dram_" corresp="dram">Dram</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="dram" target="dram_" type="gloss">a small amount from a bottle, a swig or
                  a sip</note> (out of our Patroon's Case of Bottles) to
               chear him up: After all, <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi>'s Advice was good, and I took it, we dropt our
               little Anchor and lay still all Night; I say still, for we
               slept none! for in two or three Hours we saw vast great Creatures (we knew not what
               to call them) of many sorts, come down to the Sea-shoar and run into the Water,
               wallowing and washing themselves for the Pleasure of cooling themselves; and they
               made such hideous Howlings and Yellings, that I never indeed heard the like.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi> was dreadfully frighted, and indeed so was I too; but we were both more
               frighted when we heard one of these mighty Creatures come swimming towards our Boat, we could not see him, but we might hear him by his blowing
               to be a monstrous, huge and furious Beast; <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi>
               said it was a Lyon, and it might be so for ought I know; but poor <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi> cryed
               to me to weigh the Anchor and row away; no says I, <hi rend="italic">Xury,</hi> we can slip our
               Cable with the Buoy to it and go off to Sea, they cannot
               follow us far; I had no sooner said so, but I perceiv'd the Creature (whatever it
               was) within Two Oars Length, which something surprized me; however I immediately
               stept to the Cabbin-door, and taking up my Gun fir'd at him, upon which he
               immediately turn'd about and swam towards the Shoar
               again.</p>
            <p>But it is impossible to describe the horrible Noises, and
               hideous Cryes and Howlings, that were <pb n="28"/> raised as
               well upon the Edge of the Shoar, as higher within the
               Country; upon the Noise or Report of the Gun, a Thing I have
               some Reason to believe those Creatures had never heard before: This Convinc'd me that
               there was no going on Shoar for us in the Night upon that Coast, and how to venture
               on Shoar in the Day was another Question too; for to have
               fallen into the Hands of any of the Savages, had been as bad as to have fallen into
               the Hands of Lyons and Tygers; at least we were equally apprehensive of the Danger of
               it.</p>
            <p>Be that as it would, we were oblig'd to go on Shoar somewhere or other for Water, for
               we had not a Pint left in the Boat; when or where to get to it was the Point:
                  <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi> said, if I would let him go on Shoar with one of the Jarrs, he would
               find if there was any Water and bring some to me. I ask'd him why he would go? Why I
               should not go and he stay in the Boat? The Boy answer'd with so much Affection that
               made me love him ever after. Says he, <hi rend="italic">If wild Mans come, they eat me, you go
                  wey.</hi> Well, <hi rend="italic">Xury,</hi> said I, we will both go, and if the wild Man's come
               we will kill them, they shall Eat neither of us; so I gave <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi> a piece of
               Rusk-bread to Eat and a Dram out of our Patroons Case of
               Bottles which I mentioned before; and we hal'd the Boat in as near the Shoar as we
               thought was proper, and so waded on Shoar, carrying nothing
               but our Arms and two Jarrs for Water.</p>
            <p>I did not care to go out of Sight of the Boat, fearing the coming of Canoes with
                  <hi rend="italic">Savages</hi> down the River; but the Boy seeing a low Place about a Mile up
               the Country rambled to it; and by and by I saw him come running towards me, I thought
               he was pursued by some Savage, or <pb n="29"/> frighted with
               some wild Beast, and I run forward towards him to help him, but when I came nearer to him, I saw something hanging over his Shoulders which
               was a Creature that he had shot, like a Hare but different in Colour, and longer
               Legs, however we were very glad of it, and it was very good Meat; but the great Joy
               that poor <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi> came with, was to tell me he had found good Water and seen no
               wild Mans.</p>
            <p>But we found afterwards that we need not take such Pains for Water, for a little
               higher up the Creek where we were, we found the Water fresh when the Tide was out,
               which flowed but a little way up; so we filled our Jarrs and feasted on the Hare we
               had killed, and prepared to go on our Way, having seen no Foot-steps of any humane
               Creature in that part of the Country.</p>
            <p>As I had been one Voyage to this Coast before, I knew very well that the Islands of
               the <ref target="canaries_" corresp="canaries">Canaries,</ref> and the <hi rend="italic">Cape de
                  Verd</hi> Islands also, lay not far off from the Coast <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="canaries" target="canaries_" type="gloss">There is a geographical inconsistency here. Crusoe and Xury are somewhere along
                  the southwest Moroccan coast if the Canary Islands are close by. Therefore, they
                  are to the southwest of their starting point at Salé, which is in northwest Morocco. However, Crusoe claims to have sailed south
                  and east of Salé - this is, in fact, impossible, since traveling southeast of Salé
                  would entail going inland.</note>. But as I had no Instruments to take an
               Observation to know what Latitude we were in, and did not exactly know, or at least
                  remember what Latitude they were in; I knew not where to
               look for them, or when to stand off to Sea towards them; otherwise I might now easily
               have found some of these Islands. But my hope was, that if I stood along this Coast
               till I came to that Part where the <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Traded, I should find some of
               their Vessels upon their usual Design of Trade, that would relieve and take us
               in.</p>
            <p>By the best of my Calculation, that Place were I now was, must be that Country, which
               lying between the Emperor of <placeName type="tgn" key="1000179">
                                <hi rend="italic">Morocco</hi>
                            </placeName>'s Dominions
               and the <hi rend="italic">Negro</hi>'s, lies wast and uninhabited, except by wild Beasts; the
                  <hi rend="italic">Negroes</hi> having abandon'd it and gone farther South for fear of the
                  <hi rend="italic">Moors</hi>; and the <hi rend="italic">Moors</hi>
               <pb n="30"/> not thinking it worth inhabiting, by reason of
               its Barrenness; and indeed both forsaking it because of the prodigious Numbers of
               Tygers, Lyons, Leopards and other furious Creatures which harbour there; so that the <hi rend="italic">Moors</hi> use it for their Hunting only, where they go like an Army, two or three thousand Men at a time; and
               indeed for near an hundred Miles together upon this Coast, we saw nothing but a wast
               uninhabited Country, by Day; and heard nothing but Howlings and Roaring of wild
               Beasts, by Night.</p>
            <p>Once or twice in the Day time, I thought I saw the <hi rend="italic">Pico</hi> of
                  <hi rend="italic">Teneriffe,</hi> being the high top of the Mountain <hi rend="italic">Teneriffe</hi> in the
                  <hi rend="italic">Canaries</hi>; and had a great mind to venture out in hopes of reaching
               thither; but having tried twice I was forced in again by contrary Winds, the Sea also
               going too high for my little Vessel, so I resolved to pursue my first Design and keep
               along the Shoar.</p>
            <p>Several times I was obliged to land for fresh Water, after we had left this Place;
               and once in particular, being early in the Morning, we came to an Anchor under a
               little Point of Land which was pretty high, and the Tide beginning to flow, we lay
               still to go farther in; <hi rend="italic">Xury,</hi> whose Eyes were more about him than it seems
               mine were, calls softly to me, and tells me that we had best go farther off the
               Shoar; for, says he, look yonder lies a dreadful Monster on the side of that Hillock
               fast asleep: I look'd where he pointed, and saw a dreadful Monster indeed, for it was
               a terrible great Lyon that lay on the Side of the Shoar, under the Shade of a Piece
               of the Hill that hung as it were a little over him. <hi rend="italic">Xury,</hi> says I, you shall
               go on Shoar and kill him; <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi> look'd frighted, and said, <hi rend="italic">Me kill! he
                  eat me at one Mouth</hi>; one Mouthful he meant; however, I said no more to the
               Boy, but <pb n="31"/> bad him lye still, and I took our
               biggest Gun, which was almost <ref target="bore_" corresp="bore">Musquet-bore</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="bore" target="bore_" type="gloss">"Bore" refers to the interior of the barrel of a gun,
                  and the diameter of the bore determines the calibre. Crusoe's gun, then, is musket
                  calibre.</note>, and loaded it with a good Charge of Powder, and with two <ref target="slug_" corresp="slug">Slugs</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="slug" target="slug_" type="gloss">Bullets</note>, and laid it down; then I
               loaded another Gun with two Bullets, and the third, for we had three Pieces, I loaded
               with five smaller Bullets. I took the best aim I could with the first Piece to have
               shot him into the Head, but he lay so with his Leg rais'd a little above his Nose,
               at first, but finding his Leg broke fell down again, and then got up upon three Legs
               and gave the most hideous Roar that ever I heard; I was a little suppriz'd that I had
               not hit him on the Head; however I took up the second Piece immediately, and tho' he
               began to move off fir'd again, and shot him into the Head, and had the Pleasure to
               see him drop, and make but little Noise, but lay struggling for Life. Then
                  <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi> took Heart, and would have me let him go on Shoar: Well, go said I,
               so the Boy jump'd into the Water, and taking a little Gun in
               one Hand swam to Shoar with the other Hand, and coming close to the Creature, put the
               Muzzle of the Piece to his Ear, and shot him into the Head again which dispatch'd him quite.</p>
            <p>This was Game indeed to us, but this was no Food, and I was very sorry to lose three
               Charges of Powder and Shot upon a Creature that was good for nothing to us. However
                  <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi> said he would have some of him; so he comes on board, and ask'd me
               to give him the Hatchet; for what, <hi rend="italic">Xury,</hi> said I? <hi rend="italic">Me cut off his
                  Head,</hi> said he. However <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi> could not cut
               off his Head, but he cut off a Foot and brought it with him, and it was a monstrous
               great one.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="32"/>I bethought my self however, that perhaps the
               Skin of him might one way or other be of some Value to us; and I resolved to take off
               his Skin if I could. So <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi> and I went to work with him; but <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi>
               was much the better Workman at it, for I knew very ill how to do it. Indeed it took
               us up both the whole Day, but at last we got of the Hide of him, and spreading it on
               the top of our Cabbin, the Sun effectually dried it in two Days time, and it
               afterwards serv'd me to lye upon.</p>
            
            <head> <ref target="Audio3_" corresp="Audio3">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio3" target="Audio3_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_03_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            <p>After this Stop we made on to the Southward continually for ten or twelve Days,
               living very sparing on our Provisions, which began to abate very much, and going no
               oftner into the Shoar than we were oblig'd to for fresh Water; my Design in this was to make the River <hi rend="italic">Gambia</hi> or
                     <hi rend="italic">Sennegall,</hi> that is to say, any where about
               the <ref target="caboverde_" corresp="caboverde">Cape de Verd,</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="caboverde" target="caboverde_" type="gloss">The area south of Morocco, near modern Senegal, was an epicenter for
                  British trade in salt and slaves.</note> where I was in hopes to meet with some
                     <hi rend="italic">European</hi> Ship, and if I did not, I knew not
               what Course I had to take, but to seek out for the <hi rend="italic">Islands,</hi> or perish there among the <hi rend="italic">Negroes.</hi> I knew that all the
               Ships from <hi rend="italic">Europe,</hi> which sail'd either to the Coast of <hi rend="italic">Guiney,</hi> or
               to <hi rend="italic">Brasil,</hi> or to the <ref target="indies_" corresp="indies">East-Indies,</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="indies" target="indies_" type="gloss">European merchant vessels would have carried salt,
                  gold, and slaves away from Africa, and sugar and spices back from Brazil and the
                  Indies respectively.</note> made this <hi rend="italic">Cape</hi> or those <hi rend="italic">Islands</hi>; and
               in a word, I put the whole of my Fortune upon this single Point, either that I must
               meet with some Ship, or must perish.</p>
            <p>When I had pursued this Resolution about ten Days longer, as I have said, I began to
               see that the Land was inhabited, and in two or three Places as we sailed by, we saw
               People stand upon the Shoar to look at us, we could also perceive they were quite
               Black and Stark-naked. I was once inclin'd to ha' gone on Shoar to them; but
                  <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi> was my better Councellor, and said to me, <hi rend="italic">no go, no go</hi>;
               however I hal'd in nearer the Shoar that I might talk to them, and I found they run
               along the Shoar by me a good way; I observ'd they had <pb n="33"/> no Weapons in their Hands, except one who had a long
               slender Stick, which <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi> said was a Lance, and that they would throw them a
               great way with good aim; so I kept at a distance, but talk'd with them by Signs as
               well as I could; and particularly made Signs for some thing to Eat, they beckon'd to
               me to stop my Boat, and that they would fetch me some Meat; upon this I lower'd the
               top of my Sail, and lay by, and two of them run up into the Country, and in less than
               half an Hour came back and brought with them two Pieces of dry Flesh and some Corn,
               such as is the Produce of their Country, but we neither knew what the one or the
               other was; however we were willing to accept it, but how to come at it was our next
               Dispute, for I was not for venturing on Shore to them, and they were as much affraid
               of us; but they took a safe way for us all, for they brought it to the Shore and laid
               it down, and went and stood a great way off till we fetch'd it on Board, and then
               came close to us again.</p>
            <p>We made Signs of Thanks to them, for we had nothing to make them amends; but an
                  Opportunity offer'd that very Instant to oblige them
                  wonderfully, for while we were lying by the Shore, came
               two mighty Creatures one pursuing the other, (as we took it) with great Fury, from
               the Mountains towards the Sea; whether it was the Male pursuing the Female, or
               whether they were in Sport or in Rage, we could not tell, any more than we could tell
                  whether it was usual or strange, but I believe it was the
               latter; because in the first Place, those ravenous Creatures seldom appear but in the
               Night; and in the second Place, we found the People terribly frighted, especially the
               Women. The Man that had the Lance or Dart did not fly from them, but the rest did;
               however as the two Creatures <pb n="34"/> ran directly into
               the Water, they did not seem to offer to fall upon any of
               the <hi rend="italic">Negroes,</hi> but plung'd themselves into the Sea and swam about as if they
               had come for their Diversion; at last one of them began to come nearer our Boat than
               at first I expected, but I lay ready for him, for I had loaded my Gun with all
               possible Expedition, and bad <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi> load both the other; as soon as he came
               fairly within my reach, I fir'd, and shot him directly into
               the Head; immediately he sunk down into the Water, but rose instantly and plung'd up
               and down as if he was struggling for Life; and so indeed he was, he immediately made
               to the Shore, but between the Wound which was his mortal Hurt, and the strangling of
               the Water, he dyed just before he reach'd the Shore.</p>
            <p>It is impossible to express the Astonishment of these poor Creatures at the Noise and
               the Fire of my Gun; some of them were even ready to dye for Fear, and fell down as
               Dead with the very Terror. But when they saw the Creature dead and sunk in the Water,
               and that I made Signs to them to come to the Shore; they took Heart and came to the
               Shore and began to search for the Creature, I found him by his Blood staining the
               Water, and by the help of a Rope which I slung round him and gave the
                  <hi rend="italic">Negroes</hi> to hawl, they drag'd him on Shore, and found that it was a most
               curious Leopard, spotted and fine to an admirable Degree,
               and the <hi rend="italic">Negroes</hi> held up their Hands with Admiration to think what it was I
               had kill'd him with.</p>
            <p>The other Creature frighted with the flash of Fire and the Noise of the Gun swam on
               Shore, and ran up directly to the Mountains from whence they came, nor could I at
               that Distance know what it was. I found quickly the <hi rend="italic">Negroes</hi> were for eating
               the Flesh of this Creature, so I was willing <pb n="35"/> to have them take it as a Favour from me, which when I
               made Signs to them that they might take him, they were very thankful for, immediately they fell to work with him, and tho' they had no Knife,
               yet with a sharpen'd Piece of Wood they took off his Skin as readily, and much more
               readily than we cou'd have done with a Knife; they offer'd me some of the Flesh,
               which I declined, making as if I would give it them, but made Signs for the Skin,
               which they gave me very freely, and brought me a great deal more of their Provision,
               which tho' I did not understand, yet I accepted; then I made Signs to them for some
               Water, and held out one of my Jarrs to them, turning it bottom upward, to shew that it was empty, and that I wanted to have
               it filled. They call'd immediately to some of their Friends, and there came two Women and brought a great Vessel made of Earth, and burnt as I
               suppose in the Sun; this they set down for me, as before, and I sent <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi> on
               Shore with my Jarrs, and filled them all three: The Women
               were as stark Naked as the Men.</p>
            <p>I was now furnished with Roots and Corn, such as it was, and Water, and leaving my
               friendly <hi rend="italic">Negroes,</hi> I made forward for about eleven
               Days more without offering to go near the Shoar, till I saw the Land run out a great
               Length into the Sea, at about the Distance of four or five
               Leagues before me, and the Sea being very calm I kept a large, offing to make this
               Point; at length, doubling the Point at about two Leagues from the Land, I saw
               plainly Land on the other Side to Seaward; then I concluded, as it was most certain
               indeed, that this was the <hi rend="italic">Cape de Verd,</hi> and those the <hi rend="italic">Islands,</hi> call'd from thence <hi rend="italic">Cape de Verd
                  Islands.</hi> However they were at a great Distance, and I could not well tell
               what I had best to do, for if I <pb n="36"/> should be taken
               with a Fresh of Wind I might neither reach one or other.</p>
            <p>In this Dilemna, as I was very pensive, I stept into the Cabbin and sat me down,
                  <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi> having the Helm, when on a suddain the Boy cry'd out, <hi rend="italic">Master,
                  Master, a Ship with a Sail,</hi> and the foolish Boy was frighted out of his Wits,
               thinking it must needs be some of his Master's Ships sent to pursue us, when, I knew
               we were gotten far enough out of their reach. I jump'd out of the Cabbin, and
               immediately saw not only the Ship, but what she was, (<hi rend="italic">viz.</hi>) that it was a
                  <hi rend="italic">Portuguese</hi> Ship, and as I thought was bound to the Coast of
                  <hi rend="italic">Guinea</hi> for <hi rend="italic">Negroes.</hi> But when I observ'd the Course she steer'd,
               I was soon convinc'd they were bound some other way, and did not design to come any
               nearer to the Shoar; upon which I stretch'd out to Sea as much as I could, resolving
               to speak with them if possible.</p>
            <p>With all the Sail I could make, I found I should not be able to come in their Way,
               but that they would be gone by, before I could make any Signal to them; but after I
               had crowded to the utmost, and began to despair, they it seems saw me by the help of
               their Perspective-Glasses, and that it was some <hi rend="italic">European</hi> Boat, which as they
               supposed must belong to some Ship that was lost, so they shortned Sail to let me come up. I was encouraged with this, and as I had my Patroon's
               Antient on Board, I made a Waft of it to them for a Signal of Distress, and fir'd a
               Gun, both which they saw, for they told me they saw the Smoke, tho' they did not hear
               the Gun; upon these Signals they very kindly brought too, and lay by for me, and in
                  about three Hours time I came up with them.</p>
            <p>They ask'd me what I was, in <hi rend="italic">Portuguese,</hi> and in <hi rend="italic">Spanish,</hi> and in
                  <hi rend="italic">French,</hi> but I understood none of <pb n="37"/>
               them; but at last a <hi rend="italic">Scots</hi> Sailor who was on board, call'd to me, and I
               answer'd him, and told him I was an <hi rend="italic">Englishman,</hi> that I had made my escape
               out of Slavery from the <hi rend="italic">Moors</hi> at <hi rend="italic">Sallee</hi>; then they bad me come on
               board, and very kindly took me in, and all my Goods.</p>
            <p>It was an inexpressible Joy to me, that any one will believe, that I was thus
               deliver'd, as I esteem'd it, from such a miserable and
               almost hopeless Condition as I was in, and I immediately
                  offered all I had to the Captain of the Ship, as a Return
               for my Deliverance; but he generously told me, he would take nothing from me, but
               that all I had should be deliver'd safe to me when I came to the <hi rend="italic">Brasils,</hi>
               for says he, <hi rend="italic">I have sav'd your Life on no other Terms than I would be glad to be
                  saved my self, and it may one time or other be my Lot to be taken up in the same
                  Condition; besides,</hi> said he, <hi rend="italic">when I carry you to the</hi> Brasils, <hi rend="italic">so
                  great a way from your own Country, if I should take from you what you have, you
                  will be starved there, and then I only take away that Life I have given. No, no,
                  Seignor</hi> Inglese, says he, <hi rend="italic">Mr.</hi> Englishman, <hi rend="italic">I will carry you
                  thither in Charity, and those things will help you to buy your Subsistance there
                  and your Passage home again.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>As he was Charitable in his Proposal, so he was Just in the Performance <ref target="tittle_" corresp="tittle">to a tittle</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="tittle" target="tittle_" type="gloss">Down
                  to the smallest detail; to the highest degree</note>, for he ordered the Seamen
               that none should offer to touch any thing I had; then he took every thing into his
               own Possession, and gave me back an exact Inventory of them, that I might have them,
               even so much as my three Earthen Jarrs.</p>
            <p>As to my Boat it was a very good one, and that he saw, and told me he would buy it of
               me for the Ship's use, and ask'd me what I would have for it? I told him he had been
               so generous to me in every thing, that I could not offer to make any <pb n="38"/> Price of the Boat,
               but left it entirely to him, upon which he told me he would give me a Note of his
               Hand to pay me <ref target="po8_" corresp="po8">80 Pieces of Eight</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="po8" target="po8_" type="gloss">Eighty
                  Spanish dollars ("Pieces of eight" were so called because one was worth eight
                  Spanish reales.)</note> for it at <hi rend="italic">Brasil,</hi> and when it came there, if any
               one offer'd to give more he would make it up; he offer'd me
               also 60 Pieces of Eight more for my Boy <hi rend="italic">Xury,</hi> which I was loath to take, not
               that I was not willing to let the Captain have him, but I was very loath to sell the
               poor Boy's Liberty, who had assisted me so faithfully in
               procuring my own. However when I let him know my Reason. he
               own'd it to be just, and offer'd me this Medium, that he would give the Boy an
               Obligation to set him free in ten Years, if he turn'd Christian; upon this, and
                  <hi rend="italic">Xury</hi> saying he was willing to go to him, I let the Captain have him.</p>
            <p>We had a very good Voyage to the <hi rend="italic">Brasils,</hi> and arriv'd in the <hi rend="italic">Bay de Todos los Santos,</hi> or <ref target="allsaints_" corresp="allsaints">All-Saints Bay,</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="allsaints" target="allsaints_" type="gloss">A bay near Salvador.</note> in
               about <ref target="twentytwo_" corresp="twentytwo">Twenty-two Days after</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="twentytwo" target="twentytwo_" type="gloss">This duration is actually remarkably short. Merchant vessels carrying
                  slaves and cargo could take anywhere from four weeks to several months to travel
                  from the Gold Coast to the Americas.</note>. And now I was once more deliver'd
               from the most miserable of all Conditions of Life, and what to do next with my self I
               was now to consider.</p>
            <p>The generous Treatment the Captain gave me, I can never enough remember; he would
               take nothing of me for my Passage, gave me <ref target="ducat_" corresp="ducat">twenty Ducats</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="ducat" target="ducat_" type="gloss">A gold or silver trade coin, formerly current in most
                  European countries.</note> for the Leopard's Skin, and forty for the Lyon's Skin
               which I had in my Boat, and caused every thing I had in the Ship to be punctually
               deliver'd me, and what I was willing to sell he bought, such as the Case of Bottles,
               two of my Guns, and a Piece of the Lump of Bees-wax, for I had made Candles of the
               rest; in a word, I made about 220 Pieces of Eight of all my Cargo, and with this
               Stock I went on Shoar in the <hi rend="italic">Brasilo.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>I had not been long here, but being recommended to the House
               of a good honest Man like himself, who had an
                  <hi rend="italic">Ingeino</hi> as they call it; that is, a <pb n="39"/>
               Plantation and a <ref target="sugarhouse_" corresp="sugarhouse">Sugar-House</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="sugarhouse" target="sugarhouse_" type="gloss">Portugal colonized Brazil in the late sixteenth
                  century and instituted the lucrative sugar plantation system, which relied on
                  African and Native American slave labor. In the seventeenth century, Brazil was
                  the world's leading exporter of sugar.</note>. I lived with him some time, and
               acquainted my self by that means with the Manner of their planting and making of
               Sugar; and seeing how well the Planters liv'd, and how they grew rich suddenly, I
               resolv'd, if I could get Licence to settle there, I would turn Planter among them,
               resolving in the mean time to find out some Way to get my Money which I had left in
                  <hi rend="italic">London</hi> remitted to me. To this Purpose getting a kind of a Letter of
               Naturalization, I purchased as much Land that was Uncur'd, as my Money would reach,
               and form'd a Plan for my Plantation and Settlement, and such
               a one as might be suitable to the Stock which I proposed to my self to receive from
                  <hi rend="italic">England.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>I had a Neighbour, a <hi rend="italic">Portugueze</hi> of <hi rend="italic">Lisbon,</hi> but born of
                  <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Parents, whose Name was <hi rend="italic">Wells,</hi> and in much such
               Circumstances as I was. I call him my Neighbour, because his Plantation lay next to
               mine, and we went on very sociably together. My Stock was but low as well as his; and
               we rather planted for Food than any thing else, for about two Years. However, we
               began to increase, and our Land began to come into Order; so that the third Year we
               planted some Tobacco, and made each of us a large Piece of Ground ready for planting
               Canes in the Year to come; but we both wanted Help, and now I found more than before,
               I had done wrong in parting with my Boy <hi rend="italic">Xury.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>But alas! for me to do wrong that never did right, was no great Wonder: I had no
               Remedy but to go on; I was gotten into an Employment quite remote to my Genius, and
               directly contrary to the Life I delighted in, and for which I forsook my Father's House, and broke thro' all his good Advice; nay, I
               was coming into the very Middle Station, or upper Degree of low Life, which my Father
                  advised me to before; and which if I resolved to go on
                  <pb n="40"/> with, I might as well ha' staid at Home, and
               never have fatigu'd my self in the World as I had done; and I used often to say to my
               self, I could ha' done this as well in <hi rend="italic">England</hi> among my Friends, as ha' gone
               5000 Miles off to do it among Strangers and Salvages in a Wilderness, and at such a
               Distance, as never to hear from any Part of the World that had the least Knowledge of
               me.</p>
            <p>In this manner I used to look upon my Condition with the utmost Regret. I had no body
               to converse with but now and then this Neighbour; no Work to
               be done, but by the Labour of my Hands; and I used to say, I liv'd just like a Man
               cast away upon some desolate Island, that had no body there but himself. But how just
               has it been, and how should all Men reflect, that when they compare their present Conditions with others that are worse, Heaven may
               oblige them to make the Exchange, and be convinc'd of their former Felicity by their
                  Experience: I say, how just has it been, that the truly
                  solitary Life I reflected on in an Island of meer
                  Desolation should be my Lot, who had so often unjustly
               compar'd it with the Life which I then led, in which had I continued, I had in all
               Probability been exceeding prosperous and rich.</p>
            <p>I was in some Degree settled in my Measures for carrying on the Plantation, before my
               kind Friend the Captain of the Ship that took me up at Sea, went back; for the Ship
               remained there in providing his Loading, and preparing for
               his Voyage, near three Months, when telling him what little Stock I had left behind
               me in <hi rend="italic">London,</hi> he gave me this friendly and sincere Advice, <hi rend="italic">Seignior
                  Inglese says he</hi>; for so he always called me, if you will give me Letters, and
               a Procuration here in Form to me, with Orders to the Person who has your Money in
                  <hi rend="italic">London,</hi> to send your Effects to <hi rend="italic">Lisbon,</hi> to such Persons as I
               shall direct, <pb n="41"/> and in
               such Goods as are proper for this Country, I will bring you
               the Produce of them, God willing, at my Return; but since human Affairs are all
               subject to Changes and Disasters, I would have you give Orders but for One Hundred
               Pounds <ref target="sterl_" corresp="sterl">Sterl.</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="sterl" target="sterl_" type="gloss">British pounds are also referred to as pounds sterling</note> which you say is
               Half your Stock, and let the Hazard be run for the first; so
               that if it come safe, you may order the rest the same Way; and if it miscarry, you
               may have the other Half to have Recourse to for your
               Supply.</p>
            <p>This was so wholesom Advice, and look'd so friendly, that I could not but be
               convinc'd it was the best Course I could take; so I accordingly prepared Letters to
               the Gentlewoman with whom I had left my Money, and a Procuration to the
                  <hi rend="italic">Portuguese</hi> Captain, as he desired.</p>
            <p>I wrote the <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Captain's Widow a full Account of all my Adventures, my
               Slavery, Escape, and how I had met with the <hi rend="italic">Portugal</hi> Captain at Sea, the
                  Humanity of his Behaviour, and in what Condition I was
               now in, with all other necessary Directions for my Supply; and when this honest
               Captain came to <hi rend="italic">Lisbon,</hi> he found means by some of the <hi rend="italic">English</hi>
               Merchants there, to send over not the Order only, but a full Account of my Story to a
               Merchant at <hi rend="italic">London,</hi> who represented it effectually to her; whereupon, she
               not only delivered the Money, but out of her own Pocket sent the <hi rend="italic">Portugal</hi>
               Captain a very handsom Present for his Humanity and Charity
               to me.</p>
            <p>The Merchant in <hi rend="italic">London</hi> vesting this Hundred Pounds in <hi rend="italic">English</hi>
               Goods, such as the Captain had writ for, sent them directly to him at
                  <hi rend="italic">Lisbon,</hi> and he brought them all safe to me to the <hi rend="italic">Brasils,</hi> among
               which, without my Direction (for I was too young in my Business to think of them) he
               had taken Care to have all Sorts of Tools, Iron-Work, and Utensils <pb n="42"/> necessary for my Plantation, and which
               were of great Use to me.</p>
            <p>When this Cargo arrived, I thought my Fortunes made, for I was surprised with the Joy
               of it; and my good Steward the Captain had laid out the Five Pounds which my Friend
               had sent him for a Present for himself, to purchase, and
               bring me over a Servant under Bond for six Years Service, and would not accept of any
               Consideration, except a little Tobacco, which I would have
               him accept, being of my own Produce.</p>
            <p>Neither was this all; but my Goods being all <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Manufactures, such as
               Cloath, Stuffs, Bays, and things particularly valuable and desirable in the Country,
               I found means to sell them to a very great Advantage; so that I might say, I had more
               than four times the Value of my first Cargo, and was now infinitely beyond my poor
               Neighbour, I mean in the Advancement of my Plantation; for the first thing I did, I
               bought me a Negro Slave, and an <hi rend="italic">European</hi> Servant also; I mean another
               besides that which the Captain brought me from <hi rend="italic">Lisbon.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>But as abus'd Prosperity is oftentimes made the very Means of our greatest Adversity,
               so was it with me. I went on the next Year with great Success in my Plantation: I
               raised fifty great Rolls of Tobacco on my own Ground, more
               than I had disposed of for Necessaries among my Neighbours; and these fifty Rolls
               being each of above a <ref target="hundredweight2_" corresp="hundredweight2">100
                     <hi rend="italic">Wt.</hi>
                            </ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="hundredweight2" target="hundredweight2_" type="gloss">A hundredweight, also known as a centum
                  weight or quintal, equal to eight stone, or about 112 lb according to the imperial
                  system. (The American hundredweight, by contrast, equals 100 lb.)</note> were well
               cur'd and laid by against the Return of the Fleet from <hi rend="italic">Lisbon</hi>: and now
               increasing in Business and in Wealth, my Head began to be full of Projects and Undertakings beyond my Reach; such as are indeed
               often the Ruine of the best Heads in Business.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="43"/>Had I continued in the Station I was now in, I
               had room for all the happy things to have yet befallen me,
               for which my Father so earnestly recommended a quiet retired
               Life, and of which he had so sensibly describ'd the middle Station of Life to be full
               of; but other things attended me, and I was still to be the wilful Agent of all my
               own Miseries; and particularly to encrease my Fault and double the Reflections upon
               my self, which in my future Sorrows I should have leisure to make; all these
               Miscarriages were procured by my apparent obstinate adhering to my foolish inclination of wandring abroad and pursuing that Inclination, in contradiction to the clearest Views of doing
               my self good in a fair and plain pursuit of those Prospects and those measures of
               Life, which Nature and Providence concurred to present me with, and to make my
               Duty.</p>
            <p>As I had once done thus in my breaking away from my Parents, so I could not be
               content now, but I must go and leave the happy View I had of being a rich and thriving Man in my new Plantation, only to
               pursue a rash and immoderate Desire of rising faster than the Nature of the Thing
                  admitted; and thus I cast my self down again into the
               deepest Gulph of human Misery that ever Man fell into, or perhaps could be consistent
               with Life and a State Health of in the World.</p>
            
            <head> <ref target="Audio4_" corresp="Audio4">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio4" target="Audio4_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_04_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            
            <p>To come then by just Degrees, to the Particulars of this
               Part of my Story; you may suppose, that having now lived
               almost four Years in the <hi rend="italic">Brasilo,</hi> and beginning to thrive and prosper very well upon my Plantation; I had not only learn'd the
               Language, but had contracted Acquaintance and Friendship among my Fellow-Planters, as
               well as among the Merchants at St. <hi rend="italic">Salvadore,</hi> which was our Port; and that
               in my Discourses among <pb n="44"/> them, I had frequently
               given them an Account of my two Voyages to the Coast of <hi rend="italic">Guinea,</hi> the manner
               of Trading with the <hi rend="italic">Negroes</hi> there, and how easy it was to purchase upon the
               Coast, for Trifles, such as Beads, Toys, Knives, Scissars, Hatchets, bits of Glass,
               and the like; not only Gold Dust, <hi rend="italic">Guinea</hi> Grains, Elephants Teeth,
                  <hi rend="italic">&amp;c.</hi> but <hi rend="italic">Negroes</hi> for the Service of the <hi rend="italic">Brasils,</hi> in
               great Numbers.</p>
            <p>They listened always very attentively to my Discourses on these Heads, but especially
               to that Part which related to the buying <hi rend="italic">Negroes,</hi> which was a Trade at that
               time not only not far entred into, but as far as it was, had been carried on by the
                  <ref target="asiento_" corresp="asiento">Assiento's</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="asiento" target="asiento_" type="gloss">The asiento was the contract to provide slaves to the Spanish and Portuguese
                  colonies in the Americas. At the time of the publication of Robinson Crusoe, the
                  contract was held by Great Britain, which could not exercise it in 1718 and 1719
                  due to the outbreak of war with Spain. The language here makes it seem as though
                  African slaves were rare in Brazil, but in reality, the sugar and tobacco
                  plantations of colonial Brazil were heavily dependent on slave labor and the
                  trans-Atlantic slave trade. In 1888, Brazil became the last country in the Western
                  world to abolish slavery.</note>, or Permission of the Kings of <hi rend="italic">Spain</hi> and
                  <hi rend="italic">Portugal,</hi> and engross'd in the Publick, so that few <hi rend="italic">Negroes</hi> were
               brought, and those excessive dear.</p>
            <p>It happen'd, being in Company with some Merchants and
               Planters of my Acquaintance, and talking of those things very earnestly, three of
               them came to me the next Morning, and told me they had been musing very much upon
               what I had discoursed with them of, the last Night, and they came to make a secret
               Proposal to me; and after enjoining me Secrecy, they told me, that they had a mind to
               fit out a Ship to go to <ref target="guinea_" corresp="guinea">Guinea,</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="guinea" target="guinea_" type="gloss">A
                  country south of Guinea-Bissau and north of Sierra Leone, along the west coast of
                  Africa</note> that they had all Plantations as well as I, and were <ref target="straiten_" corresp="straiten">straiten'd for</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="straiten" target="straiten_" type="gloss">Lacking</note> nothing so much as Servants; that as it was a Trade that could not
               be carried on, because they <ref target="sale_" corresp="sale">could not publickly sell the <hi rend="italic">Negroes</hi>
                            </ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="sale" target="sale_" type="gloss">Because
                  the sales were not authorized by the Spanish or Portuguese crowns under the terms
                  of the asiento.</note> when they came home, so they desired to make but one
               Voyage, to bring the <hi rend="italic">Negroes</hi> on Shoar privately, and divide them among their
               own Plantations; and in a Word, the Question was, whether I would go their
               Super-Cargo in the Ship to manage the Trading Part upon the Coast <pb n="45"/> of <hi rend="italic">Guinea</hi>? And they offer'd me that I should
               have my equal Share of the <hi rend="italic">Negroes</hi> without providing any Part of the
               Stock.</p>
            <p>This was a fair Proposal it must be confess'd, had it been made to any one that had
               not had a Settlement and Plantation of his own to look after, which was in a fair way
               of coming to be very Considerable, and with a good Stock upon it. But for me that was
               thus entered and established, and had nothing to do but go on as I had begun for
               three or four Years more, and to have sent for the other hundred Pound from
                  <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> and who in that time, and with that little Addition, could
               scarce ha' fail'd of being worth three or four thousand
               Pounds Sterling, and that encreasing too; for me to think of such a Voyage, was the
               most prepostorous Thing that ever Man in such Circumstances could be guilty of.</p>
            <p>But I that was born to be my own Destroyer, could no more resist the Offer than I
               could restrain my first rambling Designs, when my Father's good Counsel was lost upon me. In a word, I told them
               I would go with all my Heart, if they would undertake to look after my Plantation in
               my Absence, and would dispose of it to such as I should direct if I miscarry'd. This
               they all engag'd to do, and entred into Writings or Covenants to do so; and I made a formal Will, disposing of my
               Plantation and Effects, in Case of my Death, making the Captain of the Ship that had
               sav'd my Life as before, my universal Heir, but obliging him to dispose of my Effects
               as I had directed in my Will, one half of the Produce being
               to himself, and the other to be ship'd to <hi rend="italic">England.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>In short, I took all possible Caution to preserve my Effects, and keep up my
               Plantation; had I used half as much Prudence to have look'd
               into my <pb n="46"/> own Intrest, and have made a Judgment
               of what I ought to have done, and not to have done, I had certainly never gone away
               from so prosperous an Undertaking, leaving all the probable
               Views of a thriving Circumstance, and gone upon a Voyage to
               Sea, attended with all its common Hazards; to say nothing of
               the Reasons I had to expect particular Misfortunes to my self.</p>
            <p>But I was hurried on, and obey'd blindly the Dictates of my Fancy rather than my
               Reason; and accordingly the Ship being fitted out, and the Cargo furnished, and all
               things done as by Agreement, by my Partners in the Voyage. I
               went on Board in an evil Hour, the _____ th of _____ , being the same Day eight Year that I went from my Father and Mother at <hi rend="italic">Hull,</hi> in order to act the Rebel to their Authority, and
               the Fool to my own Interest.</p>
            <p>Our Ship was about 120 Tun Burthen, carried 6 Guns, and 14 Men, besides the Master,
               his Boy, and my self; we had on board no large Cargo of Goods, except of such Toys as
               were fit for our Trade with the <hi rend="italic">Negroes,</hi> such as Beads, bits of Glass,
               Shells, and odd Trifles, especially little Looking-Glasses, Knives, Scissars,
               Hatchets, and the like.</p>
            <p>The same Day I went on board we set sail, standing away to the Northward upon our own
               Coast, with Design to stretch over for the <hi rend="italic">Affrican</hi> Coast, when they came
               about 10 or 12 Degrees of Northern Latitude, which it seems was the manner of their Course in those Days. We had very good Weather,
               only excessive hot, all the way upon our own Coast, till we
               came the Height of <hi rend="italic">Cape</hi> St. <hi rend="italic">Augustino,</hi> from whence keeping farther
               off at Sea we lost Sight of Land, and steer'd as if we was bound for the Isle <ref target="fernand_" corresp="fernand">Fernand de Noronha</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="fernand" target="fernand_" type="gloss">An
                  archipelago off the coast of Brazil, northwest of Cape St. Augustine</note>
               holding <pb n="47"/> our Course <hi rend="italic">N.E.</hi> by <hi rend="italic">N.</hi>
               and leaving those Isles on the East; in this Course we past the Line in about 12 Days
               time, and were by our last Observation in 7 Degrees 22 <ref target="latitude_" corresp="latitude">Min.</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="latitude" target="latitude_" type="gloss">The degree, the primary unit if
                  latitude, can be subdivided twice into smaller units: each degree consists of 60
                  minutes, and each minute of 60 seconds.</note> Northern Latitude, when a violent
               Tournado or Hurricane took us quite out of our Knowledge; it began from the
               South-East, came about to the North-West, and then settled into the North-East, from
               whence it blew in such a terrible manner, that for twelve Days together we could do
               nothing but drive, and scudding away before it, let it carry us whither ever Fate and
               the Fury of the Winds directed; and during these twelve Days, I need not say, that I
               expected every Day to be swallowed up, nor indeed did any in
               the Ship expect to save their Lives.</p>
            <p>In this Distress, we had besides the Terror of the Storm, one of our Men dyed of the
                  <ref target="calenture2_" corresp="calenture2">Calenture</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="calenture2" target="calenture2_" type="gloss">Feverish delirium prevalent in the tropics.</note>, and one Man and
               the Boy wash'd over board; about the 12th Day the Weather
               abating a little, the Master made an Observation as well as he could, and found that
               he was in about 11 Degrees North Latitude, but that he was 22 Degrees of Longitude
               difference West from <hi rend="italic">Cape</hi> St. <hi rend="italic">Augustino</hi>; so that he found he was
               gotten upon the Coast of <ref target="guinea2_" corresp="guinea2">Guinea,</ref> or
               the North Part of <hi rend="italic">Brasil,</hi>
               <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="guinea2" target="guinea2_" type="gloss">The language here can be misleading. Crusoe is not referring to Guinea, on the
                  west coast of Africa, but to the Guianas, a region of South America north of
                  Brazil.</note> beyond the River <hi rend="italic">Amozones,</hi> toward that of the River
                     <hi rend="italic">Oronoque,</hi> commonly call'd the <ref target="amazon_" corresp="amazon">Great River,</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="amazon" target="amazon_" type="gloss">The
                  Amazon River extends from Peru through Brazil, and the Orinoco River from
                  Venezuela to Colombia. These details help the reader to estimate the location of
                  the island on which Crusoe is marooned.</note> and began
               to consult with me what Course he should take, for the Ship was leaky and very much
                  disabled, and he was going directly back to the Coast of
                  <hi rend="italic">Brasil.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>I was positively against that, and looking over the Charts of the Sea-Coast of
                  <hi rend="italic">America</hi> with him, we concluded there was no inhabited Country for us to
               have recourse to, till we came within the Circle of the <ref target="caribbean_" corresp="caribbean">Carrible-Islands,</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="caribbean" target="caribbean_" type="gloss">Caribbean Islands</note> and therefore resolved to stand away for
                  <hi rend="italic">Barbadoes,</hi> which by keeping off <pb n="48"/> at
               Sea, to avoid the Indraft of the Bay or Gulph of <hi rend="italic">Mexico,</hi> we might easily
               perform, as we hoped, in about fifteen Days Sail; whereas we could not possibly make
               our Voyage to the Coast of <hi rend="italic">Affrica</hi> without some Assistance, both to our Ship
               and to our selves.</p>
            <p>With this Design we chang'd our Course and steer'd away <hi rend="italic">N. W.</hi> by <hi rend="italic">W.</hi>
               in order to reach some of our <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Islands, where I hoped for Relief; but our Voyage was otherwise determined, for being in
               the Latitude of 12 Deg. 18 Min. a second Storm came upon us, which carry'd us away with the same Impetuosity Westward, and drove us so out
               of the very Way of all humane Commerce, that had all our Lives been saved, as to the
               Sea, we were rather in Danger of being devoured by Savages
               than ever returning to our own Country.</p>
            <p>In this Distress, the Wind still blowing very hard, one of our Men early in the
               Morning, cry'd out, <hi rend="italic">Land</hi>; and we had no sooner run out of the Cabbin to look
               out in hopes of seeing where abouts in the World we were; but the Ship struck upon a
               Sand, and in a moment her Motion being so stopp'd, the Sea broke over her in such a
               manner, that we expected we should all have perish'd
               immediately, and we were immediately driven into our close
               Quarters to shelter us from the very Foam and Sprye of the Sea.</p>
            <p>It is not easy for any one, who has not been in the like Condition, to describe or
               conceive the Consternation of Men in such Circumstances; we knew nothing where we
               were, or upon what Land it was we were driven, whether an Island or the Main, whether
               inhabited or not inhabited; and as the Rage of the Wind was still great, tho' rather less than at first, we could not so much as <pb n="49"/> hope to have the Ship hold many Minutes without breaking in Pieces, unless the Winds by a kind of
               Miracle should turn immediately about. In a word, we sat looking upon one another,
               and expecting Death every Moment, and every Man acting accordingly, as preparing for
               another World, for there was little or nothing more for us to do in this; that which
               was our present Comfort, and all the Comfort we had, was, that contrary to our
               Expectation the Ship did not break yet, and that the Master said the Wind began to
                  abate.</p>
            <p>Now tho' we thought that the Wind did a little abate, yet
               the Ship having thus struck upon the Sand, and sticking too fast for us to expect her
               getting off, we were in a dreadful Condition indeed, and had nothing to do but to
               think of saving our Lives as well as we could; we had a Boat
               at our Stern just before the Storm, but she was first <ref target="stave_" corresp="stave">stav'd</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="stave" target="stave_" type="gloss">The hull probably bashed in</note> by dashing against
               the Ship's Rudder, and in the next Place she broke away, and
                  either sunk or was driven off to Sea, so there was no
               hope from her; we had another Boat on board, but how to get her off into the Sea, was
               a doubtful thing; however there was no room to debate, for
               we fancy'd the Ship would break in Pieces every Minute, and
               some told us she was actually broken already.</p>
            <p>In this Distress the Mate of our Vessel lays hold of the Boat, and with the help of
               the rest of the Men, they got her slung over the Ship's-side, and getting all into
               her, let go, and committed our selves being Eleven in Number, to God's Mercy, and the
               wild Sea; for tho' the Storm was abated considerably, yet the Sea went dreadful high
                  upon the Shore, and might well be call'd, <ref target="wildzee_" corresp="wildzee">Den wild Zee,</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="wildzee" target="wildzee_" type="gloss">"the wild sea"</note> as the <hi rend="italic">Dutch</hi> call the Sea in a Storm.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="50"/>And now our Case was very dismal indeed; for we
               all saw plainly, that the Sea went so high, that the Boat could not live, and that we
               should be inevitably drowned. As to making Sail, we had
               none, nor, if we had, could we ha' done any thing with it; so we work'd at the Oar
               towards the Land, tho' with heavy Hearts, like Men going to Execution; for we all knew, that when the Boat came nearer the
               Shore, she would be dash'd in a Thousand Pieces by the
               Breach of the Sea. However, we committed our Souls to God in the most earnest Manner,
               and the Wind driving us towards the Shore, we hasten'd our Destruction with our own
               Hands, pulling as well as we could towards Land.</p>
            <p>What the Shore was, whether Rock or Sand, whether Steep or Shoal, we knew not; the
               only Hope that could rationally give us the least Shadow of Expectation, was, if we
               might happen into some Bay or Gulph, or the Mouth of some River, where by great
               Chance we might have run our Boat in, or got <ref target="leeland_" corresp="leeland">under the Lee of the Land</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="leeland" target="leeland_" type="gloss">In such a position that the land
                  intercepts the wind, so that it does not buffet the boat.</note> , and perhaps
               made smooth Water. But there was nothing of this appeared; but as we made nearer and
               nearer the Shore, the Land look'd more frightful than the Sea.</p>
            <p>After we had row'd, or rather driven about a <ref target="leaguepointfive_" corresp="leaguepointfive">League and a Half</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="leaguepointfive" target="leaguepointfive_" type="gloss">Approximately three and a half miles</note>, as we reckon'd it, a
               raging Wave, Mountain-like, came rowling <ref target="astern_" corresp="astern">a-stern</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="astern" target="astern_" type="gloss">Towards the rear of the boat</note> of us, and
               plainly bad us expect the <ref target="coup_" corresp="coup">Coup de
                  Grace.</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="coup" target="coup_" type="gloss">Death blow</note> In a word, it took us with such a Fury, that it
               overset the Boat at once; and separating us as well from the Boat, as from one
               another, gave us not time hardly to say, O God! for we were all swallowed up in a
               Moment.</p>
            <p>Nothing can describe the Counfusion of Thought which I felt when I sunk into the
               Water; for tho' I swam very well, yet I could not deliver my self from the Waves so
               as to draw Breath, till that Wave <pb n="51"/> having driven
               me, or rather carried me a vast Way on towards the Shore, and having spent it self,
               went back, and left me upon the Land almost dry, but half-dead with the Water I took
               in. I had so much Presence of Mind as well as Breath left, that seeing my self nearer
               the main Land than I expected, I got upon my Feet, and endeavoured to make on towards
               the Land as fast as I could, before another Wave should return, and take me up again.
               But I soon found it was impossible to avoid it; for I saw the Sea come after me as
               high as a great Hill, and as furious as an Enemy which I had no Means or Strength to
               contend with; my Business was to hold my Breath, and raise my self upon the Water, if
               I could; and so by swimming to preserve my Breathing, and
               Pilot my self towards the Shore, if possible; my greatest
               Concern now being, that the Sea, as it would carry me a great Way towards the Shore
               when it came on, might not carry me back again with it when it gave back towards the
               Sea.</p>
            <p>The Wave that came upon me again, buried me at once 20 or 30 Foot deep in its own
               Body; and I could feel my self carried with a mighty Force and Swiftness towards the
               Shore a very great Way; but I held my Breath, and assisted my self to swim still
               forward with all my Might. I was ready to burst with holding my Breath, when, as I
               felt my self rising up, so to my immediate Relief, I found my Head and Hands shoot
               out above the Surface of the Water; and tho' it was not two Seconds of Time that I
               could keep my self so, yet it reliev'd me greatly, gave me Breath and new Courage. I
               was covered again with Water a good while, but not so long but I held it out; and
               finding the Water had spent it self, and began to return, I strook forward against the Return of the Waves, and felt Ground again
               with my Feet. I stood still a few <pb n="52"/> Moments to
               recover Breath, and till the Water went from me, and then took to my Heels, and run
               with what Strength I had farther towards the Shore. But neither would this deliver me
               from the Fury of the Sea, which came pouring in after me again, and twice more I was
               lifted up by the Waves, and carried forwards as before, the Shore being very
               flat.</p>
            <p>The last Time of these two had well near been fatal to me; for the Sea having hurried
               me along as before, landed me, or rather dash'd me against a Piece of a Rock, and
               that with such Force, as it left me senseless, and indeed helpless, as to my own
               Deliverance; for the Blow taking my Side and Breast, beat the Breath as it were quite
               out of my Body; and had it returned again immediately, I must have been strangled in
               the Water; but I recover'd a little before the return of the
               Waves, and seeing I should be cover'd again with the Water, I resolv'd to hold fast
               by a Piece of the Rock, and so to hold my Breath, if possible, till the Wave went
               back; now as the Waves were not so high as at first, being nearer Land, I held my
               Hold till the Wave abated, and then fetch'd another Run,
               which brought me so near the Shore, that the next Wave, tho' it went over me, yet did
               not so swallow me up as to carry me away, and the next run I took, I got to the main
               Land, where, to my great Comfort, I clamber'd up the Clifts of the Shore, and sat me
               down upon the Grass, free from Danger, and quite out of the Reach of the Water.</p>
            <p>I was now landed, and safe on Shore, and began to look up and thank God that my Life
               was sav'd in a Case wherein there was some Minutes before scarce any room to hope. I
               believe it is impossible to express to the Life what the
               Extasies and Transports of <pb n="53"/> the Soul are, when
               it is so sav'd, as I may say, out of the very Grave; and I do not wonder now at that
               Custom, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> That when a <ref target="malefactor_" corresp="malefactor">Malefactor</ref> who has the Halter about his Neck, is tyed up, and just going to
               be turn'd off, and has a Reprieve brought to him: I say, I do not wonder that they
               bring a Surgeon with it, to let him Blood that very Moment
               they tell him of it, that the Surprise may not drive the Animal Spirits from the
               Heart, and overwhelm him: <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="malefactor" target="malefactor_" type="gloss">Crusoe compares himself to a criminal condemned to be hanged, who
                  receives a last-minute pardon or reduced sentence. Bleeding was thought to release
                  adverse humors from the body, in this case those produced by the shock of the
                  lightened sentence.</note>
               <lg>
                                <l>For sudden Joys, like Griefs, confound at first.</l>
                            </lg>
            </p>
            <p>I walk'd about on the Shore, lifting up my Hands, and my whole Being, as I may say,
               wrapt up in the Contemplation of my Deliverance, making a Thousand Gestures and Motions which I cannot describe, reflecting upon all my Comerades
               that were drown'd, and that there should not be one Soul sav'd but my self; for, as
               for them, I never saw them afterwards, or any Sign of them, except three of their
               Hats, one Cap, and two Shoes that were <ref target="shoes_" corresp="shoes">not
                  Fellows</ref>. <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="shoes" target="shoes_" type="gloss">Did not comprise a single identical pair</note>
            </p>
            <p>I cast my Eyes to the stranded Vessel, when the Breach and Froth of the Sea being so
               big, I could hardly see it, it lay so far off, and considered, Lord! how was it
               possible I could get on Shore?</p>
            <p>After I had solac'd my Mind with the comfortable Part of my Condition, I began to
               look round me to see what kind of Place I was in, and what was next to be done, and I
               soon found my Comforts abate, and that in a word I had a dreadful Deliverance: For I
               was wet, had no Clothes to shift me, nor any thing either to eat or drink to comfort
               me, neither did I see any Prospect before me, but that of
               perishing with Hunger, or being devour'd by wild Beasts; and that which was
               particularly afflicting to me, was, that I had no Weapon either to hunt <pb n="54"/> and kill any Creature for my Sustenance, or to defend my self against any other Creature that might desire to
               kill me for theirs: In a Word, I had nothing about me but a
               Knife, a Tobacco-pipe, and a little Tobacco in a Box, this was all my Provision, and this threw me into terrible Agonies of Mind, that
               for a while I run about like a Mad-man; Night coming upon me, I began with a heavy
               Heart to consider what would be my Lot if there were any ravenous Beasts in that
               Country, seeing at Night they always come abroad for their Prey.</p>
            <p>All the Remedy that offer'd to my Thoughts at that Time, was, to get up into a thick
               bushy Tree like a Firr, but thorny, which grew near me, and where I resolv'd to set
               all Night, and consider the next Day what Death I should dye, for as yet I saw no
               Prospect of Life; I walk'd about a <ref target="furlong_" corresp="furlong">Furlong</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="furlong" target="furlong_" type="gloss">One eighth of a mile, or 220 yards.</note> from the
               Shore, to see if I could find any fresh Water to drink,
               which I did, to my great Joy; and having drank and put a little Tobacco in my Mouth
               to prevent Hunger, I went to the Tree, and getting up into it, endeavour'd to place
               my self so, as that if I should sleep I might not fall; and having cut me a short
               Stick, like a Truncheon, for my Defence, I took up my Lodging, and having been excessively fatigu'd, I fell fast asleep, and
               slept as comfortably as, I believe, few could have done in my Condition, and found my
               self the most refresh'd with it, that I think I ever was on such an Occasion.</p>
            
            <head> <ref target="Audio5_" corresp="Audio5">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio5" target="Audio5_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_05_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            <p>When I wak'd it was broad Day, the Weather clear, and the Storm abated, so that the
               Sea did not rage and swell as before: But that which surpris'd me most, was, that the Ship was lifted off in the Night from the Sand where
               she lay, by the Swelling of the Tyde, and was driven up almost as far as the Rock which I first mention'd, <pb n="55"/> where I had been so bruis'd by the dashing me against
               it; this being within about a Mile from the Shore where I was, and the Ship seeming to stand upright still, I wish'd my self on board, that,
               at least, I might save some necessary things for my use.</p>
            <p>When I came down from my Appartment in the Tree, I look'd about me again, and the
               first thing I found was the Boat, which lay as the Wind and the Sea had toss'd her up
               upon the Land, about two Miles on my right Hand, I walk'd as
               far as I could upon the Shore to have got to her, but found a Neck or Inlet of Water
               between me and the Boat, which was about half a Mile broad, so I came back for the
               present, being more intent upon getting at the Ship, where I hop'd to find something
               for my present Subsistence.</p>
            <p>A little after Noon I found the Sea very calm, and the Tyde ebb'd so far out, that I
               could come within a Quarter of a Mile of the Ship; and here I found a fresh renewing
               of my Grief, for I saw evidently, that if we had kept on board, we had been all safe,
               that is to say, we had all got safe on Shore, and I had not been so miserable as to
               be left entirely destitute of all Comfort and Company, as I
               now was; this forc'd Tears from my Eyes again, but as there was little Relief in
               that, I resolv'd, if possible, to get to the Ship, so I pull'd off my Clothes, for
               the Weather was hot to Extremity, and took the Water, but when I came to the Ship, my
               Difficulty was still greater to know how to get on board, for as she lay a ground,
               and high out of the Water, there was nothing within my Reach to lay hold of, I swam
               round her twice, and the second Time I spy'd a small Piece of a Rope, which I
               wonder'd I did not see at first, hang down by the Fore-Chains so low, <pb n="56"/> as that with great Difficulty I got hold of it, and by
               the help of that Rope, got up into the <ref target="forecastle2_" corresp="forecastle2">Forecastle</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="forecastle2" target="forecastle2_" type="gloss">The forward part of a ship below the main deck, usually the crew's
                  living quarters.</note> of the Ship, here I found that the Ship was bulg'd, and
               had a great deal of Water in her Hold, but that she lay so on the Side of a Bank of
               hard Sand, or rather Earth, that her Stern lay lifted up upon the Bank, and her Head
               low almost to the Water; by this Means all her Quarter was free, and all that was in
               that Part was dry; for you may be sure my first Work was to search and to see what
               was spoil'd and what was free; and first I found that all the Ship's Provisions were dry and untouch'd by the Water, and being very
               well dispos'd to eat, I went to the Bread-room and fill'd my Pockets with Bisket, and eat it as I went about other things, for I had no
               time to lose; I also found some Rum in the great Cabbin, of which I took a large
               Dram, and which I had indeed need enough of to spirit me for what was before me: Now
               I wanted nothing but a Boat to furnish my self with many things which I foresaw would
               be very necessary to me.</p>
            <p>It was in vain to sit still and wish for what was not to be had, and this Extremity
               rouz'd my <ref target="application_" corresp="application">Application</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="application" target="application_" type="gloss">Ingenuity and determination (archaic usage)</note>; we had several
               spare Yards, and two or three large sparrs of Wood, and a spare Top-mast or two in
               the Ship; I resolv'd to fall to work with these, and I flung as many of them over
               board as I could manage for their Weight, tying every one with a Rope that they might
               not drive away; when this was done I went down the Ship's Side, and pulling them to
               me, I ty'd four of them fast together at both Ends as well as I could, in the Form of
               a Raft, and laying two or three short Pieces of Plank upon them cross-ways, I found I
               could walk upon it very <pb n="57"/> well, but that it was
               not able to bear any great Weight, the Pieces being too light; so I went to work, and
               with the Carpenters Saw I cut a spare Top-mast into three Lengths, and added them to
               my Raft, with a great deal of Labour and Pains, but hope of furnishing my self with
               Necessaries, encourag'd me to go beyond what I should have been able to have done
               upon another Occasion.</p>
            <p>My Raft was now strong enough to bear any reasonable Weight; my next Care was what to
               load it with, and how to preserve what I laid upon it from the Surf of the Sea; But I
               was not long considering this, I first laid all the Plank or
               Boards upon it that I could get, and having consider'd well what I most wanted, I
               first got three of the Seamens Chests, which I had broken open and empty'd, and
               lower'd them down upon my Raft; the first of these I fill'd with Provision,
                  <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> Bread, Rice, three Dutch Cheeses, five Pieces of dry'd Goat's Flesh,
               which we liv'd much upon, and a little Remainder of
                  <hi rend="italic">European</hi> Corn which had been laid by for some Fowls which we brought to
               Sea with us, but the Fowls were kill'd, there had been some Barly and Wheat together,
               but, to my great Disappointment, I found afterwards that the
               Rats had eaten or spoil'd it all; as for Liquors, I found several Cases of Bottles belonging to our <ref target="skipper_" corresp="skipper">Skipper</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="skipper" target="skipper_" type="gloss">Master of the ship</note>, in which were some <ref target="cordialwater_" corresp="cordialwater">Cordial Waters</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="cordialwater" target="cordialwater_" type="gloss">Medicinal concoctions, often consisting of brandy or whiskey mixed
                  with various spices</note>, and in all about five or six Gallons of <ref target="rack_" corresp="rack">Rack</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="rack" target="rack_" type="gloss">A type of liqeur</note>, these I stow'd
               by themselves, there being no need to put them into the Chest, nor no room for them.
               While I was doing this, I found the Tyde began to flow, tho' very calm, and I had the
               Mortification to see my Coat, Shirt, and Wast-coat which I had left on Shore upon the
               Sand, swim away; as for my Breeches which were only Linnen and open knee'd, I swam on
               board in them and my Stockings: However <pb n="58"/> this put me upon rummaging for Clothes, of which I
               found enough, but took no more than I wanted for present use, for I had other things
               which my Eye was more upon, as first Tools to work with on Shore, and it was after
               long searching that I found out the Carpenter's Chest, which
               was indeed a very useful Prize to me, and much more valuable than a Ship Loading of
               Gold would have been at that time; I got it down to my Raft, even whole as it was,
               without losing time to look into it, for I knew in general what it contain'd</p>
            <p>My next Care was for some Ammunition and Arms; there were two very good <ref target="fowlingpieces_" corresp="fowlingpieces">Fowling-pieces</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="fowlingpieces" target="fowlingpieces_" type="gloss">Shotguns</note> in the great Cabbin, and two Pistols, these I secur'd first, with some <ref target="powderhorn_" corresp="powderhorn">Powder-horns</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="powderhorn" target="powderhorn_"> type="gloss"&gt;A container for gunpowder,
                  made from an ox or buffalo horn.</note>, and a small Bag of Shot, and two old
               rusty Swords; I knew there were three Barrels of Powder in the Ship, but knew not
               where our Gunner had stow'd them, but with much search I found them, two of them dry
               and good, the third had taken Water, those two I got to my Raft, with the Arms, and
               now I thought my self pretty well freighted, and began to
               think how I should get to Shore with them, having neither Sail, Oar, or Rudder, and
               the least Cap full of Wind would have overset all my Navigation.</p>
            <p>I had three Encouragements, 1. A smooth calm Sea, 2. The Tide rising and setting in
               to the Shore, 3. What little Wind there was blew me towards the Land; and thus,
               having found two or three broken Oars belong to the Boat, and besides the Tools which were in the Chest, I found two Saws,
               an Axe, and a Hammer, and with this Cargo I put to Sea: For a Mile, or thereabouts,
               my Raft went very well, only that I found it drive a little distant from the Place
               where I had landed before, by which I perceiv'd that there
               was some <ref target="indraft_" corresp="indraft">Indraft</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="indraft" target="indraft_" type="gloss">A type of current</note>
               <pb n="59"/> of the Water, and consequently I hop'd to find
               some Creek or River there, which I might make use of as a Port to get to Land with my
               Cargo.</p>
            <p>As I imagin'd, so it was, there appear'd before me a little opening of the Land, and
               I found a strong Current of the Tide set into it, so I guided my Raft as well as I could to keep in the Middle of
               the Stream: But here I had like to have suffer'd a second Shipwreck, which, if I had,
               I think verily would have broke my Heart, for knowing
               nothing of the Coast, my Raft run a-ground at one End of it upon a Shoal, and not
               being a-ground at the other End, it wanted but a little that all my Cargo had slip'd
               off towards that End that was a-float, and so fall'n into the Water: I did my utmost
               by setting my Back against the Chests, to keep them in their Places, but could not
               thrust off the Raft with all my Strength, neither durst I
               stir from the Posture I was in, but holding up the Chests with all my Might, stood in
               that Manner near half an Hour, in which time the rising of the Water brought me a
               little more upon a Level, and a little after, the Water still rising, my Raft floated
               again, and I thrust her off with the Oar I had, into the Channel, and then driving up
               higher, I at length found my self in the Mouth of a little River, with Land on both
               Sides, and a strong Current or Tide running up, I look'd on both Sides for a proper
               Place to get to Shore, for I was not willing to be driven too high up the River,
               hoping in time to see some Ship at Sea, and therefore resolv'd to place my self as
               near the Coast as I could.</p>
            <p>At length I spy'd a little Cove on the right Shore of the Creek, to which with great
               Pain and Difficulty I guided my Raft, and at last got so near, <pb n="60"/> as that, reaching Ground with my Oar, I could thrust
               her directly in, but here I had like to have dipt all my Cargo in the Sea again; for
               that Shore lying pretty steep, that is to say sloping, there was no Place to land,
               but where one End of my Float, if it run on Shore, would lie so high, and the other
               sink lower as before, that it would endanger my Cargo again:
               All that I could do, was to wait 'till the Tide was at highest, keeping the Raft with
               my Oar like an Anchor to hold the Side of it fast to the Shore, near a flat Piece of
               Ground, which I expected the Water would flow over; and so it did: As soon as I found
               Water enough, for my Raft drew about a Foot Water, I thrust her on upon that flat
               Piece of Ground, and there fasten'd or mor'd her by sticking my two broken Oars into
               the Ground; one on one Side near one End, and one on the other Side near the other
               End; and thus I lay 'till the Water ebb'd away, and left my Raft and all my Cargoe
               safe on Shore.</p>
            <p>My next Work was to view the Country, and seek a proper Place for my Habitation, and
               where to stow my Goods to secure them from whatever might happen; where I was I yet
               knew not, whether on the Continent or on an Island, whether
                  inhabited or not inhabited, whether in Danger of wild
               Beasts or not: There was a Hill not above a Mile from me, which rose up very steep
               and high, and which seem'd to over-top some other Hills which lay as in a Ridge from
               it northward; I took out one of the fowling Pieces, and one of the Pistols, and an Horn of Powder, and thus arm'd I travell'd for
               Discovery up to the Top of that Hill, where after I had with great Labour and
                  Difficulty got to the Top, I saw my Fate to my great
               Affliction, (<hi rend="italic">viz.</hi>) that I was in an Island environ'd <pb n="61"/> every Way with the Sea, no Land to be seen, except some Rocks which lay a great Way off, and two small
               Islands less than this, which lay about three Leagues to the West.</p>
            <p>I found also that the Island I was in was barren, and, as I
               saw good Reason to believe, un-inhabited, except by wild
               Beasts, of whom however I saw none, yet I saw Abundance of Fowls, but knew not their
               Kinds, neither when I kill'd them could I tell what was fit for Food, and what not;
               at my coming back, I shot at a great Bird which I saw sitting upon a Tree on the Side
               of a great Wood, I believe it was the first Gun that had been fir'd there since the
               Creation of the World; I had no sooner fir'd, but from all the Parts of the Wood
               there arose an innumerable Number of Fowls of many Sorts, making a confus'd
               Screaming, and crying every one according to his usual Note; but not one of them of
               any Kind that I knew: As for the Creature I kill'd, I took it to be a Kind of a Hawk,
               its Colour and Beak resembling it, but had no Talons or Claws more than common, its
               Flesh was Carrion, and fit for nothing.</p>
            <p>Contented with this Discovery, I came back to my Raft, and fell to Work to bring my
               Cargoe on Shore, which took me up the rest of that Day, and what to do with my self
               at Night I knew not, nor indeed where to rest; for I was afraid to lie down on the
               Ground, not knowing but some wild Beast might devour me, tho', as I afterwards found,
               there was really no Need for those Fears.</p>
            <p>However, as well as I could, I barricado'd my self round with the Chests and Boards
               that I had brought on Shore, and made a Kind of a Hut for that Night's Lodging; as
               for Food, I yet saw not which Way to supply my self, except that I had <pb n="62"/> seen two or three Creatures like Hares run out of the
               Wood where I shot the Fowl.</p>
            <p>I now began to consider, that I might yet get a great many Things out of the Ship,
               which would be useful to me, and particularly some of the Rigging, and Sails, and such other Things as might come to Land, and I resolv'd to
               make another Voyage on Board the Vessel, if possible; and as I knew that the first
               Storm that blew must necessarily break her all in Pieces, I resolv'd to set all other
               Things apart, 'till I got every Thing out of the Ship that I could get; then I call'd
               a Council, that is to say, in my Thoughts, whether I should take back the Raft, but
               this appear'd impracticable; so I resolv'd to go as before, when the Tide was down,
               and I did so, only that I stripp'd before I went from my Hut, having nothing on but a
                  Chequer'd Shirt, and a Pair of Linnen Drawers, and a Pair
               of Pumps on my Feet.</p>
            <p>I got on Board the Ship, as before, and prepar'd a second Raft, and having had
               Experience of the first, I neither made this so unwieldy, nor loaded it so hard, but
               yet I brought away several Things very useful to me; as first, in the Carpenter's
               Stores I found two or three Bags full of Nails and Spikes, a great Skrew-Jack, a
               Dozen or two of Hatchets, and above all, that most useful Thing call'd a <ref target="grindstone_" corresp="grindstone">Grindstone</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="grindstone" target="grindstone_" type="gloss">A stone on which to sharpen stone tools</note>; all these I secur'd
               together, with several Things belonging to the Gunner,
                  particularly two or three <ref target="crowbar_" corresp="crowbar">Iron Crows</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="crowbar" target="crowbar_" type="gloss">Crowbars</note>, and two Barrels
               of Musquet Bullets, seven Musquets, and another fowling Piece, with some small
               Quantity of Powder more; a large Bag full of small Shot, and
               a great Roll of Sheet Lead: But this last was so heavy, I
               could not hoise it up to get it over the Ship's Side.</p>
            <p>Besides these Things, I took all the Mens Cloths that I could find, and a spare
               Fore-top-sail, a Hammock, <pb n="63"/> and some Bedding; and with this I loaded my second
               Raft, and brought them all safe on Shore to my very great Comfort.</p>
            <p>I was under some Apprehensions during my Absence from the
               Land, that at least my Provisions might be devour'd on Shore; but when I came back, I
               found no Sign of any Visitor, only there sat a Creature like a wild Cat upon one of
               the Chests, which when I came towards it, ran away a little Distance, and then stood
               still; she sat very compos'd, and unconcern'd, and look'd
               full in my Face, as if she had a Mind to be acquainted with me, I presented my Gun at
               her, but as she did not understand it, she was perfectly
               unconcern'd at it, nor did she offer to stir away; upon which I toss'd her a Bit of
               Bisket, tho' by the Way I was not very free of it, for my Store was not great: However, I spar'd her a Bit, I say, and she went to it, smell'd
               of it, and ate it, and look'd (as pleas'd) for more, but I thank'd her, and could
               spare no more; so she march'd off.</p>
            <p>Having got my second Cargoe on Shore, tho' I was <ref target="fain_" corresp="fain">fain</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="fain" target="fain_" type="gloss">Eager</note> to open the Barrels of Powder, and bring them by
               Parcels, for they were too heavy, being large Casks, I went to work to make me a
               little Tent with the Sail and some Poles which I cut for that Purpose, and into this
               Tent I brought every Thing that I knew would spoil, either with Rain or Sun, and I
               piled all the empty Chests and Casks up in a Circle round the Tent, to fortify it
               from any sudden Attempt, either from Man or Beast.</p>
            <p>When I had done this I block'd up the Door of the Tent with some Boards within, and
               an empty Chest set up on End without, and spreading one of
               the Beds upon the Ground, laying my two Pistols just at my Head, and my Gun at Length
               by me, I went to Bed for the first Time, and slept <pb n="64"/> very quietly all Night, for I was very weary and heavy,
               for the Night before I had slept little, and had labour'd very hard all Day, as well
               to fetch all those Things from the Ship, as to get them on Shore.</p>
            <p>I had the biggest <ref target="magazine_" corresp="magazine">Maggazin</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="magazine" target="magazine_" type="gloss">Here not referring exclusively to an arsenal of weaponry, but more generally to
                  Crusoe's store of provisions.</note> of all Kinds now that ever were laid up, I
               believe, for one Man, but I was not satisfy'd still; for while the Ship sat upright
               in that Posture, I thought I ought to get every Thing out of her that I could; so
               every Day at low Water I went on Board, and brought away some Thing or other: But
               particularly the third Time I went, I brought away as much of the Rigging as I could,
               as also all the small Ropes and Rope-twine I could get, with a Piece of spare
               Canvass, which was to mend the Sails upon Occasion, the
               Barrel of wet Gun-powder: In a Word, I brought away all the Sails first and last,
               only that I was fain to cut them in Pieces, and bring as much at a Time as I could;
               for they were no more useful to be Sails, but as meer
               Canvass only.</p>
            <p>But that which comforted me more still was, that at last of all, after I had made
               five or six such Voyages as these, and thought I had nothing more to expect from the
               Ship that was worth my medling with, I say, after all this,
               I found a great <ref target="hog_" corresp="hog">Hogshead</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="hog" target="hog_" type="gloss">A large cask, or a quantity sufficient to fill a hogshead</note> of
               Bread and three large <ref target="runlet_" corresp="runlet">Runlets</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="runlet" target="runlet_" type="gloss">A
                  cask, specifically one for storing liquids</note> of Rum or Spirits, and a Box of
               Sugar, and a Barrel of fine Flower; this was surprizing to me, because I had given
               over expecting any more Provisions, except what was spoil'd by the Water: I soon
               empty'd the Hogshead of that Bread, and wrapt it up Parcel by Parcel in Pieces of the
               Sails, which I cut out; and in a Word, I got all this safe on Shore also.</p>
            
            <head> <ref target="Audio6_" corresp="Audio6">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio6" target="Audio6_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_06_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            <p>The next Day I made another Voyage; and now having plunder'd the Ship of what was
                  portable <pb n="65"/> and fit to
               hand out, I began with the Cables; and cutting the great Cable into Pieces, such as I
               could move, I got two Cables and a <ref target="hawser_" corresp="hawser">Hawser</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="hawser" target="hawser_" type="gloss">A large rope used in warping or mooring a
                  ship</note> on Shore, with all the Iron Work I could get; and having cut down the
               Spritsail-yard, and the <ref target="missenyard_" corresp="missenyard">Missen-yard</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="missenyard" target="missenyard_" type="gloss">The cross-beams attached at right angles to the
                  masts, from which the various sails hang</note>, and every Thing I could to make a
               large Raft, I loaded it with all those heavy Goods, and came away: But my good Luck
               began now to leave me; for this Raft was so unweildy, and so overloaden, that after I
               was enter'd the little Cove, where I had landed the rest of my Goods, not being able to guide it so handily as I did the other, it
               overset, and threw me and all my Cargoe into the Water; as for my self it was no
               great Harm, for I was near the Shore; but as to my Cargoe, it was great Part of it
               lost, especially the Iron, which I expected would have been of great Use to me:
               However, when the Tide was out, I got most of the Pieces of Cable ashore, and some of
               the Iron, tho' with infinite Labour; for I was fain to dip for it into the Water, a
               Work which fatigu'd me very much: After this I went every Day on Board, and brought
               away what I could get.</p>
            <p>I had been now thirteen Days on Shore, and had been eleven Times on Board the Ship;
               in which Time I had brought away all that one Pair of Hands could well be suppos'd
               capable to bring, tho' I believe verily, had the calm
               Weather held, I should have brought away the whole Ship Piece by Piece: But preparing
               the 12th Time to go on Board, I found the Wind begin to rise; however at low Water I went on Board, and tho' I thought I had rumag'd the Cabbin so effectually, as that nothing more could
               be found, yet I discover'd a Locker with Drawers in it, in one of which I found two
               or three Razors, and one Pair of large Sizzers, with some ten or a Dozen of good
               Knives and <pb n="66"/> Forks, in another I found about
               Thirty six Pounds value in Money, some <hi rend="italic">European</hi> Coin, some <hi rend="italic">Brasil,</hi>
               some Pieces of Eight, some Gold, some Silver.</p>
            <p>I smil'd to my self at the Sight of this Money, O Drug! Said I aloud, what art thou
               good for, Thou art not worth to me, no not the taking off of the Ground, one of those
               Knives is worth all this Heap, I have no Manner of use for thee, e'en remain where
               thou art, and go to the Bottom as a Creature whose Life is not worth saving. However, upon Second Thoughts, I took it away, and wrapping all
               this in a Piece of Canvas, I began to think of making another Raft, but while I was
               preparing this, I found the Sky over-cast, and the Wind began to rise, and in a
               Quarter of an Hour it blew a fresh Gale from the Shore; it presently occur'd to me,
               that it was in vain to pretend to make a Raft with the Wind off Shore, and that it
               was my Business to be gone before the Tide of Flood began, otherwise I might not be
               able to reach the Shore at all: Accordingly I let my self down into the Water, and
               swam cross the Channel, which lay between the Ship and the Sands, and even that with
               Difficulty enough, partly with the Weight of the Things I had about me, and partly
               the Roughness of the Water, for the Wind rose very hastily, and before it was quite
               high Water, it blew a Storm.</p>
            <p>But I was gotten home to my little Tent, where I lay with all my Wealth about me very
               secure. It blew very hard all that Night, and in the Morning when I look'd out,
               behold no more Ship was to be seen; I was a little surpriz'd, but recover'd my self
               with this satisfactory Reflection, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> That I had lost no time, nor abated
               no Dilligence to get every thing out of her that could be useful to me, and that
               indeed there was little left in her that I <pb n="67"/> was
               able to bring away if I had had more time.</p>
            <p>I now gave over any more Thoughts of the Ship, or of any thing out of her, except
               what might drive on Shore from her Wreck, as indeed divers Pieces of her afterwards
               did; but those things were of small use to me.</p>
            <p>My Thoughts were now wholly employ'd about securing my self against either Savages,
               if any should appear, or wild Beasts, if any were in the Island; and I had many
               Thoughts of the Method how to do this, and what kind of Dwelling to make, whether I should make me a Cave in the Earth, or a Tent upon
               the Earth: And, in short, I resolv'd upon both, the Manner
               and Discription of which, it may not be improper to give an Account of.</p>
            <p>I sooon found the Place I was in was not for my Settlement, particularly because it
               was upon a low moorish Ground near the Sea, and I believ'd would not be wholsome, and
               more particularly because there was no fresh Water near it, so I resolv'd to find a
               more healthy and more convenient Spot of Ground.</p>
            <p>I consulted several Things in my Situation which I found would be proper for me, 1st.
               Health, and fresh Water I just now mention'd, 2dly. Shelter from the Heat of the Sun,
               3dly. Security from ravenous Creatures, whether Men or
               Beasts, 4thly. a View to the Sea, that if God sent any Ship in Sight, I might not
               lose any Advantage for my Deliverance, of which I was not
               willing to banish all my Expectation yet.</p>
            <p>In search of a Place proper for this, I found a little Plain on the Side of a rising
               Hill, whose Front towards this little Plain, was steep as a House-side, so that
               nothing could come down upon me from the Top; on the Side of this Rock <pb n="68"/> there was a hollow Place worn a little way in like the
               Entrance or Door of a Cave, but there was not really any Cave or Way into the Rock at
               all.</p>
            <p>On the Flat of the Green, just before this hollow Place, I resolv'd to pitch my Tent:
               This Plain was not above an Hundred Yards broad, and about twice as long, and lay
               like a Green before my Door, and at the End of it descended irregularly every Way
               down into the Low-grounds by the Sea-side. It was on the <hi rend="italic">N. N. W.</hi> Side of
               the Hill, so that I was shelter'd from the Heat every Day, till it came to a
                  <hi rend="italic">W.</hi> and by <hi rend="italic">S.</hi> Sun, or thereabouts, which in those Countries is
               near the Setting.</p>
            <p>Before I set up my Tent, I drew a half Circle before the hollow Place, which took in
               about Ten Yards in its <ref target="radius_" corresp="radius">Semi-diameter</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="radius" target="radius_" type="gloss">Radius</note> from the Rock, and Twenty Yards in its
               Diameter, from its Beginning and Ending.</p>
            <p>In this half Circle I pitch'd two Rows of strong Stakes, driving them into the Ground
               till they stood very firm like Piles, the biggest End being out of the Ground about
               Five Foot and a Half, and sharpen'd on the Top: The two Rows did not stand above Six
               Inches from one another.</p>
            <p>Then I took the Pieces of Cable which I had cut in the Ship, and I laid them in Rows
               one upon another, within the Circle, between these two Rows of Stakes, up to the Top,
               placing other Stakes in the In-side, leaning against them, about two Foot and a half
               high, like a Spurr to a Post, and this Fence was so strong, that neither Man or Beast
               could get into it or over it: This cost me a great deal of Time and Labour,
               especially to cut the Piles in the Woods, bring them to the Place, and drive them
               into the Earth.</p>
            <p>The Entrance into this Place I made to be not by a Door, but by a short Ladder to go
               over <pb n="69"/> the Top, which Ladder, when I was in, I
               lifted over after me, and so I was compleatly fenc'd in, and fortify'd, as I thought,
               from all the World, and consequently slept secure in the Night, which otherwise I could not have done, tho', as it appear'd afterward, there was no need of all this Caution from the
               Enemies that I apprehended Danger from.</p>
            <p>Into this Fence or Fortress, with infinite Labour, I carry'd
               all my Riches, all my Provisions, Ammunition and Stores, of which you have the
               Account above, and I made me a large Tent, which, to preserve me from the Rains that
               in one Part of the Year are very violent there, I made double, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> One
               smaller Tent within, and one larger Tent above it, and cover'd the uppermost with a
               large Tarpaulin which I had sav'd among the Sails.</p>
            <p>And now I lay no more for a while in the Bed which I had brought on Shore, but in a
                  Hammock, which was indeed a very good one, and belong'd
               to the Mate of the Ship.</p>
            <p>Into this Tent I brought all my Provisions, and every thing that would spoil by the
               Wet, and having thus enclos'd all my Goods, I made up the
               Entrance, which till now I had left open, and so pass'd and re-pass'd, as I said, by
               a short Ladder.</p>
            <p>When I had done this, I began to work my Way into the Rock, and bringing all the
               Earth and Stones that I dug down out thro' my Tent, I laid 'em up within my Fence in
               the Nature of a Terras, that so it rais'd the Ground within
               about a Foot and a Half; and thus I made me a Cave just behind my Tent, which serv'd
               me like a Cellar to my House.</p>
            <p>It cost me much Labour, and many Days, before all these
               Things were brought to Perfection, and therefore I must go back to some other Things
               which took up some of my Thoughts. At the same time it <pb n="70"/> happen'd after I had laid my Scheme for the setting up my Tent and making the Cave, that a Storm of Rain
               falling from a thick dark Cloud, a sudden Flash of Lightning happen'd, and after that
               a great Clap of Thunder, as is naturally the Effect of it; I was not so much
               surpris'd with the Lightning as I was with a Thought which
               darted into my Mind as swift as the Lightning it self: O my Powder! My very Heart
               sunk within me, when I thought, that at one Blast all my Powder might be destroy'd,
               on which, not my Defence only, but the providing me Food, as I thought, entirely
                  depended; I was nothing near so anxious about my own
               Danger, tho' had the Powder took fire, <ref target="irony_" corresp="irony">I had
                     never known who had hurt me</ref>. <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="irony" target="irony_" type="gloss">Had
                  the explosive gunpowder caught fire from the lightning, Crusoe would ironically
                  not have survived the explosion to have suffered harm at the hands of man or
                  beast.</note>
            </p>
            <p>Such Impression did this make upon me, that after the Storm was over, I laid aside
               all my Works, my Building, and Fortifying, and apply'd my self to make Bags and Boxes
               to separate the Powder, and keep it a little and a little in a Parcel, in hope, that
               whatever might come, it might not all take Fire at once, and to keep it so apart that
               it should not be possible to make one part fire another: I finish'd this Work in
               about a Fort night, and I think my Powder, which in all was about <ref target="pound_" corresp="pound">240 l.</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="pound" target="pound_"> type="gloss"&gt;240 pounds</note> weight was divided
               in not less than a Hundred Parcels; as to the Barrel that
               had been wet, I did not apprehend any Danger from that, so I plac'd it in my new
               Cave, which in my Fancy I call'd my Kitchin, and the rest I hid up and down in Holes
               among the Rocks, so that no wet might come to it, marking very carefully where I laid
               it.</p>
            <p>In the Interval of time while this was doing I went out once at least every Day with
               my Gun, as well to divert my self, as to see if I could kill any thing fit for Food,
               and as near as I could to acquaint <pb n="71"/> my self with what the Island produc'd. The first time I
               went out I presently discover'd that there were Goats in the Island, which was a
               great Satisfaction to me; but then it was attended with this Misfortune to me,
                  <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> That they were so shy, so subtile, and so swift of Foot, that it was
               the difficultest thing in the World to come at them: But I was not discourag'd at
               this, not doubting but I might now and then shoot one, as it soon happen'd, for after I had found their Haunts a little, I laid
               wait in this Manner for them: I observ'd if they saw me in the Valleys, tho' they
               were upon the Rocks, they would run away as in a terrible Fright; but if they were
               feeding in the Valleys, and I was upon the Rocks, they took no Notice of me, from
               whence I concluded, that by the Position of their Opticks, their Sight was so
               directed downward, that they did not readily see Objects
               that were above them; so afterward I took this Method, I always clim'd the Rocks
               first to get above them, and then had frequently a fair Mark. The first shot I made
               among these Creatures, I kill'd a She-Goat which had a little Kid by her which she
               gave Suck to, which griev'd me heartily; but when the Old one fell, the Kid stood
               stock still by her till I came and took her up, and not only so, but when I carry'd
               the Old one with me upon my Shoulders, the Kid follow'd me quite to my Enclosure,
               upon which I laid down the Dam, and took the Kid in my Arms, and carry'd it over my
               Pale, in hopes to have bred it up tame, but it would not eat, so I was forc'd to kill
               it and eat it my self; these two supply'd me with Flesh a great while, for I eat
               sparingly; and sav'd my Provisions (my Bread especially) as much as possibly I
               could.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="72"/>Having now fix'd my Habitation, I found it absolutely necessary to provide a Place to make a Fire in, and
               Fewel to burn; and what I did for that, as also how I enlarg'd my Cave, and what
               Conveniencies I made, I shall give a full Account of in its Place: But I must first
               give some little Account of my self, and of my Thoughts about Living, which it may
               well be suppos'd were not a few.</p>
            <p>I had a dismal Prospect of my Condition, for as I was not cast away upon that Island
               without being driven, as is said, by a violent Storm quite
               out of the Course of our intended Voyage, and a great Way, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> some
               Hundreds of Leagues out of the ordinary Course of the Trade of Mankind, I had great
               Reason to consider it as a Determination of Heaven, that in this desolate Place, and
               in this desolate Manner I should end my Life; the Tears would run plentifully down my
               Face when I made these Reflections, and sometimes I would expostulate with my self, Why Providence should thus compleatly
               ruine its Creatures, and render them so absolutely miserable, so without Help
               abandon'd, so entirely depress'd, that it could hardly be rational to be thankful for such a Life.</p>
            <p>But something always return'd swift upon me to check these Thoughts, and to reprove
               me; and particularly one Day walking with my Gun in my Hand by the Sea-side, I was
               very pensive upon the Subject of my present Condition, when Reason as it were
               expostulated with me t'other Way, thus: Well, you are in a desolate Condition 'tis
               true, but pray remember, Where are the rest of you? Did not you come Eleven of you
               into the Boat, where are the Ten? Why were not they sav'd and you lost? Why were you
               singled out? Is it better to be here or there, and then I pointed to the Sea? All <pb n="73"/> Evills are to be consider'd with the Good that
               is in them, and with what worse attends them.</p>
            <p>Then it occurr'd to me again, how well I was furnish'd for my Subsistence, and what
               would have been my Case if it had not happen'd, <hi rend="italic">Which was an Hundred Thousand to
                  one,</hi> that the Ship floated from the Place where she first struck and was
                  driven so near to the Shore that I had time to get all
               these Things out of her: What would have been my Case, if I had been to have liv'd in
               the Condition in which I at first came on Shore, without
               Necessaries of Life, or Necessaries to supply and procure them? Particularly said I
               aloud, (tho' to my self) what should I ha' done without a Gun, without Ammunition,
               without any Tools to make any thing, or to work with, without Clothes, Bedding, a
               Tent, or any manner of Covering, and that now I had all
               these to a Sufficient Quantity, and was in a fair way to provide my self in such a
               manner, as to live without my Gun when my Ammunition was
               spent; so that I had a tollerable View of subsisting without any Want as long as I
               liv'd; for I consider'd from the beginning how I would provide for the Accidents that might happen, and for the time that was to
               come, even not only after my Ammunition should be spent, but even after my Health or
               Strength should decay.</p>
            <p>I confess I had not entertain'd any Notion of my Ammunition being destroy'd at one
               Blast, I mean my Powder being blown up by Lightning, and this made the Thoughts of it
               so surprising to me when it lighten'd and thunder'd, as I observ'd just now.</p>
            <p>And now being to enter into a melancholy Relation of a Scene
               of silent Life, such perhaps as was never heard of in the World before, I shall take
               it from its Beginning, and continue it in its <pb n="74"/>
               Order. It was, by my Account, the 30th. of <hi rend="italic">Sept.</hi> when, in the Manner as
               above said, I first set Foot upon this horrid Island, when the Sun being, to us, in
               its Autumnal Equinox, was almost just over my Head, for I reckon'd my self, by
               Observation, to be in the Latitude of <ref target="parallel_" corresp="parallel">9
                  Degrees 22 Minutes North of the Line</ref>. <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="parallel" target="parallel_" type="gloss">The 9th parallel north
                  intersects both Colombia and Venezuela, from which we can estimate that Crusoe's
                  island is somewhere off the northern coast of South America.</note>
            </p>
            <p>After I had been there about Ten or Twelve Days, it came into my Thoughts, that I
               should lose my Reckoning of Time for want of Books and Pen and Ink, and should even
               forget the Sabbath Days from the working Days; but to
               prevent this I cut it with my Knife upon a large Post, in Captital Letters, and
               making it into a great Cross I set it up on the Shore where I first landed, viz.
                  <hi rend="italic">I came on Shore here on the</hi> 30<hi rend="italic">th of</hi> Sept. 1659. Upon the Sides
               of this square Post I cut every Day a Notch with my Knife, and every seventh Notch
               was as long again as the rest, and every first Day of the Month as long again as that
               long one, and thus I kept my Kalander, or weekly, monthly,
               and yearly reckoning of Time.</p>
            <p>In the next place we are to observe, that among the many things which I brought out
               of the Ship in the several Voyages, which, as above mention'd, I made to it, I got
               several things of less Value, but not all less useful to me, which I omitted setting down before; as in particular, Pens, Ink, and Paper,
               several Parcels in the Captain's, Mate's, Gunner's, and Carpenter's keeping, three or
               four Compasses, some Mathematical Instruments, Dials, Perspectives, Charts, and Books
               of Navigation, all which I huddel'd together, whether I might want them or no; also I
               found three very good Bibles which came to me in my Cargo from <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> and which I had pack'd up among my things;
               some <hi rend="italic">Portugueze</hi> Books also, and among them two <pb n="75"/> or three <ref target="popish_" corresp="popish">Popish</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="popish" target="popish_" type="gloss">Roman Catholic</note> Prayer-Books, and several
               other Books, all which I carefully secur'd. And I must not forget, that we had in the
               Ship a Dog and two Cats, of whose eminent History I may have occasion to say
               something in its place; for I carry'd both the Cats with me, and as for the Dog, he
               jump'd out of the Ship of himself and swam on Shore to me the Day after I went on
               Shore with my first Cargo, and was a trusty Servant to me
               many Years; I wanted nothing that he could fetch me, nor any Company that he could
               make up to me, I only wanted to have him talk to me, but that would not do. As I
               observ'd before, I found Pen, Ink and Paper, and I <ref target="husband_" corresp="husband">husbanded</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="husband" target="husband_" type="gloss">Economized or eked out, so they
                  would last</note> them to the utmost, and I shall shew, that while my Ink lasted,
               I kept things very exact, but after that was gone I could not, for I could not make
               any Ink by any Means that I could devise.</p>
            <p>And this put me in mind that I wanted many things, notwithstanding all that I had
               amass'd together, and of these, this of Ink was one, as also
               Spade, Pick-Axe, and Shovel to dig or remove the Earth, Needles, Pins, and Thread; as
               for Linnen, I soon learn'd to want that without much Difficulty.</p>
            <p>This want of Tools made every Work I did go on heavily, and it was near a whole Year
               before I had entirely finish'd my little Pale or surrounded Habitation: The Piles or
               Stakes, which were as heavy as I could well lift, were a long time in cutting and preparing in the Woods, and more by far in bringing
               home, so that I spent some times two Days in cuttting and bringing home one of those
               Posts, and a third Day in driving it into the Ground; for which Purpose I got a heavy
               Piece of Wood at first, but at last bethought my self of one of the Iron Crows, which
               however tho' I found it, yet <pb n="76"/> it made driving
               those Posts or Piles very laborious and tedious Work.</p>
            <p>But what need I ha' been concern'd at the Tediousness of any
               thing I had to do, seeing I had time enough to do it in, nor had I any other Employment if that had been over, at least, that I could
               foresee, except the ranging the Island to seek for Food, which I did more or less
               every Day.</p>
            <p>I now began to consider seriously my Condition, and the Circumstance I was reduc'd
               to, and I drew up the State of my Affairs in Writing, not so much to leave them to
               any that were to come after me, for I was like to have but few Heirs, as to deliver my Thoughts from daily poring upon them, and
               afflicting my Mind; and as my Reason began now to master my Despondency, I began to
                  comfort my self as well as I could, and to set the good
               against the Evil, that I might have something to distinguish my Case from worse, and
               I stated it very impartially, like Debtor and Creditor, the Comforts I enjoy'd,
               against the Miseries I suffer'd, Thus, </p>
            
                  <floatingText>
                     <body>
            
                        <table rows="4" cols="2">
                         
                           <row>
                                        <cell role="label">Evil.</cell>
                                        <cell role="label">Good.</cell>
                              </row>
                          <row> <cell>I am cast upon a horrible desolate Island,
                              void of all hope of Recovery.</cell>
                           <cell>But I am alive, and not drown'd as all my Ship's Company was.</cell>
                              </row>
                          <row>
                                        <cell>I am singl'd out and separated, as it were,
                             from all the World to be miserable.</cell>
                              <cell>But I am singl'd out too from all the Ship's Crew to be spar'd from
                                 Death; and he that miraculously sav'd me from Death, can deliver me from this Condition.</cell>
                                    </row>
                           <row>
                                        <cell>I am divided from Mankind, a Solitaire, one
                                 banish'd from humane Society.</cell>
                               <cell>But I am not starv'd and perishing on a barren Place, affording no
                              Sustenance.</cell>
                           </row>
                                </table> </body>
                  </floatingText>
                              <pb n="77"/>
            <floatingText>
               <body>
            <table rows="3" cols="2">
               <row>
                                        <cell>I have not Clothes to cover me.</cell>
               <cell>But I am in a hot Climate, where if I had Clothes I could hardly
                  wear them.</cell>
                                    </row>
                           <row>
                                        <cell>I am without any Defence or Means to resist
                              any Violence of Man or Beast.</cell> <cell>But I am cast on an Island, where I see no
                                 wild Beasts to hurt me, as I saw on the Coast of <hi rend="italic">Africa</hi>: And
                                 what if I had been Shipwreck'd there?</cell>
                                    </row>
                          <row> <cell>I have no Soul to speak to, or relieve me.</cell>                 
                     <cell>But God wonderfully sent the Ship in near enough to the Shore, that I
                              have gotten out so many necessary things as
                              will either supply my Wants, or enable me to supply my self even as
                              long as I live.</cell>
                                    </row>
                        </table>
                     
               </body>
            </floatingText>
            
            <p>Upon the whole, here was an undoubted Testimony, that there
               was scarce any Condition in the World so miserable, but there was something
                     <hi rend="italic">Negative</hi> or something <hi rend="italic">Positiv</hi> to be
               thankful for in it; and let this stand as a Direction from the Experience of the most miserable of all Conditions in this World,
               that we may always find in it something to comfort our selves from, and to set in the
                  Description of Good and Evil, on the Credit Side of the
               Accompt.</p>
            <p>Having now brought my Mind a little to relish my Condition, and given over looking
               out to Sea to see if I could spy a Ship, I say, giving over these things, I began to
               apply my self to accommodate my way of Living, and to make
               things as easy to me as I could.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="78"/>I have already describ'd my Habitation, which
               was a Tent under the Side of a Rock, surrounded with a strong Pale of Posts and
               Cables, but I might now rather call it a Wall, for I rais'd a kind of Wall up against
               it of Turfs, about two Foot thick on the Out-side, and after some time, I think it
               was a Year and Half, I rais'd Rafters from it leaning to the
               Rock, and thatch'd or cover'd it with Bows of Trees, and such things as I could get
               to keep out the Rain, which I found at some times of the Year very violent.</p>
            <p>I have already observ'd how I brought all my Goods into this Pale, and into the Cave
               which I had made behind me: But I must observe too, that at first this was a confus'd
               Heap of Goods, which as they lay in no Order, so they took up all my Place, I had no
               room to turn my self; so I set my self to enlarge my Cave and Works farther into the Earth, for it was a loose sandy Rock,
               which yielded easily to the Labour I bestow'd on it; and so when I found I was pretty
               safe as to Beasts of Prey, I work'd side-ways to the Right Hand into the Rock, and
               then turning to the Right again, work'd quite out and made me a Door to come out, on
               the Out-side of my Pale or Fortification.</p>
            <p>This gave me not only Egress and Regress, as it were a back Way to my Tent and to my
               Store-house, but gave me room to stow my Goods.</p>
            <p>And now I began to apply my self to make such necessary things as I found I most
               wanted, as particularly a Chair and a Table, for without
               these I was not able to enjoy the few Comforts I had in the World, I could not write,
               or eat, or do several things with so much Pleasure without a Table.</p>
            <p>So I went to work; and here I must needs observe, that as
               Reason is the Substance and Original <pb n="79"/> of the Mathematicks, so by stating and squaring every thing by Reason, and by making the most rational
               Judgment of things, every Man may be in time Master of every mechanick Art. I had
               never handled a Tool in my Life, and yet in time by Labour, Application, and
               Contrivance, I found at last that I wanted nothing but I could have made it,
               especially if I had had Tools; however I made abundance of things, even without
               Tools, and some with no more Tools than an <ref target="adze_" corresp="adze">Adze</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="adze" target="adze_" type="gloss">A tool like a pickax, with a blade at right angles to the
                  handle.</note> and a Hatchet, which perhaps were never made that way before, and
               that with infinite Labour: For Example, If I wanted a Board, I had no other Way but
               to cut down a Tree, set it on an Edge before me, and hew it flat on either Side with
               my Axe, till I had brought it to be thin as a Plank, and then dubb it smooth with my
               Adze. It is true, by this Method I could make but one Board out of a whole Tree, but
               this I had no Remedy for but Patience, any more than I had for the prodigious deal of
               Time and Labour which it took me up to make a Plank or Board: But my Time or Labour
               was little worth, and so it was as well employ'd one way as another.</p>
            <p>However, I made me a Table and a Chair, as I observ'd above, in the first Place, and
               this I did out of the short Pieces of Boards that I brought on my Raft from the Ship:
               But when I had wrought out some Boards, as above, I made large Shelves of the Breadth
               of a Foot and Half one over another, all along one Side of my Cave, to lay all my
               Tools, Nails, and Iron-work, and in a Word, to separate every thing at large in their
               Places, that I might come easily at them; I knock'd Pieces into the Wall of the Rock
               to hang my Guns and all things that would hang up.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="80"/>So that had my Cave been to be seen, it look'd
               like a general <ref target="magazine2_" corresp="magazine2">Magazine</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="magazine2" target="magazine2_" type="gloss">Storehouse</note> of all Necessary things, and I had every thing so
               ready at my Hand, that it was a grear Pleasure to me to see all my Goods in such
               Order, and especially to find my Stock of all Necessaries so great.</p>
            <p>And now it was when I began to keep a Journal of every Days
               Employment, for indeed at first I was in too much Hurry, and not only Hurry as to
               Labour, but in too much Discomposure of Mind, and my Journal would ha' been full of
               many dull things: For Example, I must have said thus. <hi rend="italic">Sept.</hi> the 30th. After
               I got to Shore and had escap'd drowning, instead of being thankful to God for my
               Deliverance, having first vomited with the great Quantity of salt Water which was
               gotten into my Stomach, and recovering my self a little, I ran about the Shore,
               wringing my Hands and beating my Head and Face, exclaiming
               at my Misery, and crying out, I was undone, undone, till tyr'd and faint I was forc'd
               to lye down on the Ground to repose, but durst not sleep for fear of being devour'd.</p>
            <p>Some Days after this, and after I had been on board the Ship, and got all that I
               could out of her, yet I could not forbear getting up to the Top of a little Mountain
               and looking out to Sea in hopes of seeing a Ship, then fancy at a vast Distance I spy'd a Sail, please my self with the Hopes of it,
               and then after looking steadily till I was almost blind,
               lose it quite, and sit down and weep like a Child, and thus encrease my Misery by my
               Folly.</p>
            <p>But having gotten over these things in some Measure, and
               having settled my houshold Stuff and Habitation, made me a
               Table and a Chair, and all as handsome about me as I could, I began to keep <pb n="81"/> my Journal, of which I shall here give you the
               Copy (tho' in it will be told all these Particulars over again) as long as it lasted,
               for having no more Ink I was forc'd to leave it off.</p>
            <p>The <hi rend="italic">JOURNAL.</hi>
            </p>
           
               <head> <ref target="Audio7_" corresp="Audio7">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio7" target="Audio7_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_07_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">September</hi> 30, 1659. I poor miserable <hi rend="italic">Robinson Crusoe,</hi> being
               shipwreck'd, during a dreadful Storm, in the offing, came on Shore on this dismal
               unfortunate Island, which I call'd <hi rend="italic">the Island of Despair,</hi> all the rest of the Ship's Company being drown'd, and my self almost
               dead.</p>
            <p>All the rest of that Day I spent in afflicting my self at the dismal Circumstances I
               was brought to, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> I had neither Food, House, Clothes, Weapon, or Place to
               fly to, and in Despair of any Relief, saw nothing but Death before me, either that I
               should be devour'd by wild Beasts, murther'd by Savages, or starv'd to Death for Want
               of Food. At the Approach of Night, I slept in a Tree for fear of wild Creatures, but
               slept soundly tho' it rain'd all Night.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">October</hi> 1. In the Morning I saw to my great Surprise the Ship had floated with the high Tide, and was driven on Shore again much
               nearer the Island, which as it was some Comfort on one hand, for seeing her sit
               upright, and not broken to Pieces, I hop'd, if the Wind
               abated, I might get on board, and get some Food and Necessaries out of her for my
               Relief; so on the other hand, it renew'd my Grief at the Loss of my Comrades, who I
                  imagin'd if we had all staid on board might have sav'd
               the Ship, or at least that they would not have been all drown'd as they were; and
               that had the Men been sav'd, we might perhaps have built us a Boat out of the Ruins
               of the Ship, to have carried <pb n="82"/> us to some other Part of the World. I spent great Part
               of this Day in perplexing my self on these things; but at length seeing the Ship
               almost dry, I went upon the Sand as near as I could, and then swam on board; this Day
               also it continu'd raining, tho' with no Wind at all.</p>
            <p>From the 1st of <hi rend="italic">October,</hi> to the 24th. All these Days entirely spent in many
               several Voyages to get all I could out of the Ship, which I brought on Shore, every
               Tide of Flood, upon Rafts. Much Rain also in these Days, tho' with some Intervals of
               fair Weather: But, it seems, this was the rainy Season.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Oct.</hi> 20. I <ref target="overset_" corresp="overset">overset</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="overset" target="overset_" type="gloss">Overturned</note> my Raft, and all the Goods I had got upon it, but being in <ref target="shoal_" corresp="shoal">shoal</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="shoal" target="shoal_" type="gloss">Shallow</note> Water, and the things
               being chiefly heavy, I recover'd many of them when the Tide was out.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Oct.</hi> 25. It rain'd all Night and all Day, with some Gusts of Wind, during
               which time the Ship broke in Pieces, the Wind blowing a little harder than before,
               and was no more to be seen, except the Wreck of her, and that only at low Water. I
               spent this Day in covering and securing the Goods which I had sav'd, that the Rain
               might not spoil them.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Oct.</hi> 26. I walk'd about the Shore almost all Day to find out a place to fix
               my Habitation, greatly concern'd to secure my self from an Attack in the Night,
               either from wild Beasts or Men. Towards Night I fix'd upon a proper Place under a
               Rock, and mark'd out a Semi-Circle for my Encampment, which
               I resolv'd to strengthen with a Work, Wall, or Fortification made of double Piles,
               lin'd within with Cables, and without with Turf.</p>
            <p>From the 26th. to the 30th. I work'd very hard in carrying all my Goods to my new
               Habitation, <pb n="83"/> tho' some Part of the time it
               rain'd exceeding hard</p>
            <p>The 31st. in the Morning I went out into the Island with my Gun to see for some Food,
               and discover the Country, when I kill'd a She-Goat, and her
               Kid follow'd me home, which I afterwards kill'd also because it would not feed.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">November</hi> 1. I set up my Tent under a Rock, and lay there for the first
               Night, making it as large as I could with Stakes driven in to swing my Hammock upon.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Nov.</hi> 2. I set up all my Chests and Boards, and the Pieces of Timber which
               made my Rafts, and with them form'd a Fence round me, a little within the Place I had mark'd out for my Fortification.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Nov.</hi> 3. I went out with my Gun and kill'd two Fowls like Ducks, which were
               very good Food. In the Afternoon went to work to make me a Table.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Nov.</hi> 4. This Morning I began to order my times of Work, of going out with my
               Gun, time of Sleep, and time of Diversion, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> Every Morning I walk'd out
               with my Gun for two or three Hours if it did not rain, then employ'd my self to work
               till about Eleven a-Clock, then eat what I had to live on, and from Twelve to Two I
               lay down to sleep, the Weather being excessive hot, and then in the Evening to work
               again: The working Part of this Day and of the next were wholly employ'd in making my
               Table, for I was yet but a very sorry Workman, tho' Time and Necessity made me a
               compleat natural Mechanick soon after, as I believe it would do any one else.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Nov.</hi> 5. This Day went abroad with my Gun and my Dog, and kill'd a wild Cat,
               her Skin pretty soft, but her Flesh good for nothing: Every <pb n="84"/> Creature I kill'd I took off the Skins and preserv'd
               them: Coming back by the Sea Shore, I saw many Sorts of Sea Fowls which I did not
               understand, but was surpris'd and almost frighted with two or three Seals, which,
               while I was gazing at, not well knowing what they were, got into the Sea and escap'd
               me for that time.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Nov.</hi> 6. After my Morning Walk I went to work with my Table again, and
               finish'd it, tho' not to my liking; nor was it long before I learn'd to mend it.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Nov.</hi> 7. Now it began to be settled fair Weather. The 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th,
               and Part of the 12th. (for the 11th. was Sunday) I took wholly up to make me a Chair,
               and with much ado brought it to a tolerable Shape, but never to please me, and even
               in the making I pull'd it in Pieces several times.
                  <hi rend="italic">Note,</hi> I soon neglected my keeping Sundays, for omitting my Mark for them
               on my Post, I forgot which was which.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Nov.</hi> 13. This Day it rain'd, which refresh'd me exceedingly, and cool'd the
               Earth, but it was accompany'd with terrible Thunder and
               Lightning, which frighted me dreadfully for fear of my Powder; as soon as it was over, I resolv'd to separate my Stock of Powder into as many
               little Parcels as possible, that it might not be in Danger.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Nov.</hi> 14, 15, 16. These three Days I spent in making little square Chests or
               Boxes, which might hold about a Pound or two Pound, at most, of Powder, and so
               putting the Powder in, I stow'd it in Places as secure and remote from one another as
               possible. On one of these three Days I kill'd a large Bird that was good to eat, but
               I know not what to call it.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Nov.</hi> 17. This Day I began to dig behind my Tent into the Rock to make room
               for my farther <pb n="85"/> Conveniency: <hi rend="italic">Note,</hi> Two
               Things I wanted exceedingly for this Work, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> A
               Pick-axe, a Shovel, and a Wheel-barrow or Basket, so I desisted from my Work, and
               began to consider how to supply that Want and make me some Tools; as for a Pick-axe,
               I made use of the Iron Crows, which were proper enough, tho' heavy; but the next
               thing was a Shovel or Spade, this was so absolutely
               necessary, that indeed I could do nothing effectually without it, but what kind of
               one to make I knew not.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Nov.</hi> 18. The next Day in searching the Woods I found a Tree of that Wood, or
               like it, which, in the <hi rend="italic">Brasils</hi> they call the <ref target="ironwood_" corresp="ironwood">Iron Tree,</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="ironwood" target="ironwood_" type="gloss">The Brazil Ironwood, sometimes
                  called the Leopard Tree, has yellow flowers and extremely hard, spotted
                  wood.</note> for its exceeding Hardness, of this, with
               great Labour and almost spoiling my Axe, I cut a Piece, and brought it home too with
               Difficulty enough, for it was exceeding heavy.</p>
            <p>The excessive Hardness of the Wood, and having no other Way, made me a long while
               upon this Machine, for I work'd it effectually by little and little into the Form of
               a Shovel or Spade, the Handle exactly shap'd like ours in <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> only that
               the broad Part having no Iron shod upon it at Bottom, it
               would not last me so long, however it serv'd well enough for the uses which I had occasion
               to put it to; but never was a Shovel, I believe, made after that Fashion, or so long
               a making.</p>
            <p>I was still deficient, for I wanted a Basket or a Wheel-barrow, a Basket I could not
               make by any Means, having no such things as Twigs that would bend to make Wicker
               Ware, at least none yet found out; and as to a Wheel-barrow, I fancy'd I could make
               all but the Wheel, but that I had no Notion of, neither did I know how to go about
               it; besides I had no possible Way to make the Iron <ref target="gudgeon_" corresp="gudgeon">Gudgeons</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="gudgeon" target="gudgeon_" type="gloss">The cylindrical shaft running
                  through the center of a wheel, upon which it pivots.</note>
               <pb n="86"/> for the Spindle or Axis of the Wheel to run in,
               so I gave it over, and so for carrying away the Earth which I dug out of the Cave, I
               made me a Thing like a <ref target="hodd_" corresp="hodd">Hodd</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="hodd" target="hodd_" type="gloss">An open
                  receptacle for carrying mortar, bricks, stones, or coal.</note>, which the
               Labourers carry Morter in, when they serve the Bricklayers.</p>
            <p>This was not so difficult to me as the making the Shovel; and yet this, and the
               Shovel, and the Attempt which I made in vain, to make a Wheel-Barrow, took me up no
               less than four Days, I mean always, excepting my Morning Walk with my Gun, which I
               seldom fail'd, and very seldom fail'd also bringing Home something fit to eat.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Nov.</hi> 23. My other Work having now stood still, because of my making these
               Tools; when they were finish'd, I went on, and working every Day, as my Strength and
               Time allow'd, I spent eighteen Days entirely in widening and
               deepening my Cave, that it might hold my Goods commodiously.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Note,</hi> During all this Time, I work'd to make this Room or Cave spacious
               enough to accommodate me as a Warehouse or Magazin, a
               Kitchen, a Dining-room, and a Cellar; as for my Lodging, I kept to the Tent, except
               that some Times in the wet Season of the Year, it rain'd so hard, that I could not
               keep my self dry, which caused me afterwards to cover all my
               Place within my Pale with long Poles in the Form of Rafters leaning against the Rock,
               and load them with Flaggs and large Leaves of Trees like a Thatch.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">December</hi> 10th, I began now to think my Cave or Vault finished, when on a
               Sudden, (it seems I had made it too large) a great Quantity of Earth fell down from
               the Top and one Side, so much, that in short it frighted me, and not without Reason too; for if I had been under it I had never wanted a
               Grave-Digger: Upon this Disaster I had <pb n="87"/> a great
               deal of Work to do over again; for I had the loose Earth to carry out; and which was
               of more Importance, I had the Seiling to prop up, so that I might be sure no more
               would come down.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Dec.</hi> 11. This Day I went to Work with it accordingly, and got two Shores or Posts pitch'd upright to the Top, with two Pieces of
               Boards a-cross over each Post, this I finish'd the next Day; and setting more Posts
               up with Boards, in about a Week more I had the Roof secur'd; and the Posts standing
               in Rows, serv'd me for Partitions to part of my House.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Dec.</hi> 17. From this Day to the Twentieth I plac'd Shelves, and knock'd up
               Nails on the Posts to hang every Thing up that could be hung up, and now I began to
               be in some Order within Doors.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Dec.</hi> 20. Now I carry'd every Thing into the Cave, and began to furnish my
               House, and set up some Pieces of Boards, like a Dresser, to order my Victuals upon,
               but Boards began to be very scarce with me; also I made me another Table.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Dec.</hi> 24. Much Rain all Night and all Day, no stirring out.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Dec.</hi> 25. Rain all Day.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Dec.</hi> 26. No Rain, and the Earth much cooler than before, and pleasanter.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Dec.</hi> 27. Kill'd a young Goat, and lam'd another so
               as that I catch'd it, and led it Home in a String; when I had it Home, I bound and
                  splinter'd up its Leg which was broke, <hi rend="italic">N. B.</hi> I
               took such Care of it, that it liv'd, and the Leg grew well, and as strong as ever;
               but by my nursing it so long it grew tame, and fed upon the
                  little Green at my Door, and would not go away: This was
               the first Time that I entertain'd a Thought of breeding up some tame Creatures, <pb n="88"/> that I might have Food when my Powder and Shot
               was all spent.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Dec.</hi> 28, 29, 30. Great Heats and no Breeze; so that there was no Stirring
               abroad, except in the Evening for Food; this Time I spent in putting all my Things in
               Order within Doors.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">January</hi> 1. Very hot still, but I went abroad early
               and late with my Gun, and lay still in the Middle of the Day; this Evening going
               farther into the Valleys which lay towards the Center of the Island, I found there
               was plenty of Goats, tho' exceeding shy and hard to come at, however I resolv'd to
               try if I could not bring my Dog to hunt them down.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Jan.</hi> 2. Accordingly, the next Day, I went out with my Dog, and set him upon
               the Goats; but I was mistaken, for they all fac'd about upon the Dog, and he knew his
               Danger too well, for he would not come near them.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Jan.</hi> 3. I began my Fence or Wall; which being still
                  <ref target="jealous_" corresp="jealous">jealous</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="jealous" target="jealous_" type="gloss">Fearful, apprehensive, or wary.</note> of my being attack'd by some Body, I resolv'd to make very thick and strong.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">N. B.</hi> This Wall being describ'd before, I purposely omit what was said in
               the Journal; it is sufficient to observe, that I was no less
               Time than from the <hi rend="italic">3</hi>d of <hi rend="italic">January</hi> to the <hi rend="italic">14</hi>th of
                  <hi rend="italic">April,</hi> working, finishing, and perfecting this Wall, tho' it was no more
               than about <hi rend="italic">24</hi> Yards in Length, being a half Circle from one Place in the
               Rock to another Place about eight Yards from it, the Door of the Cave being in the
               Center behind it.</p>
            <p>All this Time I work'd very hard, the Rains hindering me many Days, nay sometimes
               Weeks together; but I thought I should never be perfectly
               secure 'till this Wall was finish'd; and it is <pb n="89"/>
               scarce credible what inexpressible Labour every Thing was done with, especially the
               bringing Piles out of the Woods, and driving them into the Ground, for I made them
               much bigger than I need to have done.</p>
            <p>When this Wall was finished, and the Out-side double fenc'd with a Turff-Wall rais'd
               up close to it, I perswaded my self, that if any People were to come on Shore there,
               they would not perceive any Thing like a Habitation; and it was very well I did so,
               as may be observ'd hereafter upon a very remarkable Occasion.</p>
            <p>During this Time, I made my Rounds in the Woods for Game every Day when the Rain
                  admitted me, and made frequent Discoveries in these Walks
               of something or other to my Advantage; particularly I found a Kind of wild Pidgeons,
               who built not as Wood Pidgeons in a Tree, but rather as House Pidgeons, in the Holes
               of the Rocks; and taking some young ones, I endeavoured to bread them up tame, and
               did so; but when they grew older they flew all away, which perhaps was at first for
               Want of feeding them, for I had nothing to give them;
               however I frequently found their Nests, and got their young ones, which were very
               good Meat.</p>
            <p>And now, in the managing my houshold Affairs, I found my self wanting in many Things,
               which I thought at first it was impossible for me to make, as indeed as to some of
               them it was; <hi rend="italic">for Instance,</hi> I could never make a Cask to be <ref target="hoop_" corresp="hoop">hooped</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="hoop" target="hoop_" type="gloss">A typical wooden barrel, consisting of
                  vertical wooden staves bound with lateral metal hoops.</note>, I had a small <ref target="runlet2_" corresp="runlet2">Runlet</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="runlet2" target="runlet2_" type="gloss">A
                  roundlet, or, in wine-measure, a barrel holding about 48 gallons.</note> or two,
                  <hi rend="italic">as I observed before,</hi> but I cou'd never arrive to the Capacity of making
               one by them, tho' I spent many Weeks about it; I could neither put in the Heads, or
               joint the <ref target="staves_" corresp="staves">Staves</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="staves" target="staves_" type="gloss">Wooden planks from which barrels are made.</note> so true to one another, as to
               make them hold Water, so I gave that also over.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="90"/>In the next Place, I was at a great Loss for
               Candle; so that as soon as ever it was dark, which was generally by Seven-a-Clock, I
               was oblig'd to go to Bed: I remembred the Lump of Bees-wax with which I made Candles
               in my <hi rend="italic">African</hi> Adventure, but I had none of that
               now; the only Remedy I had was, that when I had kill'd a
               Goat, I sav'd the Tallow, and with a little Dish made of Clay, which I bak'd in the
               Sun, to which I added a Wick of some Oakum, I made me a Lamp; and this gave me Light,
               tho' not a clear steady Light like a Candle; in the Middle of all my Labours it
               happen'd, that rumaging my Things, I found a little Bag, which, as I hinted before,
               had been fill'd with Corn for the feeding of Poultry, not for this Voyage, but
               before, as I suppose, when the Ship came from <hi rend="italic">Lisbon,</hi> what little Remainder
               of Corn had been in the Bag, was all devour'd with the Rats, and I saw nothing in the
               Bag but Husks and Dust; and being willing to have the Bag for some other Use, I think
               it was to put Powder in, when I divided it for Fear of the Lightning, or some such
               Use, I shook the Husks of Corn out of it on one Side of my Fortification under the
               Rock.</p>
            <p>It was a little before the great Rains, just now mention'd, that I threw this Stuff
               away, taking no Notice of any Thing, and not so much as remembring that I had thrown any Thing there; when about a Month after, or thereabout, I
               saw some few Stalks of something green, shooting out of the Ground, which I fancy'd
               might be some Plant I had not seen, but I was surpriz'd and perfectly astonish'd, when, after a little longer Time, I saw about ten or twelve Ears come out, which were perfect green
               Barley of the same Kind as our <hi rend="italic">European,</hi> nay, as
               our <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Barley.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="91"/>It is impossible to express the Astonishment and
               Confusion of my Thoughts on this Occasion; I had hitherto acted upon no religious
               Foundation at all, indeed I had very few Notions of Religion in my Head, or had
               entertain'd any Sense of any Thing that had befallen me, otherwise than as a Chance,
               or, as we lightly say, what pleases God; without so much as enquiring into the End of
               Providence in these Things, or his Order in governing Events
               in the World: But after I saw Barley grow there, in a
               Climate which I know was not proper for Corn, and especially that I knew not how it
               came there, it startl'd me strangely, and I began to suggest, that God had
               miraculously caus'd this Grain to grow without any Help of Seed sown, and that it was
               so directed purely for my Sustenance, on that wild miserable Place.</p>
            <p>This touch'd my Heart a little, and brought Tears out of my Eyes, and I began to
               bless my self, that such a Prodigy of Nature should happen
               upon my Account; and this was the more strange to me, because I saw near it still all
               along by the Side of the Rock, some other straggling Stalks, which prov'd to be
               Stalks of Ryce, and which I knew, because I had seen it grow in <hi rend="italic">Africa</hi> when
               I was ashore there.</p>
            <p>I not only thought these the pure Productions of Providence for my Support, but not
               doubting, but that there was more in the Place, I went all over that Part of the
               Island, where I had been before, peering in every Corner, and under every Rock, to
               see for more of it, but I could not find any; at last it occur'd to my Thoughts, that
               I had shook a Bag of <ref target="chicken_" corresp="chicken">Chickens
                  Meat</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="chicken" target="chicken_" type="gloss">Chicken's food; in this case, barley (referred to here sometimes as
                  corn), which Crusoe realizes must have germinated and sprouted.</note> out in that
               Place, and then the Wonder began to cease; and I must confess, my religious
               Thankfulness to God's Providence began to abate too upon the
                  Discovering that all this was nothing but what was <pb n="92"/> common; tho' I ought to have been as thankful
               for so strange and unforseen Providence, as if it had been miraculous; for it was
               really the Work of Providence as to me, that should order or appoint, that 10 or 12
               Grains of Corn should remuin unspoil'd, (when the Rats had
               destroy'd all the rest,) as if it had been dropt from Heaven; as also, that I should
               throw it out in that particular Place, where it being in the Shade of a high Rock, it
               sprang up immediately; whereas, if I had thrown it anywhere else, at that Time, it
               had been burnt up and destroy'd.</p>
            <p>I carefully sav'd the Ears of this Corn you may be sure in their Season, which was
               about the End of <hi rend="italic">June</hi>; and laying up every Corn, I resolv'd to sow them all
               again, hoping in Time to have some Quantity sufficient to supply me with Bread; But
               it was not till the 4th Year that I could allow my self the least Grain of this Corn
               to eat, and even then but sparingly, as I shall say afterwards in its Order; for I lost all that I sow'd the first Season, by not
               observing the proper Time; for I sow'd it just before the dry Season, so that it
               never came up at all, at least, not as it would ha' done: <ref target="place_" corresp="place">Of which in its Place.</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="place" target="place_" type="gloss">Crusoe will describe this predicament
                  at greater length farther along in the narrative (i.e. "More about this
                  later.")</note>
            </p>
            <p>Besides this Barley, there was, as above, 20 or 30 Stalks of Ryce, which I preserv'd
               with the same Care, and whose Use was of the same Kind or to the same Purpose,
                  (<hi rend="italic">viz.</hi>) to make me Bread, or rather Food; for I found Ways to cook it up
                  without baking, tho' I did that also after some Time. But
               to return to my Journal,</p>
            <p>I work'd excessive hard these three or four Months to get my Wall done; and the 14th
               of <hi rend="italic">April</hi> I closed it up, contriving to go into it, not by a Door, but over
               the Wall by a Ladder, that <pb n="93"/> there might be no
               Sign in the Out-side of my Habitation.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">April</hi> 16. I finish'd the Ladder, so I went up with the Ladder to the Top,
               and then pull'd it up after me, and let it down in the In-side: This was a compleat
               Enclosure to me; for within I had Room enough, and nothing could come at me from
               without, unless it could first mount my Wall.</p>
            <p>The very next Day after this Wall was finish'd, I had almost had all my Labour
               overthrown at once, and my self kill'd, the Case was thus, As I was busy in the
               Inside of it, behind my Tent, just in the Entrance into my Cave, I was terribly
               frighted with a most dreadful surprising Thing indeed; for
               all on a sudden I found the Earth come crumbling down from the Roof of my Cave, and
               from the Edge of the Hill over my Head, and two of the Posts I had set up in the Cave
               crack'd in a frightful Manner; I was heartily scar'd, but thought nothing of what was
               really the Cause, only thinking that the Top of my Cave was falling in, as some of it
               had done before; and for Fear I shou'd be bury'd in it, I run foreward to my Ladder,
               and not thinking my self safe there neither, I got over my Wall for Fear of the
               Pieces of the Hill which I expected might roll down upon me: I was no sooner stepp'd down upon the firm Ground, but I plainly saw it was a terrible Earthquake, for the Ground I stood
               on shook three Times at about eight Minutes Distance, with
               three such Shocks, as would have overturn'd the strongest Building that could be
               suppos'd to have stood on the Earth, and a great Piece of the Top of a Rock, which
               stood about half a Mile from me next the Sea, fell down with
               such a terrible Noise, as I never heard in all my Life, I perceiv'd also, the very
               Sea was put into violent Motion by it; and I believe the <pb n="94"/> Shocks were <ref target="shocks_" corresp="shocks">stronger under the Water than on the Island</ref>. <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="shocks" target="shocks_" type="gloss">An
                  astonishingly accurate observation, given that Defoe had probably never
                  experienced an earthquake himself, and that plate tectonic theory was only
                  introduced in the 20th century.</note>
            </p>
            <p>I was so amaz'd with the Thing it self, having never felt the like, or discours'd
               with any one that had, that I was like one dead or stupify'd; and the Motion of the
               Earth made my Stomach sick like one that was toss'd at Sea; but the Noise of the
               falling of the Rock awak'd me as it were, and rousing me from the stupify'd Condition
               I was in, fill'd me with Horror, and I thought of nothing then but the Hill falling
               upon my Tent and all my houshold Goods, and burying all at once; and this sunk my
               very Soul within me a second Time.</p>
            <p>After the third Shock was over, and I felt no more for some Time, I began to take
               Courage, and yet I had not Heart enough to go over my Wall again, for Fear of being
               buried alive, but sat still upon the Ground, greatly cast down and disconsolate, not knowing what to do: All this while I had not
               the least serious religious Thought, nothing but the common, <hi rend="italic">Lord ha' Mercy upon
                  me</hi>; and when it was over, that went away too.</p>
            <p>While I sat thus, I found the Air over-cast, and grow cloudy, as if it would Rain;
               soon after that the Wind rose by little and little, so that,
               in less than half an Hour, it blew a most dreadful Hurricane: The Sea was all on a
               Sudden cover'd over with Foam and Froth, the Shore was cover'd with the Breach of the
               Water, the Trees were torn up by the Roots, and a terrible Storm it was; and this
               held about three Hours, and then began to abate, and in two Hours more it was stark
               calm, and began to rain very hard.</p>
            <p>All this while I sat upon the Ground very much terrify'd and dejected, when on a
               sudden it came into my thoughts, that these Winds and Rain being the <ref target="earthquake_" corresp="earthquake">Consequences of the
                  Earthquake</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="earthquake" target="earthquake_" type="gloss">Defoe's scientific reasoning is interesting, but
                  inaccurate: there is, in fact, no causal link between seismic activity and
                  hurricanes.</note>, the Earthquake <pb n="95"/> it self
               was spent and over, and I might venture into my Cave again: With this Thought my
               Spirits began to revive, and the Rain also helping to perswade me, I went in and sat down in my Tent, but the Rain was so violent, that my
               Tent was ready to be beaten down with it, and I was forc'd to go into my Cave, tho'
               very much affraid and uneasy for fear it should fall on my Head.</p>
            <p>This violent Rain forc'd me to a new Work, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> To cut a Hole thro' my new
               Fortification like a Sink to let the Water go out, which would else have drown'd my
               Cave. After I had been in my Cave some time, and found still no more Shocks of the
               Earthquake follow, I began to be more compos'd; and now to
               support my Spirits, which indeed wanted it very much, I went to my little Store and
               took a small Sup of Rum, which however I did then and always very sparingly, knowing
               I could have no more when that was gone.</p>
            <p>It continu'd raining all that Night, and great Part of the next Day, so that I could
               not stir abroad, but my Mind being more compos'd, I began to think of what I had best do, concluding that if the
               Island was subject to these Earthquakes, there would be no living for me in a Cave,
               but I must consider of building me some little Hut in an open Place which I might
               surround with a Wall as I had done here, and so make my self secure from wild Beasts
               or Men; but concluded, if I staid where I was, I should certainly, one time or other,
               be bury'd alive.</p>
            <p>With these Thoughts I resolv'd to remove my Tent from the Place where it stood, which
               was just under the hanging Precipice of the Hill, and which, if it should be shaken
               again, would certainly fall upon my Tent: And I spent the
               two next <pb n="96"/> Days, being the 19th and 20th of
                  <hi rend="italic">April,</hi> in contriving where and how to remove my
               Habitation.</p>
            <p>The fear of being swallow'd up alive, made me that I never slept in quiet, and yet
               the Apprehensions of lying abroad without any Fence was
               almost equal to it; but still when I look'd about and saw how every thing was put in
               order, how pleasantly conceal'd I was, and how safe from Danger, it made me very
               loath to remove.</p>
            <p>In the mean time it occur'd to me that it would require a vast deal of time for me to
               do this, and that I must be contented to run the Venture where I was, till I had
               form'd a Camp for my self, and had secur'd it so as to remove to it: So with this
               Resolution I compos'd my self for a time, and resolv'd that
               I would go to work with all Speed to build me a Wall with Piles and Cables,
                  <hi rend="italic">&amp;c.</hi> in a Circle as before, and set my Tent up in it when it was
               finish'd, but that I would venture to stay where I was till it was finish'd and fit
               to remove to. This was the 21st.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">April</hi> 22. The next Morning I began to consider of Means to put this Resolve
               in Execution, but I was at a great loss about my Tools; I had three large Axes and
               abundance of Hatchets, (for we carried the Hatchets for <ref target="traffick_" corresp="traffick">Traffick</ref> with the <hi rend="italic">Indians</hi>) <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="traffick" target="traffick_" type="gloss">Violent altercation</note> but with much chopping and cutting knotty hard Wood,
               they were all full of Notches and dull, and tho' I had a Grindstone, I could not turn
               it and grind my Tools too, this cost me as much Thought as a Statesman would have
               bestow'd upon a grand Point of Politicks, or a Judge upon the Life and Death of a
               Man. At length I contriv'd a Wheel with a String, to turn it with my Foot, that I
               might have both my Hands at Liberty: <hi rend="italic">Note,</hi> I had never seen any such thing
               in <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> or at least not to take Notice how it was done, tho' since I <pb n="97"/> have observ'd it is very common there; besides
               that, my Grindstone was very large and heavy. This Machine cost me a full Weeks Work
               to bring it to Perfection.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">April</hi> 28, 29. These two whole Days I took up in grinding my Tools, my
               Machine for turning my Grindstone performing very well.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">April</hi> 30. Having perceiv'd my Bread had been low a great while, now I took a
               Survey of it, and reduc'd my self to one Bisket-cake a Day, which made my Heart very
               heavy.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">May</hi> 1. In the Morning looking towards the Sea-side, the Tide being low, I
               saw something lye on the Shore bigger than ordinary, and it look'd like a Cask, when
               I came to it, I found a small Barrel, and two or three Pieces of the Wreck of the
               Ship, which were driven on Shore by the late Hurricane, and looking towards the Wreck
               itself, I thought it seem'd to lye higher out of the Water
               than it us'd to do; I examin'd the Barrel which was driven on Shore, and soon found
               it was a Barrel of Gunpowder, but it had taken Water, and the Powder was cak'd as
               hard as a Stone, however I roll'd it farther on Shore for
               the present, and went on upon the Sands as near as I could to the Wreck of the Ship
               to look for more.</p>
            
            <head> <ref target="Audio8_" corresp="Audio8">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio8" target="Audio8_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_08_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            <p>When I came down to the Ship I found it strangely remov'd,
               The Fore-castle which lay before bury'd in Sand, was heav'd
               up at least Six Foot, and the Stern which was broke to Pieces and parted from the
               rest by the Force of the Sea soon after I had left rummaging her, was toss'd, as it
               were, up, and cast on one Side, and the Sand was thrown so high on that Side next her
               Stern, that whereas there was a great Place of Water before, so that I could not come
               within a Quarter of a Mile of the Wreck without swimming, I could now walk <pb n="98"/> quite up to her when the Tide was out; I was surpriz'd with this at first, but soon concluded it must be
               done by the Earthquake, and as by this Violence the Ship was more broken open than
               formerly, so many Things came daily on Shore, which the Sea
               had loosen'd, and which the Winds and Water rolled by Degrees to the Land.</p>
            <p>This wholly diverted my Thoughts from the Design of removing my Habitation; and I
               busied my self mightily that Day especially, in searching whether I could make any
               Way into the Ship, but I found nothing was to be expected of that Kind, for that all
               the In-side of the Ship was choack'd up with Sand: However, as I had learn'd not to
               despair of any Thing, I resolv'd to pull every Thing to Pieces that I could of the
               Ship, concluding, that every Thing I could get from her would be of some Use or other
               to me.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">May</hi> 3. I began with my Saw, and cut a Piece of a Beam thro', which I thought
               held some of the upper Part or Quarter-Deck together, and when I had cut it thro', I
               clear'd away the Sand as well as I could from the Side which lay highest; but the
               Tide coming in, I was oblig'd to give over for that Time.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">May</hi> 4. I went a fishing, but caught not one Fish that I durst eat of, till I
               was weary of my Sport, when just going to leave off, I caught a young Dolphin. I had
               made me a long Line of some Rope Yarn, but I had no Hooks, yet I frequently caught
               Fish enough, as much as I car'd to eat; all which I dry'd in the Sun, and eat them
               dry.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">May</hi> 5. Work'd on the Wreck, cut another Beam asunder, and brought three
               great Fir Planks off from the Decks, which I ty'd together, and made swim on Shore
               when the Tide of Flood came on.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="99"/>
               <hi rend="italic">May</hi> 6. Work'd on the Wreck, got several Iron Bolts out of her, and other
               Pieces of Iron Work, work'd very hard, and came Home very much tyr'd, and had
               Thoughts of giving it over.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">May</hi> 7. Went to the Wreck again, but with an Intent not to work, but found
               the Weight of the Wreck had broke itself down, the Beams being cut, that several
               Pieces of the Ship seem'd to lie loose, and the In-side of the Hold lay so open, that
               I could see into it, but almost full of Water and Sand.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">May</hi> 8. Went to the Wreck, and carry'd an Iron Crow to wrench up the Deck,
               which lay now quite clear of the Water or Sand; I wrench'd open two Planks, and
               brought them on Shore also with the Tide: I left the Iron Crow in the Wreck for next
               Day.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">May</hi> 9. Went to the Wreck, and with the Crow made Way into the Body of the
               Wreck, and felt several Casks, and loosen'd them with the Crow, but could not break
               them up; I felt also the Roll of <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Lead, and could stir it, but it was
               too heavy to remove.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">May</hi> 10, 11, 12, 13, 14. Went every Day to the Wreck, and got a great deal of
               Pieces of Timber, and Boards, or Plank, and 2 or 300 Weight
               of Iron.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">May</hi> 15. I carry'd two Hatchets to try if I could not cut a Piece off of the
               Roll of Lead, by placing the Edge of one Hatchet, and driving it with the other; but
               as it lay about a Foot and a half in the Water, I could not make any Blow to drive
               the Hatchet.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">May</hi> 16. It had blow'd hard in the Night, and the Wreck appear'd more broken
               by the Force of the Water; but I stay'd so long in the Woods to get Pidgeons for
               Food, that the Tide prevented me going to the Wreck that Day.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="100"/>
               <hi rend="italic">May</hi> 17. I saw some Pieces of the Wreck blown on Shore, at a great Distance,
               near two Miles off me, but resolv'd to see what they were, and found it was a Piece
               of the Head, but too heavy for me to bring away.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">May</hi> 24. Every Day to this Day I work'd on the Wreck, and with hard Labour I
               loosen'd some Things so much with the Crow, that the first blowing Tide several Casks
               floated out, and two of the Seamens Chests; but the Wind blowing from the Shore,
               nothing came to Land that Day, but Pieces of Timber, and a Hogshead which had some
                  <hi rend="italic">Brazil</hi> Pork in it, but the Salt-water and the Sand had spoil'd it.</p>
            <p>I continu'd this Work every Day to the 15th of <hi rend="italic">June,</hi> except the Time
               necessary to get Food, which I always appointed, during this Part of my Employment,
               to be when the Tide was up, that I might be ready when it was ebb'd out, and by this
               Time I had gotten Timber, and Plank, and Iron-Work enough, to have builded a good
               Boat, if I had known how; and also, I got at several Times, and in several Pieces,
               near <ref target="hundredweight3_" corresp="hundredweight3">100 Weight</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="hundredweight3" target="hundredweight3_" type="gloss">An imperial hundredweight, or about 112 lb</note> of the
               Sheet-Lead.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">June</hi> 16. Going down to the Sea-side, I found a large Tortoise or Turtle;
               this was the first I had seen, which it seems was only my Misfortune, not any Defect
               of the Place, or Scarcity; for had I happen'd to be on the
               other Side of the Island, I might have had Hundreds of them every Day, as I found
               afterwards; but perhaps had paid dear enough for them.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">June</hi> 17. I spent in cooking the Turtle; I found in her threescore Eggs; and
               her Flesh was to me at that Time the most savoury and pleasant that ever I tasted in
               my Life, having had no Flesh, <pb n="101"/> but of Goats
               and Fowls, since I landed in this horrid Place.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">June</hi> 18. Rain'd all Day, and I stay'd within. I thought at this Time the
               Rain felt Cold, and I was something chilly, which I knew was not usual in that
               Latitude.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">June</hi> 19. Very ill, and shivering, as if the Weather
               had been cold.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">June</hi> 20. No Rest all Night, violent Pains in my Head, and feaverish.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">June</hi> 21. Very ill, frighted almost to Death with the Apprehensions of my sad
               Condition, to be sick, and no Help: Pray'd to GOD for the first Time since the Storm
               off of <hi rend="italic">Hull,</hi> but scarce knew what I said, or why; my Thoughts being all
               confused.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">June</hi> 22. A little better, but under dreadful Apprehensions of Sickness.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">June</hi> 23. Very bad again, cold and shivering, and then a violent
               Head-ach.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">June</hi> 24. Much better.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">June</hi> 25. An Ague very violent; the Fit held me seven Hours, cold Fit and
               hot, with faint Sweats after it.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">June</hi> 26. Better; and having no Victuals to eat, took my Gun, but found my
               self very weak; however I kill'd a She-Goat, and with much Difficulty got it Home, and broil'd some of it, and eat; I wou'd fain have stew'd it,
               and made some Broath, but had no Pot.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">June</hi> 27. The Ague again so violent, that I lay a-Bed all Day, and neither
               eat or drank. I was ready to perish for Thirst, but so weak, I had not Strength to
               stand up, or to get my self any Water to drink: Pray'd to God again, but was
               light-headed, and when I was not, I was so ignorant, that I
               knew not what to say; only I lay and <pb n="102"/> cry'd,
                  <hi rend="italic">Lord look upon me, Lord pity me, Lord have Mercy upon me</hi>: I suppose I did
               nothing else for two or three Hours, till the Fit wearing off, I fell asleep, and did
               not wake till far in the Night; when I wak'd, I found my self much refresh'd, but
               weak, and exceeding thirsty: However, as I had no Water in
               my whole Habitation, I was forc'd to lie till Morning, and
               went to sleep again: In this second Sleep, I had this terrible Dream.</p>
            <p>I thought, that I was sitting on the Ground on the Out-side of my Wall, where I sat
               when the Storm blew after the Earthquake, and that I saw a Man descend from a great
               black Cloud, in a bright Flame of Fire, and <ref target="light_" corresp="light">light</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="light" target="light_" type="gloss">Alight</note> upon the Ground: He was all over as bright as a Flame,
               so that I could but just bear to look towards him; his Countenance was most
               inexpressibly dreadful, impossible for Words to describe; when he stepp'd upon the
               Ground with his Feet, I thought the Earth trembl'd, just as it had done before in the
               Earthquake, and all the Air look'd, to my Apprehension, as
               if it had been fill'd with Flashes of Fire.</p>
            <p>He was no sooner landed upon the Earth, but he moved forward towards me, with a long
               Spear or Weapon in his Hand, to kill me; and when he came to a rising Ground, at some
               Distance, he spoke to me, or I heard a Voice so terrible, that it is impossible to
               express the Terror of it; all that I can say, I understood, was this, <hi rend="italic">Seeing all
                  these Things have not brought thee to Repentance, now thou shalt die</hi>: At
               which Words, I thought he lifted up the Spear that was in his Hand, to kill me.</p>
            <p>No one, that shall ever read this Account, will expect that I should be able to
               describe the Horrors of my Soul at this terrible Vision, I mean, that even while it
               was a Dream, I even dreamed of those Horrors; nor is it any more possible to describe
                  <pb n="103"/> the Impression that remain'd upon my Mind
               when I awak'd and found it was but a Dream.</p>
            <p>I had alas! no divine Knowledge; what I had received by the
               good Instruction of my Father was then worn out by an uninterrupted Series, for 8
               Years, of Seafaring Wickedness, and a constant Conversation with nothing but such as
               were like my self, wicked and prophane to the last Degree: I do not remember that I
               had in all that Time one Thought that so much as tended either to looking upwards
               toward God, or inwards towards a Reflection upon my own Ways: But a certain Stupidity
               of Soul, without Desire of Good, or Conscience of Evil, had
               entirely overwhelm'd me, and I was all that the most hardned, unthinking, wicked
               Creature among our common Sailors, can be supposed to be, not having the least Sense,
               either of the Fear of God in Danger, or of Thankfulness to God in Deliverances.</p>
            <p>In the relating what is already past of my Story, this will be the more easily
               believ'd, when I shall add, that thro' all the Variety of Miseries that had to this
               Day befallen me, I never had so much as one Thought of it being the Hand of God, or
               that it was a just Punishment for my Sin; my rebellious
               Behaviour against my Father, or my present Sins which were
               great; or so much as a Punishment for the general Course of
               my wicked Life. When I was on the desperate Expedition on the desart Shores of <hi rend="italic">Africa,</hi> I never had so much as one
               Thought of what would become of me; or one Wish to God to direct me whether I should
               go, or to keep me from the Danger which apparently surrounded me, as well from voracious Creatures as cruel Savages: But I was meerly
               thoughtless of a God, or a Providence; acted like a meer Brute from the Principles of
               Nature, and by the Dictates of common Sense only, and indeed hardly that.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="104"/>When I was deliver'd and taken up at Sea by
               the <hi rend="italic">Portugal</hi> Captain, well us'd, and dealt justly and honourably with, as
               well as charitably, I had not the least Thankfulness on my Thoughts: When again I was
               shipwreck'd, ruin'd, and in Danger of drowning on this Island, I was as far from Remorse, or looking on it as a Judgment; I only said to my
               self often, that I was <hi rend="italic">an unfortunate Dog,</hi> and born to be always
               miserable.</p>
            <p>It is true, when I got on Shore first here, and found all my Ship's Crew drown'd, and
               my self spar'd, I was surpriz'd with a Kind of Extasie, and some Transports of Soul,
               which, had the Grace of God assisted, might have come up to true Thankfulness; but it ended where it begun, in a meer common
               Flight of Joy, or as I may say, <hi rend="italic">being glad I was alive,</hi> without the least
               Reflection upon the distinguishing Goodness of the Hand which had preserv'd me, and
               had singled me out to be preserv'd, when all the rest were
               destroy'd; or an Enquiry why Providence had been thus
               merciful to me; even just the same common Sort of Joy which Seamen generally have
               after they are got safe ashore from a Shipwreck, which they drown all in the next
               Bowl of Punch, and forget almost as soon as it is over, and all the rest of my Life
               was like it.</p>
            <p>Even when I was afterwards, on due Consideration, made
               sensible of my Condition, how I was cast on this dreadful Place, out of the Reach of
                  humane Kind, out of all Hope of Relief, or Prospect of
               Redemption, as soon as I saw but a Prospect of living, and that I should not starve
               and perish for Hunger, all the Sense of my Affliction wore off, and I begun to be
               very easy, apply'd my self to the Works proper for my Preservation and Supply, and
               was far enough from being afflicted at my Condition, as a
               Judgment from Heaven, or as the <pb n="105"/> Hand of God
               against me; these were Thoughts which very seldom enter'd into my Head.</p>
            <p>The growing up of the Corn, as is hinted in my Journal, had at first some little
               Influence upon me, and began to affect me with Seriousness, as long as I thought it
               had something miraculous in it; but as soon as ever that Part of the Thought was
               remov'd, all the Impression which was rais'd from it, wore off also, as I have noted
               already.</p>
            <p>Even the Earthquake, tho' nothing could be more terrible in its Nature, or more
               immediately directing to the invisible Power which alone directs such Things, yet no sooner was the first Fright over, but the Impression it
               had made went off also. I had no more Sense of God or his Judgments, much less of the
               present Affliction of my Circumstances being from his Hand,
               than if I had been in the most prosperous Condition of Life.</p>
            <p>But now when I began to be sick, and a leisurely View of the
               Miseries of Death came to place itself before me; when my
               Spirits began to sink under the Burthen of a strong
               Distemper, and Nature was exhausted with the Violence of the Feaver; Conscience that
               had slept so long, begun to awake, and I began to reproach my self with my past Life,
               in which I had so evidently, by uncommon Wickedness,
               provok'd the Justice of God to lay me under uncommon Strokes, and to deal with me in
               so vindictive a Manner.</p>
            <p>These Reflections oppress'd me for the second or third Day of my Distemper, and in
               the Violence, as well of the Feaver, as of the dreadful Reproaches of my Conscience,
               extorted some Words from me, like praying to God, tho' I cannot say they were either
               a Prayer attended with Desires or with Hopes; it was rather the Voice of meer Fright
               and Distress; my Thoughts were confus'd, the <pb n="106"/>
               Convictions great upon my Mind, and the Horror of dying in such a miserable Condition
               rais'd Vapours into my Head with the meer Apprehensions; and in these Hurries of my Soul, I know not what my
               Tongue might express: but it was rather Exclamation, such
               as, Lord! what a miserable Creature am I? If I should be sick, I shall certainly die for Want of Help, and what will become of me! Then
               the Tears burst out of my Eyes, and I could say no more for a good while.</p>
            <p>In this Interval, the good Advice of my Father came to my Mind, and presently his
               Prediction which I mention'd at the Beginning of this Story, <hi rend="italic">viz. That if I did
                  take this foolish Step, God would not bless me, and I would have Leisure hereafter
                  to reflect upon having neglected his Counsel, when there might be none to assist
                  in my Recovery.</hi> Now, said I aloud, My dear Father's Words are come to pass:
               God's Justice has overtaken me, and I have none to help or hear me: I rejected the
               Voice of Providence, which had mercifully put me in a Posture or Station of Life, wherein I might have been happy and easy; but
               I would neither see it my self, or learn to know the Blessing of it from my Parents;
               I left them to mourn over my Folly, and now I am left to mourn under the Consequences
               of it: I refus'd their Help and Assistance who wou'd have lifted me into the World,
               and wou'd have made every Thing easy to me, and now I have Difficulties to struggle with, too great for even Nature itself to support, and no Assistance, no Help, no Comfort, no Advice;
               then I cry'd out, <hi rend="italic">Lord be my Help, for I am in great Distress.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>This was the first Prayer, if I may call it so, that I had made for many Years: But I
               return to my Journal.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="107"/>
               <hi rend="italic">June</hi> 28. Having been somewhat refresh'd with the Sleep I had had, and the
               Fit being entirely off, I got up; and tho' the Fright and Terror of my Dream was very
               great, yet I consider'd, that the Fit of the Ague wou'd return again the next Day,
               and now was my Time to get something to refresh and support my self when I should be
               ill; and the first Thing I did, I fill'd a large square Case Bottle with Water, and
               set it upon my Table, in Reach of my Bed; and to take off
               the chill or aguish Disposition of the Water, I put about a Quarter of a Pint of Rum
               into it, and mix'd them together; then I got me a Piece of the Goat's Flesh, and
               broil'd it on the Coals, but could eat very little; I walk'd about, but was very
               weak, and withal very sad and heavy-hearted in the Sense of my miserable Condition;
                  dreading the Return of my Distemper the next Day; at
               Night I made my Supper of three of the Turtle's Eggs, which I roasted in the Ashes,
               and eat, as we call it, in the Shell; and this was the first Bit of <ref target="meat_" corresp="meat">Meat</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="meat" target="meat_" type="gloss">Food generally, not necessarily
                  restricted to animal's flesh</note> I had ever ask'd God's Blessing to, even as I
               cou'd remember, in my whole Life.</p>
            <p>After I had eaten, I try'd to walk, but found my self so weak, that I cou'd hardly
               carry the Gun, (for I never went out without that) so I went but a little Way, and
               sat down upon the Ground, looking out upon the Sea, which was just before me, and
               very calm and smooth: As I sat here, some such Thoughts as these occurred to me.</p>
            <p>What is this Earth and Sea of which I have seen so much, whence is it produc'd, and
               what am I, and all the other Creatures, wild and tame, humane and brutal, whence are
               we?</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="108"/>Sure we are all made by some secret Power, who
               form'd the Earth and Sea, the Air and Sky; and who is that?</p>
            <p>Then it follow'd most naturally, It is God that has made it all: Well, but then it
               came on strangely, if God has made all these Things, He guides and governs them all,
               and all Things that concern them; for the Power that could make all Things, must
               certainly have Power to guide and direct them.</p>
            <p>If so, nothing can happen in the great Circuit of his Works, either without his
               Knowledge or Appointment.</p>
            <p>And if nothing happens without his Knowledge, he knows that I am here, and am in this
               dreadful Condition; and if nothing happens without his Appointment, he has appointed
               all this to befal me.</p>
            <p>Nothing occurr'd to my Thought to contradict any of these Conclusions; and therefore
               it rested upon me with the greater Force, that it must needs be, that God had
               appointed all this to befal me; that I was brought to this miserable Circumstance by
               his Direction, he having the sole Power, not of me only, but of every Thing that
               happen'd in the World. Immediately it follow'd,</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Why has God done this to me? What have I done to be thus us'd?</hi>
            </p>
            <p>My Conscience presently check'd me in that Enquiry, as if I
               had blasphem'd, and methought it spoke to me like a Voice; <hi rend="italic">WRETCH! dost thou ask
                  what thou hast done!</hi> look back upon a dreadful mis-spent Life, and ask thy
               self <hi rend="italic">what thou hast not done?</hi> ask, Why is it <hi rend="italic">that thou wert not long ago
                     destroy'd?</hi> Why <hi rend="italic">wert thou not drown'd in</hi>
               Yarmouth Roads? <hi rend="italic">Kill'd in the Fight when the Ship was taken by</hi> the Sallee
               Man of War? <hi rend="italic">Devour'd by the wild Beasts <pb n="109"/>
                  on the</hi> Coast of Africa? Or, <hi rend="italic">Drown'd HERE, when all the Crew perish'd but
                  thy self</hi>? Dost thou ask, <hi rend="italic">What have I done?</hi>
            </p>
            <p>I was struck dumb with these Reflections, as one astonish'd, and had not a Word to
               say, no not to answer to my self, but rise up pensive and sad, walk'd back to my
               Retreat, and went up over my Wall, as if I had been going to Bed, but my Thoughts
               were sadly disturb'd, and I had no Inclination to Sleep; so
               I sat down in my Chair, and lighted my Lamp, for it began to be dark: Now as the
               Apprehension of the Return of my Distemper terrify'd me very
               much, it occurr'd to my Thought, that the <hi rend="italic">Brasilians</hi> take no Physick but
               their Tobacco, for almost all Distempers; and I had a Piece of a Roll of Tobacco in
               one of the Chests, which was quite cur'd, and some also that was green and not quite
               cur'd.</p>
            <p>I went, directed by Heaven no doubt; for in this Chest I found a Cure, both for Soul
               and Body, I open'd the Chest, and found what I look'd for, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> the Tobacco;
               and as the few Books, I had sav'd, lay there too, I took out one of the Bibles which
               I mention'd before, and which to this Time I had not found Leisure, or so much as
               Inclination to look into; I say, I took it out, and brought both that and the Tobacco
               with me to the Table.</p>
            <p>What Use to make of the Tobacco, I knew not, as to my Distemper, or whether it was
               good for it or no; but I try'd several Experiments with it, as if I was resolv'd it
               should hit one Way or other: I first took a Piece of a Leaf, and chew'd it in my
               Mouth, which indeed at first almost stupify'd my Brain, the Tobacco being green and
               strong, and that I had not been much us'd to it; then I took some and steeped it an
               Hour or two in some Rum, and resolv'd to take a Dose of it when I lay down; <pb n="110"/> and lastly, I burnt some upon a Pan of Coals,
               and held my Nose close over the Smoke of it as long as I could bear it, as well for
               the Heat as almost for Suffocation.</p>
            <p>In the Interval of this Operation, I took up the Bible and began to read, but my Head
               was too much disturb'd with the Tobacco to bear reading, at least that Time; only
               having open'd the Book casually, the first Words that
               occurr'd to me were these, <ref target="psalmfifty_" corresp="psalmfifty">Call on me
                  in the Day of Trouble</ref> <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="psalmfifty" target="psalmfifty_" type="gloss">Psalm 50:15</note>, and I will deliver, and thou shalt glorify me.
            </p>
            <p>The Words were very apt to my Case, and made some Impression upon my Thoughts at the
               Time of reading them, tho' not so much as they did afterwards; for as for being deliver'd, the Word had no Sound, <hi rend="italic">as I may say,</hi> to
               me; the Thing was so remote, so impossible in my Apprehension of Things, that I began
               to say as the Children of <hi rend="italic">Israel</hi> did, <ref target="exodus2_" corresp="exodus2">when they were promis'd Flesh to eat</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="exodus2" target="exodus2_" type="gloss">God grants the hungry Israelites manna to eat as they cross the desert, bound for
                  the promised land (Exodus 16:1-13)</note>, <hi rend="italic">Can God spread a Table in the
                  Wilderness</hi>; so I began to say, Can God himself deliver me from this Place?
               and as it was not for many Years that any Hope appear'd, this prevail'd very often
               upon my Thoughts: But however, the Words made a great Impression upon me, and I mused
               upon them very often. It grew now late, and the Tobacco had, as I said, doz'd my Head
               so much, that I inclin'd to sleep; so I left my Lamp burning in the Cave, least I
               should want any Thing in the Night, and went to Bed; but before I lay down, I did
               what I never had done in all my Life, I kneel'd down and pray'd to God to fulfil the
               Promise to me, that if I call'd upon him in the Day of Trouble, he would deliver me;
                  after my broken and imperfect Prayer was over, I drunk
               the Rum in which I had steep'd the Tobacco, which was so
               strong and rank of the Tobacco, that indeed I could scarce get it down; immediately
                  <pb n="111"/> upon this I went to Bed, I found presently
               it flew up in my Head violently, but I fell into a sound Sleep, and wak'd no more
               'till by the Sun it must necessarily be near Three a-Clock in the Afternoon the next
               Day; nay, to this Hour, I'm partly of the Opinion, that I slept all the next Day and
               Night, and 'till almost Three that Day after; for otherwise
               I knew not how I should lose a Day out of my Reckoning in the Days of the Week, as it
               appear'd some Years after I had done: for if I had lost it by crossing and
               re-crossing the Line, I should have lost more than one Day: But certainly I lost a
               Day in my Accompt, and never knew which Way.</p>
            <p>Be that however one Way or th' other, when I awak'd I found my self exceedingly
               refresh'd, and my Spirits lively and chearful; when I got up, I was stronger than I
               was the Day before, and my Stomach better, for I was hungry; and in short, I had no
               Fit the next Day, but continu'd much alter'd for the better; this was the 29th.</p>
            <p>The 30th was my well Day of Course, and I went abroad with my Gun, but did not care
               to travel too far, I kill'd a Sea Fowl or two, something
               like a brand Goose, and brought them Home, but was not very forward to eat them; so I
               ate some more of the Turtle's Eggs, which were very good. This Evening I renew'd the
               Medicine which I had suppos'd did me good the Day before, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> the Tobacco steep'd in Rum, only I did not take so much as before, nor did I chew any of the Leaf, or hold my Head over
               the Smoke; however, I was not so well the next Day, which was the first of
                  <hi rend="italic">July,</hi> as I hop'd I shou'd have been; for I had a little Spice of the cold
               Fit, but it was not much.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">July</hi> 2. I renew'd the Medicine all the three Ways, and doz'd my self with it
               as at first; and doubled the Quantity which I drank.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="112"/>3. I miss'd the Fit for good and all, tho' I
               did not recover my full Strength for some Weeks after; while I was thus gathering
               Strength, my Thoughts run exceedingly upon this Scripture, <hi rend="italic">I will deliver
                  thee,</hi> and the Impossibility of my Deliverance lay much upon my Mind in Barr
               of my ever expecting it: But as I was discouraging my self with such Thoughts, it
               occurr'd to my Mind, that I pored so much upon my Deliverance from the main Affliction, that I disregarded the Deliverance I had receiv'd; and I was, as it were, made to ask my self such
               Questions as these, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> Have I not been deliver'd, and wonderfully too,
               from Sickness? from the most distress'd Condition that could be, and that was so
               frightful to me, and what Notice I had taken of it: Had I done my Part, <hi rend="italic">God had
                     deliver'd me, but I had not glorify'd him</hi>; that
               is to say, I had not own'd and been thankful for that as a Deliverance, and how cou'd
               I expect greater Deliverance?</p>
            <p>This touch'd my Heart very much, and immediately I kneeel'd
               down and gave God Thanks aloud, for my Recovery from my
               Sickness.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">July</hi> 4. In the Morning I took the Bible, and beginning at the New Testament, I began seriously to read it, and impos'd upon my
               self to read a while every Morning and every Night, not tying my self to the Number
               of Chapters, but as long as my Thoughts shou'd engage me: It was not long after I set
               seriously to this Work, but I found my Heart more deeply and sincerely affected with
               the Wickedness of my past Life: The Impression of my Dream
               reviv'd, and the Words, <hi rend="italic">All these Things have not brought thee to
                  Repentance,</hi> ran seriously in my Thought: I was
               earnestly begging of God to give me Repentance, when it happen'd providentially the
               very Day that reading the Scriture, <pb n="113"/> I came to these Words, <ref target="acts_" corresp="acts">He is exalted a Prince and a Saviour, to give Repentance, and to
                  give Remission</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="acts" target="acts_" type="gloss">Acts 5:31</note>: I threw down the Book,
               and with my Heart as well as my Hands lifted up to Heaven, in a Kind of Extasy of
               Joy, I cry'd out aloud, <hi rend="italic">Jesus, thou Son of</hi> David, <hi rend="italic">Jesus, thou exalted
                  Prince and Saviour, give me Repentance!</hi>
            </p>
            <p>This was the first Time that I could say, in the true Sense of the Words, that I
               pray'd in all my Life; for now I pray'd with a Sense of my Condition, and with a true
               Scripture View of Hope founded on the Encouragement of the Word of God; and from this
               Time, I may say, I began to have Hope that God would hear me.</p>
            <p>Now I began to construe the Words mentioned above, <hi rend="italic">Call on me, and I will deliver
                  you,</hi> in a different Sense from what I had ever done
               before; for then I had no Notion of any thing being call'd Deliverance, but my being deliver'd from the Captivity I was
               in; for tho' I was indeed at large in the Place, yet the Island was certainly a
               Prison to me, and that in the worst Sense in the World; but now I learn'd to take it
               in another Sense: Now I look'd back upon my past Life with such Horrour, and my Sins
               appear'd so dreadful, that my Soul sought nothing of God, but Deliverance from the Load of Guilt that bore down all my Comfort:
               As for my solitary Life it was nothing; I did not so much as pray to be deliver'd
               from it, or think of it; It was all of no Consideration in Comparison to this: And I
               add this Part here, to hint to whoever shall read it, that whenever they come to a
               true Sense of things, they will find Deliverance from Sin a
               much greater Blessing, that Deliverance from Affliction.</p>
            <p>But leaving this Part, I return to my Journal.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="114"/>My Condition began now to be, tho' not less
                  miserable as to my Way of living, yet much easier to my
               Mind; and my Thoughts being directed, by a constant reading the Scripture, and
               praying to God, to things of a higher Nature: I had a great deal of Comfort within,
               which till now I knew nothing of; also, as my Health and
               Strength returned, I bestirr'd my self to furnish my self with every thing that I
               wanted, and make my Way of living as regular as I could.</p>
            <p>From the 4th of <hi rend="italic">July</hi> to the 14th, I was chiefly employ'd in walking about
               with my Gun in my Hand, a little and a little, at a Time, as a Man that was gathering
               up his Strength after a Fit of Sickness: For it is hardly to be imagin'd, how low I
               was, and to what Weakness I was reduc'd. The Application which I made Use of was
               perfectly new, and perhaps what had never cur'd an Ague before, neither can I
               recommend it to any one to practise, by this Experiment; and tho' it did carry off the Fit, yet it rather contributed to weakening me; for I had frequent Convulsions in my Nerves and
               Limbs for some Time.</p>
            <p>I learn'd from it also this in particular, that being abroad
               in the rainy Season was the most pernicious thing to my
               Health that could be, especially in those Rains which came attended with Storms and
               Hurricanes of Wind; for as the Rain which came in the dry Season was always most
               accompany'd with such Storms, so I found that Rain was much more dangerous than the
               Rain which fell in <hi rend="italic">September</hi> and <hi rend="italic">October.</hi>
            </p>
            
            <head> <ref target="Audio9_" corresp="Audio9">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio9" target="Audio9_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_09_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            <p>I had been now in this unhappy Island above 10 Months, all Possibility of Deliverance
               from this Condition, seem'd to be entirely taken from me; and I firmly believed, that
               no humane Shape had ever set Foot upon that Place: Having now secur'd <pb n="115"/> my Habitation, as I thought, fully to my Mind, I had a
               great Desire to make a more perfect Discovery of the Island,
               and to see what other Productions I might find, which I yet
               knew nothing of.</p>
            <p>It was the 15th of <hi rend="italic">July</hi> that I began to take a more particular Survey of the
               Island it self: I went up the Creek first, where, as I hinted, I brought my Rafts on
               Shore; I found after I came about two Miles up, that the Tide did not flow any
               higher, and that it was no more than a little Brook of running Water, and very fresh
               and good; but this being the dry Season, there was hardly any Water in some Parrs of
               it, at least, not enough to run in any Stream, so as it could be perceiv'd.</p>
            <p>On the Bank of this Brook I found many pleasant
                  <hi rend="italic">Savana's,</hi> or Meadows; plain, smooth, and cover'd with Grass; and on the
               rising Parts of them next to the higher Grounds, where the Water, as it might be supposed, never overflow'd, I found a great deal of Tobacco,
               green, and growing to a great and very strong Stalk; there were divers other Plants which I had no Notion of, or Understanding about, and might perhaps have Vertues of their own, which I could not find out.</p>
            <p>I searched for the <ref target="cassava_" corresp="cassava">Cassava</ref> Root <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="cassava" target="cassava_" type="gloss">A
                  woody shrub native to South America</note>, which the <hi rend="italic">Indians</hi> in all that Climate make their Bread of, but I
               could find none. I saw large Plants of Alloes, but did not then understand them. I
               saw several Sugar Canes, but wild, and for want of Cultivation, imperfect. I contented my self with these Discoveries for this
               Time, and came back musing with my self what Course I might take to know the Vertue
               and Goodness of any of the Fruits or Plants which I should discover; but could bring
               it to no Conclusion; for in short, I had made so little
                  Observation while I was in the <hi rend="italic">Brasils,</hi> that I
               knew little <pb n="116"/> of the Plants in the Field, at
               least very little that might serve me to any Purpose now in my Distress.</p>
            <p>The next Day, the 16th, I went up the same Way again, and after going something
               farther than I had gone the Day before, I found the Brook, and the <hi rend="italic">Savana's</hi>
               began to cease, and the Country became more woody than
               before; in this Part I found different Fruits, and particularly I found Mellons upon
               the Ground in great Abundance, and Grapes upon the Trees; the Vines had spread indeed
               over the Trees, and the Clusters of Grapes were just now in their Prime, very ripe
               and rich: This was a surprising Discovery, and I was exceeding glad of them; but I
               was warn'd by my Experience to eat sparingly of them, remembring, that when I was
               ashore in <hi rend="italic">Barbary,</hi> the eating of Grapes kill'd several of our
                  <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Men who were Slaves there, by <ref target="scurvy_" corresp="scurvy">throwing them into Fluxes and Feavers</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="scurvy" target="scurvy_" type="gloss">There is no scientific basis for this supposition. More likely, the symptoms
                  Crusoe describes were a result of scurvy, a condition caused by vitamin C
                  deficiency and common among sailors.</note>: But I found an excellent Use for
               these Grapes, and that was to cure or dry them in the Sun, and keep them as dry'd
               Grapes or Raisins are kept, which I thought would be, as indeed they were, as
               wholesom as agreeable to eat, when no Grapes might be to be had.</p>
            <p>I spent all that Evening there, and went not back to my Habitation, which by the Way
               was the first Night, as I might say, I had lain from Home. In the Night I took my
               first Contrivance, and got up into a Tree, where I slept well, and the next Morning
               proceeded upon my Discovery, travelling near four Miles, as
               I might judge by the Length of the Valley, keeping still due North, with a Ridge of
               Hills on the South and North-side of me.</p>
            <p>At the End of this March I came to an Opening, where the
               Country seem'd to descend to the <pb n="117"/> West, and a
               litrle Spring of fresh Water which issued out of the Side of
               the Hill by me, run the other Way, that is due East; and the Country appear'd so fresh, so green, so flourishing, every thing being
               in a constant Verdure, or Flourish of <hi rend="italic">Spring,</hi> that it looked like a planted
               Garden.</p>
            <p>I descended a little on the Side of that delicious Vale, surveying it with a secret
               Kind of Pleasure, (tho' mixt with my other afflicting Thoughts) to think that this
               was all my own, that I was King and Lord of all this Country indefeasibly, and had a
               Right of Possession; and if I could convey it, I might have it in Inheritance, as
               compleatly as any Lord of a Mannor in <hi rend="italic">England.</hi> I saw here Abundance of Cocoa
               Trees, Orange, and Lemmon, and Citron Trees; but all wild,
               and very few bearing any Fruit, at least not then: However,
               the green Limes that I gathered, were not only pleasant to eat, but very wholesome;
               and I mix'd their Juice afterwards with Water, which made it very wholesome, and very
               cool, and refreshing.</p>
            <p>I found now I had Business enough to gather and carry Home; and I resolv'd to lay up
               a Store, as well of Grapes, as Limes and Lemons, to furnish my self for the wet
               Season, which I knew was approaching.</p>
            <p>In Order to this, I gather'd a great Heap of Grapes in one Place, and a lesser Heap
               in another Place, and a great Parcel of Limes and Lemons in another Place; and taking
               a few of each with me, I travell'd homeward, and resolv'd to come again, and bring a
               Bag or Sack, or what I could make to carry the rest Home.</p>
            <p>Accordingly, having spent three Days in this Journey, I came Home; so I must now call
               my Tent and my Cave: But, before I got thither, the <pb n="118"/> Grapes were spoil'd, the Richness of the Fruits, and
               the Weight of the Juice having broken them, and bruis'd them, they were good for
               little or nothing; as to the Limes, they were good, but I
               could bring but a few.</p>
            <p>The next Day, being the 19th, I went back, having made me two small Bags to bring
               Home my Harvest: But I was surpriz'd, when coming to my Heap of Grapes, which were so
               rich and fine when I gather'd them, I found them all spread about, trod to Pieces,
               and dragg'd about, some here, some there, and Abundance eaten and devour'd: By this I
               concluded, there were some wild Creatures thereabouts, which had done this; but what
               they were, I knew not.</p>
            <p>However, as I found there there was no laying them up on Heaps, and no carrying them
               away in a Sack, but that one Way they would be destroy'd, and the other Way they
               would be crush'd with their own Weight. I took another Course; for I gather'd a large
               Quantity of the Grapes, and hung them up upon the out Branches of the Trees, that
               they might cure and dry in the Sun; and as for the Limes and Lemons, I carry'd as
               many back as I could well stand under.</p>
            <p>When I came Home from this Journey, I contemplated with
               great Pleasure the Fruitfulness of that Valley, and the Pleasantness of the
               Scituation, the Security from Storms on that Side the Water, and the Wood, and
               concluded, that I had pitch'd upon a Place to fix my Abode, which was by far the
               worst Part of the Country. Upon the Whole I began to consider of removing my
               Habitation; and to look out for a Place equally safe, as where I now was scituate, if
               possible, in that pleasant fruitful Part of the Island.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="119"/>This Thought run long in my Head, and I was
               exceeding fond of it for some Time, the Pleasantness of the
               Place tempting me; but when I came to a nearer View of it, and to consider that I was
               now by the Sea-Side, where it was at least possible that something might happen to my
               Advantage, and by the same ill Fate that brought me hither, might bring some other
               unhappy Wretches to the same Place; and tho' it was scarce probable that any such
               Thing should ever happen, yet to enclose my self among the Hills and Woods, in the
               Center of the Island, was to anticipate my Bondage, and to rend such an Affair not
               only Improbable, but Impossible; and that therefore I ought not by any Means to
               remove.</p>
            <p>However, I was so Enamour'd of this Place, that I spent much of my Time there, for
               the whole remaining Part of the Month of <hi rend="italic">July</hi>; and tho' upon second Thoughts
               I resolv'd as above, not to remove, yet I built me a little kind of a Bower, and
               surrounded it at a Distance with a strong Fence, being a double Hedge, as high as I
               could reach, well stak'd, and fill'd between with <hi rend="italic">Brushwood</hi>; and here I lay very secure, sometimes two or three Nights together,
               always going over it with a Ladder, as before; so that I fancy'd now I had my
               Country-House, and my Sea-Coast-House: And this Work took me up to the Beginning of <hi rend="italic">August.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>I had but newly finish'd my Fence, and began to enjoy my
               Labour, but the Rains came on, and made me stick close to my first Habitation; for
               tho' I had made me a Tent like the other, with a Piece of a Sail, and spread it very
               well; yet I had not the Shelter of a Hill to keep me from Storms, nor a Cave behind
               me to retreat into, when the Rains were extraordinary.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="120"/>About the Beginning of <hi rend="italic">August, as I
                  said,</hi> I had finish'd my Bower, and began to enjoy my self. The third of
                  <hi rend="italic">August,</hi> I found the Grapes I had hung up were perfectly dry'd, and
               indeed, were excellent good Raisins of the Sun; so I began to take them down from the
               Trees, and it was very happy that I did so; for the Rains which follow'd would have
               spoil'd them, and I had lost the best Part of my Winter Food; for I had above two
               hundred large Bunches of them. No sooner had I taken them all down, and carry'd most
               of them Home to my Cave, but it began to rain, and from hence, which was the
               fourteenth of <hi rend="italic">August,</hi> it rain'd more or less, every Day, till the Middle of
                  <hi rend="italic">October</hi>; and sometimes so violently, that I could not stir out of my Cave
               for several Days.</p>
            <p>In this Season I was much surpriz'd with the Increase of my Family; I had been
               concern'd for the Loss of one of my Cats, who run away from me, or as I thought had
               been dead, and I heard no more Tale or Tidings of her, till to my Astonishment she came Home about the End of <hi rend="italic">August,</hi> with
               three <hi rend="italic">Kittens</hi>; this was the more strange to me, because tho' I had kill'd a
               wild Cat, as I call'd it, with my Gun; yet I thought it was a quite differing Kind
               from our <hi rend="italic">European</hi> Cats; yet the young Cats were the same Kind of House breed
               like the old one; and both my Cats being Females, I thought it very strange: But from
               these three Cats, I afterwards came to be so pester'd with Cats, that I was forc'd to
               kill them like Vermine, or wild Beasts, and to drive them from my House as much as
               possible.</p>
            <p>From the fourteenth of <hi rend="italic">August</hi> to the twenty sixth, incessant Rain, so that I
               could not stir, and was now very careful not to be much wet. In this Confinement I
               began to be straitned for Food, but <pb n="121"/> venturing
               out twice, I one Day kill'd a Goat, and the last Day, which was the twenty sixth,
               found a very large Tortoise, which was a Treat to me, and my Food was regulated thus;
               I eat a Bunch of Raisins for my Breakfast, a Piece of the Goat's Flesh, or of the
               Turtle for my Dinner broil'd; for to my great Misfortune, I had no Vessel to boil or
               stew any Thing; and two or three of the Turtle's Eggs for my
               Supper.</p>
            <p>During this Confinement in my Cover, by the Rain, I work'd daily two or three Hours
               at enlarging my Cave, and by Degrees work'd it on towards one Side, till I came to
               the Out-Side of the Hill, and made a Door or Way out, which came beyond my Fence or
               Wall, and so I came in and out this Way; but I was not perfectly easy at lying so
               open; for as I had manag'd my self before, I was in a perfect Enclosure, whereas now I thought I lay expos'd, and open for
               any Thing to come in upon me; and yet I could not perceive that there was any living
               Thing to fear, the biggest Creature that I had yet seen upon the Island being a
               Goat.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">September</hi> the thirtieth, I was now come to the unhappy Anniversary of my
               Landing. I <ref target="castup_" corresp="castup">cast up</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="castup" target="castup_" type="gloss">Counted</note> the Notches on my Post, and found I had been on Shore three
               hundred and sixty five Days. I kept this Day as a Solemn Fast, setting it apart to
               Religious Exercise, prostrating my self on the Ground with the most serious <ref target="humiliation_" corresp="humiliation">Humiliation</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="humiliation" target="humiliation_" type="gloss">In this context, meaning humility, rather than embarrassment</note>,
               confessing my Sins to God, acknowledging his Righteous Judgments upon me, and praying
               to him to have Mercy on me, through Jesus Christ; and having not tasted the least
               Refreshment for twelve Hours, even till the going down of the Sun, I then eat a
               Bisket Cake, and a Bunch of Grapes, and went to Bed, finishing the Day as I began
               it.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="122"/>I had all this Time observ'd no Sabbath-Day;
               for as at first I had no Sense of Religion upon my Mind, I had after some Time
               omitted to distinguish the Weeks, by making a longer Notch
               than ordinary for the Sabbath-Day, and so did not really know what any of the Days
               were; but now having cast up the Days, as above, I found I had been there a Year; so
               I divided it into Weeks, and set apart every seventh Day for a Sabbath; though I
               found at the End of my Account I had lost a Day or two in my Reckoning.</p>
            <p>A little after this my Ink began to fail me, and so I contented my self to use it
               more sparingly, and to write down only the most remarkable Events of my Life, without
               continuing a daily <hi rend="italic">Memorandum</hi> of other Things.</p>
            <p>The rainy Season, and the dry Season, began now to appear regular to me, and I
               learn'd to divide them so, as to provide for them accordingly. But I bought all my
               Experience before I had it; and this I am going to relate, was one of the most discouraging Experiments that I made at all: I have mention'd
               that I had sav'd the few Ears of Barley and Rice, which I had so surprizingly found
               spring up, as I thought, of themselves, and believe there was about thirty Stalks of
               Rice, and about twenty of Barley; and now I thought it a proper Time to sow it after
               the Rains, the Sun being in its <hi rend="italic">Southern</hi> Position going from me.</p>
            <p>Accordingly I dug up a Piece of Ground as well as I could with my wooden Spade, and
               dividing it into two Parts, I sow'd my Grain; but as I was sowing, it casually
               occur'd to my Thoughts, That I would not sow it all at first, because I did not know
               when was the proper Time for it; so I sow'd about two Thirds of the Seed, leaving
               about a Handful of each.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="123"/>It was a great Comfort to me afterwards, that
               I did so, for not one Grain of that I sow'd this Time came to any Thing; for the dry
               Months following, the Earth having had no Rain after the Seed was sown, it had no
               Moisture to assist its Growth, and never came up at all, till the wet Season had come
               again, and then it grew as if it had been but newly sown.</p>
            <p>Finding my first Seed did not grow, which I easily imagin'd was by the Drought, I
               sought for a moister Peice of Ground to make another Trial in, and I dug up a Piece
               of Ground near my new Bower, and sow'd the rest of my Seed in <hi rend="italic">February,</hi> a
               little before the <ref target="vernalequinox_" corresp="vernalequinox">Vernal
                  Equinox</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="vernalequinox" target="vernalequinox_" type="gloss">This falls between March 19-21, depending on
                  the year</note>; and this having the rainy Months of
                  <hi rend="italic">March</hi> and <hi rend="italic">April</hi> to water it, sprung up
               very pleasantly, and yielded a very good Crop; but having Part of the Seed left only,
               and not daring to sow all that I had, I had but a small Quantity at last, my whole
               Crop not amounting to above half a <ref target="peck_" corresp="peck">Peck</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="peck" target="peck_" type="gloss">An
                  imperial unit of dry volume, approximately 2 gallons</note> of each kind.</p>
            <p>But by this Experiment I was made Master of my Business, and knew exactly when the
               proper Season was to sow; and that I might expect two Seed Times, and two Harvests
               every Year.</p>
            <p>While this Corn was growing, I made a little Discovery which was of use to me
               afterwards: As soon as the Rains were over, and the Weather began to settle, which was about the Month of <hi rend="italic">November,</hi> I made a Visit up the Country to my Bower,
               where though I had not been some Months, yet I found all Things just as I left them.
               The Circle or double Hedge that I had made, was not only firm and entire; but the Stakes which I had cut out of
               some Trees that grew thereabouts, were all shot out and grown with long Branches, as
               much as a Willow-Tree usually shoots the first Year after lopping its Head. I could
               not tell what Tree to <pb n="124"/> call it, that these
               Stakes were cut from. I was surpriz'd, and yet very well pleas'd, to see the young
               Trees grow; and I prun'd them, and led them up to grow as much alike as I could; and
               it is scarce credible how beautiful a Figure they grew into in three Years; so that
               though the Hedge made a Circle of about twenty five Yards in Diameter, yet the Trees, for such I might now call them, soon
               cover'd it; and it was a compleat Shade, sufficient to lodge under all the dry
               Season.</p>
            <p>This made me resolve to cut some more Stakes, and make me a Hedge like this in a
               Semicircle round my Wall; I mean that of my first Dwelling, which I did; and placing
               the Trees or Stakes in a double Row, at about eight Yards distance from my first
               Fence, they grew presently, and were at first a fine Cover to my Habitation, and
               afterward serv'd for a Defence also, as I shall observe <ref target="order_" corresp="order">in its Order</ref>.<note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="order" target="order_" type="gloss">Crusoe will relate the adventure
                  alluded to here in due course, later in the text</note>
            </p>
            <p>I found now, That the Seasons of the Year might generally be divided, not into
                  <hi rend="italic">Summer</hi> and <hi rend="italic">Winter,</hi> as in <hi rend="italic">Europe</hi>; but into the Rainy
               Seasons, and the Dry Seasons, which were generally thus, </p>
            <p>
                            <lg type="list">
                  <l>Half <hi rend="italic">February,</hi> Rainy, the <hi rend="italic">Sun</hi> being then on, or near the
                        <hi rend="italic">Equinox.</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="italic">March,</hi> Rainy, the <hi rend="italic">Sun</hi> being then on, or near the
                        <hi rend="italic">Equinox.</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l>Half <hi rend="italic">April,</hi> Rainy, the <hi rend="italic">Sun</hi> being then on, or near the
                        <hi rend="italic">Equinox.</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l>Half <hi rend="italic">April,</hi> Dry, the <hi rend="italic">Sun</hi> being then to the <hi rend="italic">North</hi>
                     of the Line.</l>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="italic">May,</hi> Dry, the <hi rend="italic">Sun</hi> being then to the <hi rend="italic">North</hi> of the
                     Line.</l>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="italic">June,</hi> Dry, the <hi rend="italic">Sun</hi> being then to the <hi rend="italic">North</hi> of the
                     Line.</l>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="italic">July,</hi> Dry, the <hi rend="italic">Sun</hi> being then to the <hi rend="italic">North</hi> of the
                     Line.</l>
                  <l>Half <hi rend="italic">August,</hi> Dry, the <hi rend="italic">Sun</hi> being then to the <hi rend="italic">North</hi>
                     of the Line.</l>
                 
                     <pb n="125"/>
               <l>Half <hi rend="italic">August,</hi> Rainy, the
                        <hi rend="italic">Sun</hi> being then come back.</l>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="italic">September,</hi> Rainy, the <hi rend="italic">Sun</hi> being then come back.</l>
                  <l>Half <hi rend="italic">October,</hi> Rainy, the <hi rend="italic">Sun</hi> being then come back.</l>
                  <l>Half <hi rend="italic">October,</hi> Dry, the <hi rend="italic">Sun</hi> being then to the
                        <hi rend="italic">South</hi> of the Line.</l>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="italic">November,</hi> Dry, the <hi rend="italic">Sun</hi> being then to the <hi rend="italic">South</hi> of
                     the Line.</l>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="italic">December,</hi> Dry, the <hi rend="italic">Sun</hi> being then to the <hi rend="italic">South</hi> of
                     the Line.</l>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="italic">January,</hi> Dry, the <hi rend="italic">Sun</hi> being then to the <hi rend="italic">South</hi> of the
                     Line.</l>
                  <l>Half <hi rend="italic">February,</hi> Dry, the <hi rend="italic">Sun</hi> being then to the
                        <hi rend="italic">South</hi> of the Line.</l>
               </lg>
            </p>
            <p>The Rainy Season sometimes held longer or shorter, as the Winds happen'd to blow; but
               this was the general Observation I made: After I had found by Experience, the ill
               Consequence of being abroad in the Rain. I took Care to furnish my self with
               Provisions before hand, that I might not be oblig'd to go out; and I sat within Doors
               as much as possible during the wet Months.</p>
            <p>This Time I found much Employment, (and very suitable also to the Time) for I found
               great Occasion of many Things which I had no way to furnish my self with, but by hard
               Labour and constant Application; particularly, I try'd many
               Ways to make my self a Basket, but all the Twigs I could get for the Purpose prov'd
               so brittle, that they would do nothing. It prov'd of excellent Advantage to me now, That when I was a Boy, I used to take
               great Delight in standing at a <hi rend="italic">Basket-makers,</hi> in the Town where my Father
               liv'd, to see them make their <hi rend="italic">Wicker-ware</hi>; and being as Boys usually are,
               very officious to help, and a great Observer of the Manner how they work'd those
               Things, and sometimes lending a Hand, I had by this Means full Knowledge of the
               Methods of it, that I wanted nothing but the Materials; when it came into my Mind,
               That the Twigs of that Tree from whence I cut my Stakes that grew, <pb n="126"/> might possibly be as tough as the <hi rend="italic">Sallows,</hi>
               and <hi rend="italic">Willows,</hi> and <hi rend="italic">Osiers</hi> in <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> and I resolv'd to
               try.</p>
            <p>Accordingly the next Day, I went to my Country-House, as I
               call'd it, and cutting some of the smaller Twigs, I found them to my Purpose as much
               as I could desire; whereupon I came the next Time prepar'd with a Hatchet to cut down
               a Quantity, which I soon found, for there was great Plenty of them; these I set up to
               dry within my Circle or Hedge, and when they were fit for Use, I carry'd them to my
               Cave, and here during the next Season, I employ'd my self in making, <hi rend="italic">as well as I
                  could,</hi> a great many Baskets, both to carry Earth, or to carry or lay up any
               Thing as I had occasion; and tho' I did not finish them very handsomly, yet I made them sufficiently serviceable for my
               Purpose; and thus afterwards I took Care never to be without
               them; and as my <hi rend="italic">Wicker-ware</hi> decay'd, I made more, especially, I made strong
               deep Baskets to place my Corn in, instead of Sacks, when I should come to have any
               Quantity of it.</p>
            <p>Having master'd this Difficulty, and employ'd a World of Time about it, I bestirr'd
               my self to see if possible how to supply two Wants: I had no Vessels to hold any
               Thing that was Liquid, except two Runlets which were almost
               full of Rum, and some Glass-Bottles, some of the common Size, and others which were
                  <ref target="casebottle_" corresp="casebottle">Case-Bottles-Square</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="casebottle" target="casebottle_" type="gloss">A bottle with a square-shaped base, often used for gin</note>, for
               the holding of Waters, Spirits, <hi rend="italic">&amp;c.</hi> I had not so much as a Pot to boil
               any Thing, except a great Kettle, which I sav'd out of the Ship, and which was too
               big for such Use as I desir'd it, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> To make Broth, and stew a Bit of Meat
               by it self. The Second Thing I would <ref target="fain2_" corresp="fain2">fain</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="fain2" target="fain2_" type="gloss">Eagerly, gladly</note> have had, was a Tobacco-Pipe; but it was
               impossible to me to <pb n="127"/> make one, however, I
               found a Contrivance for that too at last.</p>
            <p>I employ'd my self in Planting my Second Rows of Stakes or Piles and in this
                  <hi rend="italic">Wicker</hi> working all the Summer, or dry Season, when another Business took
               me up more Time than it could be imagin'd I could spare.</p>
            <head> <ref target="Audio10_" corresp="Audio10">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio10" target="Audio10_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_10_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            <p>I mention'd before, That I had a great Mind to see the whole Island, and that I had
               travell'd up the Brook, and so on to where I built my Bower, and where I had an
               Opening quite to the Sea on the other Side of the Island; I now resolv'd to travel
               quite Cross to the Sea-Shore on that Side; so taking my Gun, a Hatchet, and my Dog,
               and a larger Quantity of Powder and Shot than usual, with two Bisket Cakes, and a
               great Bunch of Raisins in my Pouch for my Store, I began my Journey; when I had
               pass'd the Vale where my Bower stood as above, I came within View of the Sea, to the
                  <hi rend="italic">West,</hi> and it being a very clear Day, I fairly descry'd Land, whether an
               Island or a Continent, I could not tell; but it lay very high, extending from the
                  <hi rend="italic">West,</hi> to the <ref target="wsw_" corresp="wsw">W. S. W.</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="wsw" target="wsw_" type="gloss">West-southwest</note> at a very great Distance; by my Guess it could not be less
               than Fifteen or Twenty Leagues of.</p>
            <p>I could not tell what Part of the World this might be, otherwise than that I know it
               must be Part of <hi rend="italic">America,</hi> and as I concluded by all my Observations, must be
               near the <ref target="dominions_" corresp="dominions">Spanish</ref> Dominions<note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="dominions" target="dominions_" type="gloss">Spain's colonies at this time included Venezuela and Colombia, so
                  Crusoe's island is probably located off the northern coast of South
                  America.</note>, and perhaps was all Inhabited by Savages, where if I should have
               landed, I had been in a worse Condition than I was now; and therefore I acquiesced in the Dispositions of Providence, which I began now to own, and to believe, order'd every Thing for the
               best; I say, I quieted my Mind with this, and left afflicting my self with Fruitless
               Wishes of being there.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="128"/>Besides, after some Pause upon this Affair, I
               consider'd, that if this Land was the <hi rend="italic">Spanish</hi> Coast, I should certainly, one
               Time or other, see some Vessel pass or re-pass one Way or other; but if not, then it
               was the <hi rend="italic">Savage</hi> Coast between the <hi rend="italic">Spanish</hi> Country and
                  <hi rend="italic">Brasils,</hi> which are indeed the worst of <hi rend="italic">Savages</hi>; for they are
                  <ref target="cannibal_" corresp="cannibal">Cannibals</ref>, or Men-eaters<note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="cannibal" target="cannibal_" type="gloss">The portrayal of aboriginal cultures as savage or alien has an ample precedent:
                  Herodotus describes a mythical race of man-eating "androphagi," and Shakespeare's
                  Othello talks of encountering "The Cannibals that each other eat, / The
                  Anthropophagi and men whose heads / Do grow beneath their shoulders"
                  (I.iii.143-145)</note>, and fail not to murther and devour all the humane Bodies
               that fall into their Hands.</p>
            <p>With these Considerations I walk'd very leisurely forward, I
               found that Side of the Island where I now was, much pleasanter than mine, the open or
                  <hi rend="italic">Savanna</hi> Fields sweet, adorn'd with Flowers and Grass, and full of very
               fine Woods. I saw Abundance of Parrots, and fain I would
               have caught one, if possible to have kept it to be tame, and taught it to speak to
               me. I did, after some Pains taking, catch a young Parrot, for I knock'd it down with
               a Stick, and having recover'd it, I brought it home; but it was some Years before I
               could make him speak: However, at last I taught him to call me by my Name very
               familiarly: But the Accident that follow'd, tho' it be a
               Trifle, will be very diverting in its Place.</p>
            <p>I was exceedingly diverted with this Journey: I found in the low Grounds Hares, as I
               thought them to be, and Foxes, but they differ'd greatly from all the other Kinds I
               had met with; nor could I satisfy my self to eat them, tho' I kill'd several: But I
               had no Need to be ventrous; for I had no Want of Food, and of that which was very
               good too; especially these three Sorts, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> Goats, Pidgeons, and Turtle or Tortoise; which, added to my Grapes,
                  <ref target="leadenhall_" corresp="leadenhall">Leaden-hall</ref> Market <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="leadenhall" target="leadenhall_" type="gloss">A covered market in Gracechurch Street, London, dating from the
                  fourteenth century</note> could not have furnish'd a
               Table better than I, in Proportion to the Company; and tho' my Case was deplorable
                  enough, yet I had great Cause for Thankfulness, <pb n="129"/> that I was not driven to any Extremities for
               Food; but rather Plenty, even to Dainties.</p>
            <p>I never travell'd in this Journey above two Miles outright in a Day, or thereabouts;
               but I took so many Turns and Returns, to see what Discoveries I could make, that I
               came weary enough to the Place where I resolv'd to sit down for all Night; and then I
               either repos'd my self in a Tree, or surrounded my self with
               a Row of Stakes set upright in the Ground, either from one Tree to another, or so as
               no wild Creature could come at me, without waking me.</p>
            <p>As soon as I came to the Sea Shore, I was surpriz'd to see
               that I had taken up my Lot on the worst Side of the Island; for here indeed the Shore
               was cover'd with innumerable Turtles, whereas on the other Side I had found but three
               in a Year and half. Here was also an infinite Number of Fowls, of many Kinds, some
               which I had seen, and some which I had not seen of before, and many of them very good
               Meat; but such as I knew not the Names of, except those call'd <ref target="penguin_" corresp="penguin">Penguins.</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="penguin" target="penguin_" type="gloss">Humboldt penguins are a species
                  native to Chile and Peru</note>
            </p>
            <p>I could have shot as many as I pleas'd, but was very sparing of my Powder and Shot;
               and therefore had more Mind to kill a she Goat, if I could, which I could better feed
               on; and though there were many Goats here more than on my Side the Island, yet it was
               with much more Difficulty that I could come near them, the Country being flat and
               even, and they saw me much sooner than when I was on the Hill.</p>
            <p>I confess this Side of the Country was much pleasanter than mine, but yet I had not
               the least Inclination to remove; for as I was fix'd in my Habitation, it became natural to me, and I seem'd all the while I was here, to be as
               it were upon a Journey, and from Home: However, I travell'd
               along <pb n="130"/> the Shore of the Sea, towards the
                  <hi rend="italic">East,</hi> I suppose about twelve Miles; and then setting up a great Pole upon
               the Shore for a Mark, I concluded I would go Home again; and that the next Journey I
               took should be on the other Side of the Island, <hi rend="italic">East</hi> from my Dwelling, and
               so round till I came to my Post again: Of which in its Place.</p>
            <p>I took another Way to come back than that I went, thinking I could easily keep all
               the Island so much in my View, that I could not miss finding my first Dwelling by
               viewing the Country; but I found my self mistaken; for being come about two or three
               Miles, I found my self descended into a very large Valley; but so surrounded with
               Hills, and those Hills cover'd with Wood, that I could not see which was my Way by
               any Direction but that of the Sun, nor even then, unless I knew very well the
               Position of the Sun at that Time of the Day.</p>
            <p>It happen'd to my farther Misfortune, That the Weather prov'd hazey for three or four
               Days, while I was in this Valley; and not being able to see the Sun, I wander'd about
               very uncomfortably, and at last was oblig'd to find out the Sea Side, look for my
               Post, and come back the same Way I went; and then by easy Journies I turn'd Homeward,
               the Weather being exceeding hot, and my Gun, Ammunition,
               Hatchet, and other Things very heavy.</p>
            <p>In this Journey my Dog surpriz'd a young Kid, and seiz'd upon it, and I running in to
               take hold of it, caught it, and sav'd it alive from the Dog: I had a great Mind to
               bring it Home if I could; for I had often been musing, Whether it might not be
               possible to get a Kid or two, and so raise a Breed of tame Goats, which might supply
               me when my Powder and Shot should be all spent.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="131"/>I made a Collar to this little Creature, and
               with a String which I made of some Rope-Yarn, which I always carry'd about me, I led
               him along, tho' with some Difficulty, till I came to my Bower, and there I enclos'd
               him, and left him; for I was very impatient to be at Home, from whence I had been
               absent above a Month.</p>
            <p>I cannot express what a Satisfaction it was to me, to come into my old Hutch, and lye
               down in my Hamock-Bed: This little wandring Journey, without settled Place of Abode,
               had been so unpleasant to me, that my own House, as I call'd
               it to my self, was a perfect Settlement to me, compar'd to
               that; and it rendred every Thing about me so comfortable, that I resolv'd I would
               never go a great Way from it again, while it should be my Lot to stay on the
               Island.</p>
            <p>I repos'd my self here a Week, to rest and regale my self after my long Journey;
               during which, most of the Time was taken up in the weighty Affair of making a Cage
               for my <ref target="poll_" corresp="poll">Poll</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="poll" target="poll_" type="gloss">So
                  Crusoe names his parrot (a shortened form of "Polly")</note>, who began now to be
               a meer Domestick, and to be mighty well acquainted with me. Then I began to think of
               the poor Kid, which I had penn'd in within my little Circle, and resolv'd to go and
               fetch it Home, or give it some Food; accordingly I went, and found it where I left
               it; for indeed it could not get out, but almost starv'd for want of Food: I went and
               cut Bows of Trees, and Branches of such Shrubs as I could find, and threw it over,
               and having fed it, I ty'd it as I did before, to lead it away; but it was so tame
               with being hungry, that I had no need to have ty'd it; for it follow'd me like a Dog;
               and as I continually fed it, the Creature be&gt;came so loving, so gentle, and so fond,
               that it became from that Time one of my Domesticks also, and would never leave me
               afterwards.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="132"/>The rainy Season of the <ref target="equinox_" corresp="equinox">Autumnal Equinox</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="equinox" target="equinox_" type="gloss">Occurring between September 22-24,
                  depending on the year</note> was now come, and I kept the 30th of <hi rend="italic">Sept.</hi>
               in the same solemn Manner as before, being the Anniversary
               of my Landing on the Island, having now been there two Years, and no more Prospect of
               being deliver'd, than the first Day I came there. I spent the whole Day in humble and
               thankful Acknowledgments of the many wonderful Mercies which my Solitary Condition
               was attended with, and without which it might have been infinitely more miserable. I
               gave humble and hearty Thanks that God had been pleas'd to discover to me, even that
               it was possible I might be more happy in this Solitary Condition, than I should have
               been in a Liberty of Society, and in all the Pleasures of the World. That he could
               fully make up to me, the Deficiencies of my Solitary State, and the want of Humane
                  Society by his Presence, and the Communications of his
               Grace to my Soul, supporting, comforting, and encouraging me to depend upon his
               Providence here, and hope for his Eternal Presence hereafter.</p>
            <p>It was now that I began sensibly to feel how much more happy this Life I now led was,
               with all its miserable Circumstances, than the wicked, cursed, abominable Life I led
               all the past Part of my Days; and now I chang'd both my Sorrows and my Joys; my very
               Desires alter'd, my Affections chang'd their Gusts, and my
               Delights were perfectly new, from what they were at my first Coming, or indeed for the two Years past.</p>
            <p>Before, as I walk'd about, either on my Hunting, or for
               viewing the Country; the Anguish of my Soul at my Condition, would break out upon me
               on a sudden, and my very Heart would die within me, to think of the Woods, the
               Mountains, the Desarts I was in; and how I was a Prisoner lock'd up with the Eternal
               Bars and Bolts of the <pb n="133"/> Ocean, in an
               uninhabited Wilderness, without Redemption: In the midst of
               the greatest Composures of my Mind, this would break out upon me like a Storm, and
               make me wring my Hands, and weep like a Child: Sometimes it would take me in the
               middle of my Work, and I would immediately sit down and sigh, and look upon the
               Ground for an Hour or two together; and this was still worse to me; for if I could
               burst out into Tears, or vent my self by Words, it would go off, and the Grief having
               exhausted it self would abate.</p>
            <p>But now I began to exercise my self with new Thoughts; I daily read the Word of God,
               and apply'd all the Comforts of it to my present State: One
               Morning being very sad, I open'd the Bible upon these Words, <ref target="hebrews_" corresp="hebrews">I will never, never leave thee, nor forsake thee</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="hebrews" target="hebrews_" type="gloss">Hebrews 13:5</note>; immediately it occurr'd, That these Words were to me, Why
               else should they be directed in such a Manner, just at the
               Moment when I was mourning over my Condition, as one forsaken of God and Man? Well
               then, said I, if God does not forsake me, of what ill Consequence can it be, or what
               matters it, though the World should all forsake me, seeing on the other Hand, if I
               had all the World, and should lose the Favour and Blessing
               of God, there wou'd be no Comparison in the Loss.</p>
            <p>From this Moment I began to conclude in my Mind, That it was possible for me to be
               more happy in this forsaken Solitary Condition, than it was probable I should ever
               have been in any other Particular State in the World; and with this Thought I was
               going to give Thanks to God for bringing me to this Place.</p>
            <p>I know not what it was, but something shock'd my Mind at that Thought, and I durst
               not speak the Words: How canst thou be such a Hypocrite, <pb n="134"/> (said I, even audibly) to pretend to be thankful for a
               Condition, which however thou may'st endeavour to be
               contented with, thou would'st rather pray heartily to be deliver'd from; so I stopp'd
               there: But though I could not say, I thank'd God for being there; yet I sincerely
               gave Thanks to God for opening my Eyes, by whatever afflicting Providences, to see
               the former Condition of my Life, and to mourn for my Wickedness, and repent. I never open'd the Bible, or shut it, but my very Soul
               within me, bless'd God for directing my Friend in <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> without any Order
               of mine, to pack it up among my Goods; and for assisting me afterwards to save it out
               of the Wreck of the Ship.</p>
            <p>Thus, and in this Disposition of Mind, I began my third Year; and tho' I have not
               given the Reader the Trouble of so particular Account of my
               Works this Year as the first; yet in General it may be observ'd, That I was very
               seldom idle; but having regularly divided my Time, according to the several daily
               Employments that were before me, such as, <hi rend="italic">First,</hi> My Duty to God, and the
                  Reading the Scriptures, which I constantly set apart some
               Time for thrice every Day. <hi rend="italic">Secondly,</hi> The going Abroad with my Gun for Food,
               which generally took me up three Hours in every Morning, when it did not Rain.
                  <hi rend="italic">Thirdly,</hi> The ordering, curing, preserving, and cooking what I had kill'd
               or catch'd for my Supply; these took up great Part of the Day; also it is to be
               considered that the middle of the Day when the Sun was in the <hi rend="italic">Zenith,</hi> the
               Violence of the Heat was too great to stir out; so that about four Hours in the Evening was all the Time I could be suppos'd to work in;
               with this Exception, That sometimes I chang'd my Hours of
               Hunting and Working, and went to work in the <pb n="135"/>
               Morning, and Abroad with my Gun in the Afternoon.</p>
            <p>To this short Time allow'd for Labour, I desire may be added the exceeding
               Laboriousness of my Work; the many Hours which for want of Tools, want of Help, and
               want of Skill; every Thing I did, took up out of my Time: For Example, I was full two
               and forty Days making me a Board for a long Shelf, which I wanted in my Cave; whereas
               two Sawyers with their Tools, and a Saw-Pit, would have cut six of them out of the
               same Tree in half a Day.</p>
            <p>My Case was this, It was to be a large Tree, which was to be cut down, because my
               Board was to be a broad one. This Tree I was three Days a cutting down, and two more
               cutting off the Bows, and reducing it to a Log, or Piece of Timber. With inexpressible hacking and hewing I reduc'd both
               the Sides of it into Chips, till it begun to be light enough
               to move; than I turn'd it, and made one Side of it smooth, and flat, as a Board from
               End to End; then turning that Side downward, cut the other Side, till I brought the
               Plank to be about three Inches thick, and smooth on both Sides. Any one may judge the
               Labour of my Hands in such a Piece of Work; but Labour and Patience carry'd me
               through that and many other Things: I only observe this in Particular, to shew, The
               Reason why so much of my Time went away with so little Work, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> That what
               might be a little to be done with Help and Tools, was a vast Labour, and requir'd a
               prodigious Time to do alone, and by hand.</p>
            <p>But notwithstanding this, with Patience and Labour I went through many Things; and
               indeed every Thing that my Circumstances made necessary to
               me to do, as will appear by what follows.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="136"/>I was now, in the Months of <hi rend="italic">November</hi>
               and <hi rend="italic">December,</hi> expecting my Crop of Barley and Rice.
               The Ground I had manur'd or dug up for them was not great; for as I observ'd, my Seed
               of each was not above the Quantity of half a Peck; for I had lost one whole Crop by
               sowing in the dry Season; but now my Crop promis'd very well, when on a sudden I
               found I was in Danger of losing it all again by Enemies of
               several Sorts, which it was scarce possible to keep from it; as First, The Goats, and
               wild Creatures which I call'd Hares, who tasting the Sweetness of the Blade, lay in
               it Night and Day, as soon as it came up, and eat it so close, that it could get no
               Time to shoot up into Stalk.</p>
            <p>This I saw no Remedy for, but by making an Enclosure about it with a Hedge, which I
               did with a great deal of Toil; and the more, because it requir'd Speed. However, as
               my Arable Land was but small, suited to my Crop, I got it totally well fenc'd, in
               about three Weeks Time; and shooting some of the Creatures in the Day Time, I set my
               Dog to guard it in the Night, tying him up to a Stake at the Gate, where he would
               stand and bark all Night long; so in a little Time the Enemies forsook the Place, and
               the Corn grew very strong, and well, and began to ripen
               apace.</p>
            <p>But as the Beasts ruined me before, while my Corn was in the Blade; so the Birds were
               as likely to ruin me now, when it was in the Ear; for going
               along by the Place to see how it throve, I saw my little Crop surrounded with Fowls
               of I know not how many sorts, who stood as it were watching
               till I should be gone: I immediately let fly among them (for
               I always had my Gun with me) I had no sooner shot but there rose up a a little <pb n="137"/> Cloud of Fowls, which I had not seen at all,
               from among the Corn it self.</p>
            <p>This touch'd me sensibly, for I foresaw, that in a few Days they would devour all my
               Hopes, that I should be starv'd, and never be able to raise a Crop at all, and what
               to do I could not tell: However I resolv'd not to loose my Corn, if possible, tho' I
               should watch it Night and Day. In the first Place, I went among it to see what Damage
               was already done, and found they had spoil'd a good deal of it, but that as it was
               yet too Green for them, the Loss was not so great, but that the Remainder was like to be a good Crop if it could be sav'd.</p>
            <p>I staid by it to load my Gun, and then coming away I could easily see the Thieves
               sitting upon all the Trees about me, as if they only waited till I was gone away, and
               the Event proved it to be so; for as I walk'd off as if I was gone, I was no sooner
               out of their sight, but they dropt down one by one into the Corn again. I was so
               provok'd that I could not have Patience to stay till more came on, knowing that every
               Grain that they eat now, was, <hi rend="italic">as it might be said,</hi> a <ref target="peckloaf_" corresp="peckloaf">Peck-loaf</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="peckloaf" target="peckloaf_" type="gloss">A two-gallon loaf; Crusoe's crop
                  is so small to begin with, that every grain the birds eat is a significant
                  loss</note> to me in the Consequence; but coming up to the Hedge, I fir'd again,
               and kill'd three of them. This was what I wish'd for; so I took them up, and serv'd
               them <ref target="served_" corresp="served">as we serve notorious Thieves in
                     <hi rend="italic">England</hi>, (viz.) Hang'd them in Chains for a Terror to others
                  </ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="served" target="served_" type="gloss">As late as the eighteenth century, the heads of executed criminals
                  were displayed on pikes at the southern gatehouse of London bridge.</note>; it is
               impossible to imagine almost, that this should have such an Effect, as it had; for
               the Fowls wou'd not only not come at the Corn, but in short they forsook all that
               Part of the Island, and I could never see a Bird near the Place as long as my
               Scare-Crows hung there.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="138"/>This I was very glad of, you may be sure, and
                  about the latter end of <hi rend="italic">December,</hi> which was our
                  second Harvest of the Year, I reap'd my Crop.</p>
            <p>I was sadly put to it for a Scythe or a Sicle to cut it down, and all I could do was
               to make one as well as I could out of one of the Broad Swords or Cutlasses, which I
               sav'd among the Arms out of the Ship. However, as my first Crop was but small I had
               no great Difficulty to cut it down; in short, I reap'd it my Way, for I cut nothing
               off but the Ears, and carry'd it away in a great Basket which I had made, and so
               rubb'd it out with my Hands; and at the End of all my Harvesting, I found that out of
               my half Peck of Seed, I had near two Bushels of Rice, and above two Bushels and half
               of Barley, <hi rend="italic">that is to say,</hi> by my Guess, for I had
               no Measure at that time.</p>
            <p>However, this was a great Encouragement to me, and I foresaw that in time, it wou'd
               please God to supply me with Bread: And yet here I was perplex'd again, for I neither
               knew how to grind or make Meal of my Corn, or indeed how to clean it and part it; nor
               if made into Meal, how to make Bread of it, and if how to make it, yet I knew not how
               to bake it; these things being added to my Desire of having a good Quantity for
               Store, and to secure a constant Supply, I resolv'd not to taste any of this Crop but
               to preserve it all for Seed against the next Season, and in the mean time to employ
               all my Study and Hours of Working to accomplish this great
               Work of Providing my self with Corn and Bread.</p>
            <p>It might be truly said, that now I work'd for my Bread; 'tis a little wonderful, and
               what I believe few People have thought much upon,
                  (<hi rend="italic">viz.</hi>) the strange multitude of little Things necessary in the <pb n="139"/> Providing, Producing, Curing, Dressing, Making
               and Finishing this one Article of Bread.</p>
            <p>I that was reduced to a meer State of Nature, found this to my daily Discouragement,
               and was made more and more sensible of it every Hour, even after I had got the first
               Handful of Seed-Corn, which, as I have said, came up unexpectedly, and indeed to a surprize.</p>
            <p>First, I had no Plow to turn up the Earth, no Spade or Shovel to dig it. Well, this I
               conquer'd, by making a wooden Spade, as I observ'd before; but this did my Work in
               but a wooden manner, and tho' it cost me a great many Days to make it, yet for want
               of Iron it not only wore out the sooner, but made my Work the harder, and made it be
               perform'd much worse.</p>
            <p>However this I bore with, and was content to work it out with Patience, and bear with
               the badness of the Performance. When the Corn was sow'd, I
               had no <ref target="harrow_" corresp="harrow">Harrow</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="harrow" target="harrow_" type="gloss">A
                  very large frame set with iron teeth that is dragged over arable land to break up
                  clods of earth</note>, but was forced to go over it my
               self and drag a great heavy Bough of a Tree over it, to Scratch it, as it may be
               call'd, rather than Rake or Harrow it.</p>
            <p>When it was growing and grown, I have observ'd already, how
               many things I wanted, to Fence it, Secure it, Mow or Reap it, Cure and Carry it Home,
                  <ref target="thrash_" corresp="thrash">Thrash</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="thrash" target="thrash_" type="gloss">Threshing, or the process of separating the seeds of corn from the husks</note>,
               Part it from the Chaff, and Save it. Then I wanted a Mill to Grind it, Sieves to
               Dress it, Yeast and Salt to make it into Bread, and an Oven to bake it, and yet all
               these things I did without, as shall be observ'd; and yet the Corn was an inestimable
               Comfort and Advantage to me too. All this, as I said, made
               every thing laborious and tedious to me, but that there was no help for; neither was
               my time so much Loss to me, because as I had divided it, a certain Part of it was
               every Day appointed to <pb n="140"/> these Works; and as I
               resolv'd to use none of the Corn for Bread till I had a greater Quantity by me, I had
               the next six Months to apply my self wholly by Labour and Invention to furnish my
               self with Utensils proper for the performing all the Operations necessary for the
               making the Corn (when I had it) fit for my use.</p>
            <head> <ref target="Audio11_" corresp="Audio11">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio11" target="Audio11_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_11_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            <p>But first, I was to prepare more Land, for I had now Seed enough to sow above an Acre
               of Ground. Before I did this, I had a Weeks-work at least to make me a Spade, which
               when it was done was but a sorry one indeed, and very heavy, and requir'd double
               Labour to work with it; however I went thro' that, and sow'd my Seed in two large
               flat Pieces of Ground, as near my House as I could find them <ref target="tomind_" corresp="tomind">to my Mind</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="tomind" target="tomind_" type="gloss">To my liking</note>, and fenc'd them
               in with a good Hedge, the Stakes of which were all cut of that Wood which I had set
               before, and knew it would grow, so that in one Year's time I knew I should have a
               Quick or Living-Hedge, that would want but little Repair. This Work was not so little
               as to take me up less than three Months, because great Part of that time was of the
               wet Season, when I could not go abroad.</p>
            <p>Within Doors, <hi rend="italic">that is,</hi> when it rained, and I could not go out, I found
               Employment on the following Occasions; always observing,
               that all the while I was at work I diverted my self with talking to my Parrot, and teaching him to Speak, and I quickly learn'd him to know his
               own Name, and at last to speak it out pretty loud POLL, which was the first Word I
               ever heard spoken in the Island by any Mouth but my own. This therefore was not my
               Work, but an <ref target="assistant_" corresp="assistant">assistant to my
                  Work</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="assistant" target="assistant_" type="gloss">Crusoe's conversations with the parrot are
                  recreational, rather than work</note>, for now, as I said, I had a great Employment upon my Hands, as follows, (<hi rend="italic">viz.</hi>) I had <pb n="141"/> long study'd by some Means or other, to make
               my self some Earthen Vessels, which indeed I wanted sorely, but knew not where to
               come at them: However, considering the Heat of the Climate,
               I did not doubt but if I could find out any such Clay, I might botch up some such
               Pot, as might, being dry'd in the Sun, be hard enough, and strong enough to bear
               handling, and to hold any Thing that was dry, and requir'd to be kept so; and as this
               was necessary in the preparing Corn, Meal, <hi rend="italic">&amp;c.</hi> which was the Thing I was
                  upon, I resolv'd to make some as large as I could, and
               fit only to stand like Jarrs to hold what should be put into them.</p>
            <p>It would make the Reader pity me, or rather laugh at me, to tell how many awkward
               ways I took to raise this Paste, what odd mishapen ugly things I made, how many of
               them fell in, and how many fell out, the Clay not being stiff enough to bear its own
               Weight; how many crack'd by the over violent Heat of the Sun, being set out too
               hastily; and how many fell in pieces with only removing, as
               well before as after they were dry'd; and in a word, how after having labour'd hard
               to find the Clay, to dig it, to temper it, to bring it home and work it; I could not
               make above two large earthen ugly things, I cannot call them Jarrs, in about two
               Months Labour.</p>
            <p>However, as the Sun bak'd these Two, very dry and hard, I lifted them very gently up,
               and set them down again in two great Wicker-Baskets which I had made on purpose for
               them, that they might not break, and as between the Pot and the Basket there was a
               little room to spare, I stuff'd it full of the Rice and Barley Straw, and these two
               Pots being to stand always dry, I thought would <pb n="142" facs="tcp:0653600100:146"/> hold my dry Corn, and perhaps the Meal, when the Corn was <ref target="bruised_" corresp="bruised">bruised</ref>. <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="bruised" target="bruised_" type="gloss">Ground</note>
            </p>
            <p>Tho' I miscarried so much in my Design for large Pots, yet I made several smaller
               things with better Success, such as little round Pots, flat Dishes, Pitchers and <ref target="pipkin_" corresp="pipkin">Pipkins</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="pipkin" target="pipkin_" type="gloss">Small earthenware pots</note>, and any things my Hand turn'd to, and the Heat of
               the Sun bak'd them strangely hard.</p>
            <p>But all this would not answer my End, which was to get an earthen Pot to hold what
               was Liquid, and bear the Fire, which none of these could do.
               It happen'd after some time, making a pretty large Fire for cooking my Meat, when I
               went to put it out after I had done with it, I found a broken Piece of one of my Earthen-ware Vessels in the Fire, burnt as hard as a Stone,
               and red as a Tile. I was agreeably suppris'd to see it, and said to my self, that
               certainly they might be made to burn whole if they would burn broken.</p>
            <p>This set me to studying how to order my Fire, so as to make it burn me some Pots. I
               had no Notion of a Kiln, such as the Potters burn in, or of glazing them with Lead,
               tho' I had some Lead to do it with; but I plac'd three large Pipkins, and two or three Pots in a Pile one upon another, and
               plac'd my Fire-wood all round it with a great Heap of Embers under them, I ply'd the
               Fire with fresh Fuel round the out-side, and upon the top, till I saw the Pots in the
               inside red hot quite thro', and observ'd that they did not crack at all; when I saw
               them clear red, I let them stand in that Heat about 5 or 6 Hours, till I found one of
               them, tho' it did not crack, did melt or run, for the Sand which was mixed with the
               Clay melted by the violence of the Heat, and would have run into Glass if I had gone
               on, so I slack'd my Fire gradually till the Pots began to abate of the red <pb n="143"/> Colour, and watching them all Night, that I
               might not let the Fire abate too fast, in the Morning I had three very good, I will
               not say handsome Pipkins; and two other Earthen Pots, as
               hard burnt as cou'd be desir'd; and one of them perfectly glaz'd with the Running of
               the Sand.</p>
            <p>After this Experiment, I need not say that I wanted no sort of Earthen Ware for my
               Use; but I must needs say, as to the Shapes of them, they were very indifferent, as
               any one may suppose, when I had no way of making them; but as the Children make
               Dirt-Pies, or as a Woman would make Pies, that never learn'd to <ref target="past_" corresp="past">raise Past</ref>.<note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="past" target="past_" type="gloss">To make pastry</note>
            </p>
            <p>No Joy at a Thing of so mean a Nature was ever equal to mine, when I found I had made
               an Earthen Pot that would bear the Fire; and I had hardly Patience to stay till they
               were cold, before I set one upon the Fire again, with some Water in it, to boil me
               some Meat, which it did admirably well; and with a Piece of a Kid, I made some very
               good Broth, though I wanted Oatmeal, and several other Ingredients, requisite to make
               it so good as I would have had it been.</p>
            <p>My next Concern was, to get me a Stone Mortar, to stamp or beat some Corn in; for as
               to the Mill, there was no thought at arriving to that Perfection of Art, with one Pair of Hands. To supply this Want I was at a great Loss;
               for of all Trades in the World I was as perfectly unqualify'd for a Stone-cutter, as
               for any whatever; neither had I any Tools to go about it with. I spent many a Day to
               find out a great Stone big enough to cut hollow, and make fit for a Mortar, and could
               find none at all; except what was in the solid Rock, and which I had no way to dig or
               cut out; nor indeed were the Rocks in the Island of Hardness
                  sufficient, but were all of a sandy crumbling Stone, <pb n="144"/> which neither would bear the Weight of a heavy
               Pestle, or would break the Corn without filling it with Sand; so after a great deal
               of Time lost in searching for a Stone, I gave it over, and resolv'd to look out for a
               great Block of hard Wood, which I found indeed much easier; and getting one as big as
               I had Strength to stir, I rounded it, and form'd it in the Out-side with my Axe and
               Hatchet, and then with the Help of Fire, and infinite Labour, made a hollow Place in
               it, as the <hi rend="italic">Indians</hi> in <hi rend="italic">Brasil</hi> make their <hi rend="italic">Canoes.</hi> After
               this, I made a great heavy Pestle or Beater, of the Wood
               call'd the Iron-wood, and this I prepar'd and laid by <ref target="against_" corresp="against">against</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="against" target="against_" type="gloss">Until</note> I had my next Crop of
               Corn, when I propos'd to my self, to grind, or rather pound my Corn into Meal to make
               my Bread.</p>
            <p>My next Difficulty was to make a Sieve, or <ref target="search_" corresp="search">Search</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="search" target="search_" type="gloss">Searce; another word for a sieve</note>, to dress my
                  Meal<note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="bran" target="bran_" type="gloss">Separate the grain from the chaff</note>, and to <ref target="bran_" corresp="bran">part it from the Bran, and the Husk</ref>, without which I did not
               see it possible I could have any Bread. This was a most difficult Thing, so much as
               but to think on; for to be sure I had nothing like the necessary Thing to make it; I
               mean fine thin Canvas, or Stuff, to search the Meal through. And here I was at a full
               Stop for many Months; nor did I really know what to do;
               Linnen I had none left, but what was meer Rags; I had Goats Hair, but neither knew I how to weave it, or spin it; and had I known
               how, here was no Tools to work it with; all the Remedy that I found for this, was,
               That at last I did remember I had among the Seamens Cloaths which were sav'd out of
               the Ship, some Neckcloths of Callicoe, or Muslin; and with some Pieces of these, I
               made three small Sieves, but proper enough for the Work; and thus I made shift for
               some Years; how I did afterwards, I shall shew in its Place.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="145"/>The baking Part was the next Thing to be consider'd, and how I should make Bread when I came to have
               Corn; for first I had no <ref target="yeast_" corresp="yeast">Yeast</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="yeast" target="yeast_" type="gloss">While
                  yeast is necessary to make leavened bread rise, it is still possible to make
                  unleavened, flatter bread without it</note>; as to that Part, as there was no
               supplying the Want, so I did not concern my self much about it: But for an Oven, I
               was indeed in great Pain; at length I found out an Experiment for that also, which
               was this; I made some Earthen Vessels very broad, but not deep; that is to say, about
               two Foot Diameter, and not above nine Inches deep; these I
               burnt in the Fire, as I had done the other, and laid them by; and when I wanted to
               bake, I made a great Fire upon my Hearth, which I had pav'd with some square Tiles of
               my own making, and burning also; but I should not call them square.</p>
            <p>When the Fire-wood was burnt pretty much into Embers, or
               live Coals, I drew them forward upon this Hearth, so as to cover it all over, and
               there I let them lye, till the Hearth was very hot, then sweeping away all the
               Embers, I set down my Loaf, or Loaves, and whelming down the Earthen Pot upon them,
               drew the Embers all round the Out-side of the Pot, to keep in, and add to the Heat;
               and thus, as well as in the best Oven in the World, I bak'd my Barley Loaves, and
               became in little Time a meer Pastry-Cook into the Bargain; for I made my self several
               Cakes of the Rice, and <ref target="pudding_" corresp="pudding">Puddings</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="pudding" target="pudding_" type="gloss">In
                  Britain, pudding can refer to a number of sweet and savory dishes, including
                  desserts and various types of sausages made from entrails. Here, it refers to a
                  sweetened bread.</note>; indeed I made no Pies, neither had I any Thing to put
               into them, supposing I had, except the Flesh either of Fowls
               or Goats.</p>
            <p>It need not be wondred at, if all these Things took me up most Part of the third Year
               of my Abode here; for it is to be observ'd, That in the Intervals of these Things, I had my new Harvest and Husbandry
               to manage; for I reap'd my Corn in its Season, and carry'd it Home as well as I
               could, and laid it up in the Ear, in my large Baskets, till I had <pb n="146"/> Time to <ref target="rubitout_" corresp="rubitout">rub
                  it out</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="rubitout" target="rubitout_" type="gloss">To remove the seed from the husk</note>; for I had
               no Floor to thrash it on, or Instrument to thrash it with.</p>
            <p>And now indeed my Stock of Corn increasing, I really wanted to build my Barns bigger.
               I wanted a Place to lay it up in; for the Increase of the Corn now yielded me so
               much, that I had of the Barley about twenty Bushels, and of the Rice as much, or
               more; insomuch, that now I resolv'd to begin to use it freely; for my Bread had been
               quite gone a great while; Also I resolved to see what Quantity would be sufficient
               for me a whole Year, and to sow but once a Year.</p>
            <p>Upon the whole, I found that the forty Bushels of Barley and Rice, was much more than
               I could consume in a Year; so I resolv'd to sow just the same Quantity every Year,
               that I sow'd the last, in Hopes that such a Quantity would fully provide me with
               Bread, <hi rend="italic">&amp;c.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>All the while these Things were doing, you may be sure my Thoughts run many times
               upon the Prospect of Land which I had seen from the other Side of the Island, and I
               was not without secret Wishes that I were on Shore there, fancying the seeing the main Land, and in an inhabited Country, I might find
               some Way or other to convey my self farther, and perhaps at last find some Means of
               Escape.</p>
            <p>But all this while I made no Allowance for the Dangers of such a Condition, and how I
               might fall into the Hands of Savages, and perhaps such as I might have Reason to
               think far worse than the Lions and Tigers of
                  <hi rend="italic">Africa.</hi> That if I once came into their Power, I
               should run a Hazard more than a thousand to one of being kill'd, and perhaps of being eaten; for I had heard that the People of the
                  <hi rend="italic">Carribean</hi> Coast were Canibals, or Man-eaters; and I knew by the Latiude
               that I could not be far off <pb n="147"/> from that Shore.
               That suppose they were not Canibals, yet that they might
               kill me, as many <hi rend="italic">Europeans</hi> who had fallen into their Hands had been serv'd,
               even when they had been ten or twenty together; much more I that was but one, and
               could make little or no Defence: All these Things, I say,
               which I ought to have consider'd well of, and did cast up in my Thoughts afterwards,
               yet took up none of my Apprehensions at first; but my Head run mightily upon the
               Thought of getting over to the Shore.</p>
            <p>Now I wish'd for my Boy <hi rend="italic">Xury,</hi> and the long Boat, with the Shoulder of Mutton
               Sail, with which I sail'd above a thousand Miles on the Coast of <hi rend="italic">Africk</hi>; but
               this was in vain. Then I thought I would go and look at our Ship's Boat, which, as I
               have said, was blown up upon the Shore, a great Way in the Storm, when we were first
               cast away. She lay almost where she did at first, but not quite; and was turn'd by
               the Force of the Waves and the Winds almost Bottom upward, against a high Ridge of
               Beachy rough Sand; but no Water about her as before.</p>
            <p>If I had had Hands to have refitted her, and to have launch'd her into the Water, the
               Boat would have done well enough, and I might have gone back into the
                  <hi rend="italic">Brasils</hi> with her easily enough; but I might have foreseen, That I could
               no more turn her, and set her upright upon her Bottom, than I could remove the
               Island: However, I went to the Woods, and cut Levers and Rollers, and brought them to
               the Boat, resolv'd to try what I could do, suggesting to my self, That I if could but
               turn her down, I might easily repair the Damage she had receiv'd, and she would be a
               very good Boat, and I might go to Sea in her very easily.</p>
            <p>I spar'd no Pains indeed, in this Piece of fruitless Toil, and spent, I think, three
               or four Weeks about <pb n="148"/>
               it; at last finding it impossible to heave it up with my little Strength, I fell to
               digging away the Sand, to undermine it, and so to make it fall down, setting Pieces
               of Wood to thrust and guide it right in the Fall.</p>
            <p>But when I had done this, I was unable to stir it up again, or to get under it, much
               less to move it forward, towards the Water; so I was forc'd to give it over; and yet,
               though I gave over the Hopes of the Boat, my desire to venture over for the Main
               increased, rather than decreased, as the Means for it seem'd impossible.</p>
            <p>This at length put me upon thinking, Whether it was not possible to make my self a
                  <hi rend="italic">Canoe,</hi> or <ref target="periagua_" corresp="periagua">Periagua,</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="periagua" target="periagua_" type="gloss">A small, flat-bottomed Caribbean
                  boat similar to a canoe, but with a sail.</note> such as the Natives of those
               Climates make, even without Tools, or, as I might say, without Hands, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi>
               of the Trunk of a great Tree. This I not only thought possible, but easy, and pleas'd
               my self extreamly with the Thoughts of making it, and with my having much more
               Convenience for it than any of the <hi rend="italic">Negroes</hi> or <hi rend="italic">Indians</hi>; but not at
               all considering the particular Inconveniences which I lay
               under, more than the <hi rend="italic">Indians</hi> did, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> Want of Hands to move it,
               when it was made, into the Water, a Difficulty much harder for me to surmount, than
               all the Consequences of Want of Tools could be to them; for what was it to me, That
               when I had chosen a vast Tree in the Woods, I might with much Trouble cut it down, if
               after I might be able with my Tools to hew and dub the
               Out-side into the proper Shape of a Boat, and burn or cut out the In-side to make it
               hollow, so to make a Boat of it: If after all this, I must leave it just there where
               I found it, and was not able to launch it into the Water.</p>
            <p>One would have thought, I could not have had the least Reflection upon my Mind of my
                  Circumstance, <pb n="149"/>
               while I was making this Boat; but I should have immediately thought how I should get
               it into the Sea; but my Thoughts were so intent upon my
               Voyage over the Sea in it, that I never once consider'd how I should get it off of
               the Land; and it was really in its own Nature more easy for me to guide it over forty
               five Miles of Sea, than about forty five Fathom of Land, where it lay, to set it a
               float in the Water.</p>
            <p>I went to work upon this Boat, the most like a Fool, that ever Man did, who had any
               of his Senses awake. I pleas'd my self with the Design, without determining whether I was ever able to undertake it;
               not but that the Difficulty of launching my Boat came often into my Head; but I put a
               stop to my own Enquiries into it, by this foolish Answer which I gave my self,
                  <hi rend="italic">Let's first make it, I'll warrant I'll find some Way or other to get it along,
                  when 'tis done.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>This was a most preposterous Method; but the Eagerness of my Fancy prevail'd, and to
               work I went. I fell'd a Cedar Tree: I question much whether <ref target="solomon_" corresp="solomon">Solomon</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="solomon" target="solomon_" type="gloss">Solomon, King of Israel and Judah,
                  was said to have built a great temple to Yahweh, which housed the Ark of the
                  Covenant and was destroyed by Nebuchadnezzar II during the Siege of Jerusalem (587
                  B.C.)</note> ever had such a One for the Building of the
               Temple at <hi rend="italic">Jerusalem.</hi> It was five Foot ten Inches Diameter at the lower Part
               next the Stump, and four Foot eleven Inches Diameter at the End of twenty two Foot,
               after which it lessen'd for a while, and then parted into
               Branches: It was not without infinite Labour that I fell'd this Tree: I was twenty
               Days hacking and hewing at it at the Bottom. I was fourteen
               more getting the Branches and Limbs, and the vast spreading Head of it cut off, which I hack'd and hew'd through
               with Axe and Hatchet, and inexpressible Labour: After this, it cost me a Month to
               shape it, and dub it to a Proportion, and to something like the Bottom of a Boat,
               that it might swim upright <pb n="150"/> as it ought to do. It cost me near three Months more
               to clear the In-side, and work it out so, as to make an exact Boat of it: This I did
                  indeed without Fire, by meer Malett and Chissel, and by
               the dint of hard Labour, till I had brought it to be a very handsome
                  <hi rend="italic">Periagua,</hi> and big enough to have carry'd six and twenty Men, and
               consequently big enough to have carry'd me and all my Cargo.</p>
            <p>When I had gone through this Work, I was extremely delighted
               with it. The Boat was really much bigger than I ever saw a <hi rend="italic">Canoe,</hi> or
                     <hi rend="italic">Periagua,</hi> that was made of one Tree, in my
               Life. Many a weary Stroke it had cost, you may be sure; and
               there remain'd nothing but to get it into the Water; and had I gotten it into the
               Water, I make no question but I should have began the maddest Voyage, and the most
               unlikely to be perform'd, that ever was undertaken.</p>
            <p>But all my Devices to get it into the Water fail'd me; tho' they cost me infinite
               Labour too. It lay about one hundred Yards from the Water, and not more: But the
               first Inconvenience was, it was up Hill towards the Creek; well, to take away this Discouragement, I resolv'd to dig into the Surface
               of the Earth, and so make a <ref target="declivity_" corresp="declivity">Declivity</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="declivity" target="declivity_" type="gloss">A downward slope, so that the boat might slide
                  down into the water.</note>: This I begun, and it cost me a prodigious deal of
               Pains; but who grutches Pains, that have their Deliverance in View: But when this was
               work'd through, and this Difficulty manag'd, it was still much at one; for I could no
               more stir the <hi rend="italic">Canoe,</hi> than I could the other Boat.</p>
            <p>Then I measur'd the Distance of Ground, and resolv'd to cut a Dock, or Canal, to
               bring the Water up to the <hi rend="italic">Canoe,</hi> seeing I could not
               bring the <hi rend="italic">Canoe</hi> down to the Water: Well, I began this Work, and when I began
               to enter into it, and calculate how deep it was to be dug,
               how broad, <pb n="151"/> how the Stuff to be thrown out, I
               found, That by the Number of Hands I had, being none but my own, it must have been
               ten or twelve Years before I should have gone through with it; for the Shore lay
               high, so that at the upper End, it must have been at least twenty Foot Deep; so at
               length, tho' with great Reluctancy, I gave this Attempt over
               also.</p>
            <p>This griev'd me heartily, and now I saw, tho' too late, the Folly of beginning a Work
               before we count the Cost; and before we judge rightly of our own Strength to go
               through with it.</p>
            <p>In the middle of this Work, I finish'd my fourth Year in this Place, and kept my
               Anniversary with the same Devotion, and with as much Comfort as ever before; for by a
               constant Study, and serious Application of the Word of God, and by the Assistance of his Grace, I gain'd a different Knowledge from what I had before. I entertain'd different Notions of Things. I look'd now upon the World as a
               Thing remote, which I had nothing to do with, no Expectation from, and indeed no Desires about: In a Word, I had nothing indeed to do with it,
               nor was ever like to have; so I thought it look'd as we may perhaps look upon it
               hereafter, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> as a Place I had liv'd in, but was come out of it; and well
               might I say, as Father <ref target="abraham_" corresp="abraham">Abraham</ref> to
                  <hi rend="italic">Dives<note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="abraham" target="abraham_" type="gloss">According to one of Christ's parables, a rich man dies and goes to
                     hell, while Lazarus, the leper outside his gates, dies and is taken to
                     Abraham's bosom. When the rich man begs Abraham to send Lazarus down from
                     heaven to grant him reprieve from hellfire, Abraham refuses, telling him,
                     "Between us and you there is a great gulf fixed" (Luke 16:26). Crusoe places
                     himself in Abraham's position of spiritual transcendence over the rest of the
                     world.</note>, Between me and thee is a great Gulph fix'd.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>In the first Place, I was remov'd from all the Wickedness of the World here. I had
               neither the <hi rend="italic">Lust of the Flesh, the Lust of the Eye, or the Pride of Life.</hi> I
               had nothing to covet; for I had all that I was now capable of enjoying: I was Lord of
               the whole Mannor; or if I pleas'd, I might call my self King, or Emperor over the
               whole Country which I had Possession of. There were no Rivals. I had no Competitor,
               none to dispute Sovereignty or <pb n="152"/> Command with
               me. I might have rais'd Ship Loadings of Corn; but I had no use for it; so I let as
               little grow as I thought enough for my Occasion. I had Tortoise or Turtles enough;
               but now and then one, was as much as I could put to any use. I had Timber enough to
               have built a Fleet of Ships. I had Grapes enough to have made Wine, or to have cur'd
               into Raisins, to have loaded that Fleet, when they had been built.</p>
            <p>But all I could make use of, was, All that was valuable. I had enough to eat, and to
               supply my Wants, and, what was all the rest to me? If I kill'd more Flesh than I
               could eat, the Dog must eat it, or the Vermin. If I sow'd more Corn than I could eat,
               it must be spoil'd. The Trees that I cut down, were lying to rot on the Ground. I
               could make no more use of them than for <ref target="fuel_" corresp="fuel">Fewel</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="fuel" target="fuel_" type="gloss">Fuel</note>; and that I had no Occasion for, but to <ref target="dress_" corresp="dress">dress</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="dress" target="dress_" type="gloss">Cook</note> my Food.</p>
            <p>In a Word, The Nature and Experience of Things dictated to me upon just Reflection,
               That all the good Things of this World, are no farther good to us, than they are for
               our Use; and that whatever we may heap up indeed to give others, we enjoy just as
               much as we can use, and no more. The most covetous griping Miser in the World would
               have been cur'd of the Vice of Covetousness, if he had been in my Case; for I
               possess'd infinitely more than I knew what to do with. I had no room for Desire,
               except it was of Things which I had not, and they were but Trifles, though indeed of
               great Use to me. I had, as I hinted before, a Parcel of
               Money, as well Gold as Silver, about thirty six Pounds Sterling: Alas! There the
               nasty sorry useless Stuff lay; I had no manner of Business for it; and I often
               thought with my self, That I would have given a Handful of it for a <ref target="gross_" corresp="gross">Gross</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="gross" target="gross_" type="gloss">A square dozen, or 144 of
                  something</note> of <pb n="153"/> Tobacco-Pipes, or for
               a Hand-Mill to grind my Corn; nay, I would have given it all for Sixpenny-worth of
                  <hi rend="italic">Turnip</hi> and <hi rend="italic">Carrot</hi> Seed out of <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> or for a Handful
               of <hi rend="italic">Pease</hi> and <hi rend="italic">Beans,</hi> and a Bottle of Ink: <hi rend="italic">As it was,</hi> I had
               not the least Advantage by it, or Benefit from it; but there it lay in a Drawer, and
               grew mouldy with the Damp of the Cave, in the wet Season; and if I had had the Drawer
               full of Diamonds, it had been the same Case; and they had been of no manner of Value
               to me, because of no Use.</p>
            <p>I had now brought my State of Life to be much easier in it self than it was at first,
               and much easier to my Mind, as well as to my Body. I frequently sat down to my Meat
               with Thankfulness, and admir'd the Hand of God's Providence,
               which had thus spread my Table in the Wilderness. I learn'd to look more upon the
               bright Side of my Condition, and less upon the dark Side;
               and to consider what I enjoy'd, rather than what I wanted; and this gave me sometimes
               such secret Comforts, that I cannot express them; and which I take Notice of here, to
               put those discontented People in Mind of it, who cannot enjoy comfortably what God
               has given them; because they see, and covet something that
               he has not given them: All our Discontents about what we
               want, appear'd to me, to spring from the <ref target="want_" corresp="want">Want</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="want" target="want_" type="gloss">Lack</note> of Thankfulness for what we have.</p>
            <p>Another Reflection was of great Use to me, and doubtless would be so to any one that
               should fall into such Distress as mine was; and this was, To compare my present
               Condition with what I at first expected it should be; nay, with what it would
               certainly have been, if the good Providence of God had not wonderfully order'd the
               Ship to be cast up nearer to the Shore, where I not only could <pb n="154"/> come at her, but could bring what I got out of her to
               the Shore, for my Relief and Comfort; without which, I had wanted for Tools to work,
               Weapons for Defence, or Gun-Powder and Shot for getting my Food.</p>
            <p>I spent whole Hours, I may say whole Days, in representing to my self in the most
               lively Colours, how I must have acted, if I had got nothing out of the Ship. How I
               could not have so much as got any Food, except Fish and Turtles; and that as it was
               long before I found any of them, I must have perish'd first. That I should have
               liv'd, if I had not perish'd, like a meer Savage. That if I had kill'd a Goat, or a
               Fowl, by any Contrivance, I had no way to <ref target="flay_" corresp="flay">flea</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="flay" target="flay_" type="gloss">To flay or skin them</note> or open them, or part the Flesh from the
               Skin, and the Bowels, or to cut it up; but must gnaw it with my Teeth, and pull it
               with my Claws like a Beast.</p>
            <p>These Reflections made me very sensible of the Goodness of Providence to me, and very
               thankful for my present Condition, with all its Hardships and Misfortunes: And this
               Part also I cannot but recommend to the Reflection of those, who are apt in their
               Misery to say, <hi rend="italic">Is any Affliction like mine!</hi> Let them consider, How much
               worse the Cases of some People are, and their Case might have been, if Providence had
               thought fit.</p>
            <p>I had another Reflection which assisted me also to comfort my Mind with Hopes; and
               this was, comparing my present Condition with what I had deserv'd, and had therefore
               Reason to expect from the Hand of Providence. I had liv'd a dreadful Life, perfectly
               destitute of the Knowledge and Fear of God. I had been well instructed by Father and
               Mother; <ref target="wanting_" corresp="wanting">neither had they been wanting to
                  me</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="wanting" target="wanting_" type="gloss">Neither had they failed</note>, in their early Endeavours, to infuse
               a religious Awe of God into my Mind, a Sense of my Duty, and <pb n="155"/> of what the Nature and End of my Being, requir'd of
               me. But alas! falling early into the Seafaring Life, which of all the Lives is the
               most destitute of the Fear of God, though his Terrors are always before them; I say, falling early into the Seafaring Life, and into Seafaring
               Company, all that little Sense of Religion which I had entertain'd, was laugh'd out
               of me by my Mess-Mates, by a harden'd despising of Dangers; and the Views of Death,
               which grew habitual to me; by my long Absence from all Manner of Opportunities to
                  converse with any thing but what was like my self, or to
               hear any thing that was good, or tended towards it.</p>
            <p>So void was I of every Thing that was good, or of the least Sense of what I was, or
               was to be, that in the greatest Deliverances I enjoy'd, such as my Escape from
                  <hi rend="italic">Sallee</hi>; my being taken up by the <hi rend="italic">Portuguese</hi> Master of the Ship;
               my being planted so well in the <hi rend="italic">Brasils</hi>; my
               receiving the Cargo from <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> and the like; I never had once the Word
                  <hi rend="italic">Thank God,</hi> so much as on my Mind, or in my Mouth; nor in the greatest
               Distress, had I so much as a Thought to pray to him, or so much as to say, <hi rend="italic">Lord
                  have Mercy upon me</hi>; no nor to mention the Name of God, unless it was to swear
               by, and blaspheme it.</p>
            <p>I had terrible Reflections upon my Mind for many Months, as I have already observ'd,
               on the Account of my wicked and hardned Life past; and when I look'd about me and
               considered what particular Providences had attended me since
               my coming into this Place, and how God had dealt bountifully with me; had not only punished me less than my
               Iniquity had deserv'd, but had so plentifully provided for
               me; this gave me great hopes that my <pb n="156"/>
               Repentance was accepted, and that God had yet Mercy in store for me.</p>
            <p>With these Reflections I work'd my Mind up, not only to Resignation to the Will of
               God in the present Disposition of my Circumstances; but even to a sincere
               Thankfulness for my Condition, and that I who was yet a living Man, ought not to
                  complain, seeing I had not the due Punishment of my Sins;
               that I enjoy'd so many Mercies which I had no reason to have expected in that Place;
               that I ought never more to repine at my Condition but to rejoyce, and to give daily
                  <ref target="dailybread_" corresp="dailybread">Thanks for that daily
                  Bread</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="dailybread" target="dailybread_" type="gloss">An echo of a line from the Lord's Prayer: "Give
                  us this day our daily bread . . ."</note>, which nothing but a Croud of Wonders
               could have brought. That I ought to consider I had been fed even by Miracle, even as
               great as that of feeding <ref target="elijah_" corresp="elijah">Elijah</ref> by
               Ravens <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="elijah" target="elijah_" type="gloss">God, displeased with the pagan practices of the Israelite king Ahab,
                  sends the prophet Elijah to tell him that a great drought will be inflicted on
                  Israel as punishment. When Ahab grows angry with Elijah, God commands Elijah to
                  hide in the wilderness and sends the ravens to bring him food (1 Kings
                  17:1-6).</note>; nay, by a long Series of Miracles, and
               that I could hardly have nam'd a Place in the unhabitable Part of the World where I
               could have been cast more to my Advantage: A Place, where as I had no Society, which
               was my Affliction on one Hand, so I found no ravenous Beast, no furious Wolves or
               Tygers to threaten my Life, no venomous Creatures or poisonous, which I might feed on
               to my Hurt, no Savages to murther and devour me.</p>
            <p>In a word, as my Life was a Life of Sorrow, one way, so it was a Life of Mercy,
               another; and I wanted nothing to make it a Life of Comfort, but to be able to make my
               Sence of God's Goodness to me, and Care over me in this Condition, be my daily
               Consolation; and after I did make a just Improvement of these things, I went away and
               was no more sad.</p>
            <p>I had now been here so long, that many Things which I brought on Shore for my Help,
               were either quite gone, or very much wasted and near spent.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="157"/>My Ink, as I observed, had been gone some
               time, all but a very little, which I eek'd out with Water a
               little and a little, till it was so pale it scarce left any Appearance of black upon
               the Paper: As long as it lasted, I made use of it to minute down the Days of the
               Month on which any remarkable Thing happen'd to me, and
               first by casting up Times past: I remember that there was a strange Concurrence of
               Days, in the various Providences which befel me; and which,
               if I had been superstitiously inclin'd to observe Days as Fatal or Fortunate, I might
               have had Reason to have look'd upon with a great deal of Curiosity.</p>
            <p>First I had observed, that the same Day that I broke away from my Father and my
               Friends, and run away to <placeName type="tgn" key="7013053">
                                <hi rend="italic">Hull,</hi>
                            </placeName> in order to go to Sea; the same Day
               afterwards I was taken by the Sally Man of War, and made a Slave.</p>
            <p>The same Day of the Year that I escaped out of the Wreck of that Ship in
                  <hi rend="italic">Yarmouth</hi> Rodes, that same Day-Year afterwards I made my escape from
                  <hi rend="italic">Sallee</hi> in the Boat.</p>
            <p>The same Day of the Year I was born on (<hi rend="italic">viz.</hi>) the 30<hi rend="italic">th</hi> of
                  <hi rend="italic">September,</hi> that same Day, I had my Life so miraculously saved 26 Year
               after, when I was cast on Shore in this Island, so that my wicked Life, and my
               solitary Life begun both on a Day.</p>
            <p>The next Thing to my Ink's, being wasted, was that of my Bread, I mean the Bisket
               which I brought out of the Ship, this I had husbanded to the last degree, allowing my
               self but one Cake of Bread a Day for above a Year, and yet I was quite without Bread
               for near a Year before I got any Corn of my own, and great Reason I had to be
               thankful that I had any at all, the getting it being, as has been already observed,
               next to miraculous.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="158"/>My Cloaths began to decay too mightily: As to
               Linnen, I had had none a good while, except some chequer'd Shirts which I found in
               the Chests of the other Seamen, and which I carefully preserved, because many times I could bear no other Cloaths on but a
               Shirt; and it was a very great help to me that I had among all the Men's Cloaths of
               the Ship almost three dozen of Shirts. There were also several thick Watch Coats of the Seamens, which were left indeed, but they were too
               hot to wear; and tho' it is true, that the Weather was so violent hot, that there was
               no need of Cloaths, yet I could not go quite naked; no, tho' I had been inclin'd to
               it, which I was not, nor could not abide the thoughts of it, tho' I was all
               alone.</p>
            <p>The Reason why I could not go quite naked, was, I could not bear the heat of the Sun
               so well when quite naked, as with some Cloaths on; nay, the very Heat frequently
               blistered my Skin; whereas with a Shirt on, the Air itself made some Motion and
               whistling under that Shirt was twofold cooler than without it, no more could I ever
               bring my self to go out in the heat of Sun, without a Cap or a Hat; the heat of the
               Sun beating with such Violence as it does in that Place, would give me the Head-ach
               presently, by darting so directly on my Head, without a Cap or Hat on, so that I
               could not bear it, whereas, if I put on my Hat, it would presently go away.</p>
            <p>Upon those Views I began to consider about putting the few
               Rags I had, which I call'd Cloaths, into some Order; I had worn out all the
               Wast-coats I had, and my Business was now to try if I could not make Jackets out of
               the great Watch-Coats which I had by me, and with such other Materials as I had, so I
               set to Work a Taylering, or rather indeed a Botching, for I made most <pb n="159"/> piteous Work of it. However, I <ref target="shift_" corresp="shift">made shift</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="shift" target="shift_" type="gloss">Contrived (ie. a makeshift
                  waistcoat)</note> to make two or three new Wastcoats, which I hoped wou'd serve me
               a great while; as for Breeches or Drawers, I made but a very sorry shift indeed, till
               afterward.</p>
            <p>I have mentioned that I saved the Skins of all the Creatures that I kill'd, I mean
               four-footed ones, and I had hung them up stretch'd out with Sticks in the Sun, by
               which means some of them were so dry and hard that they were fit for little, but
               others it seems were very useful. The first thing I made of these was a great Cap for
               my Head, with the Hair on the out Side to shoor off the Rain; and this I perform'd so
               well, that after this I made me a Suit of Cloaths wholly of these Skins, that is to
               say, a Wastcoat, and Breeches open at Knees, and both loose, for they were rather
               wanting to keep me cool than to keep me warm. I must not omit to acknowledge that
               they were wretchedly made; for if I was a bad <hi rend="italic">Carpenter,</hi> I was a worse
                  <hi rend="italic">Tayler.</hi> However, they were such as I made very good shift with; and when
               I was abroad, if it happen'd to rain, the Hair of my Wastcoat and Cap being
               outermost, I was kept very dry.</p>
            <p>After this I spent a great deal of Time and Pains to make me an Umbrella; I was
               indeed in great want of one, and had a great Mind to make one; I had seen them made
               in the <hi rend="italic">Brasils,</hi> where they are very useful in the great Heats which are
               there. And I felt the Heats every jot as great here, and greater too, being nearer
               the Equinox; besides, as I was oblig'd to be much abroad, it was a most useful thing
               to me, as well for the Rains as the Heats. I took a world of Pains at it, and was a
               great while before I could make any thing likely to hold; nay, after I thought I had
               hit the Way, I spoil'd 2 or 3 before I made one to my Mind; but <pb n="160"/> at last I made one that <ref target="answer_" corresp="answer">answer'd</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="answer" target="answer_" type="gloss">Served the need</note> indifferently
               well: The main Difficulty I found was to make it to let down. I could make it to
               spread, but if it did not let down too, and draw in, it was not portable for me any
               Way but just over my Head, which wou'd not do. However, at last, as I said, I made
               one to answer, and covered it with Skins, the Hair upwards, so that it cast off the
               Rains like a Penthouse, and kept off the Sun so effectually,
               that I could walk out in the hottest of the Weather with greater Advantage than I
               could before in the coolest, and when I had no need of it, cou'd close it and carry
               it under my Arm.</p>
            <p>Thus I liv'd mighty comfortably, my Mind being entirely
               composed by resigning to the Will of God, and throwing my self wholly upon the Disposal of his Providence. This made my Life better than sociable, for when I began to regret the want of
               Conversation, I would ask my self whether thus conversing mutually with my own
               Thoughts, and, as I hope I may say, with even God himself by Ejaculations, was not
               better than the utmost Enjoyment of humane Society in the World.</p>
            <head> <ref target="Audio12_" corresp="Audio12">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio12" target="Audio12_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_12_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            <p>I cannot say that after this, for five Years, any extraordinary thing happened to me,
               but I liv'd on in the same Course, in the same Posture and Place, just as before; the
               chief things I was employ'd in, besides my yearly Labour of planting my Barley and
               Rice, and curing my Raisins, of both which I always kept up
               just enough to have sufficient Stock of one Year's Provisions beforehand. I say,
               besides this yearly Labour, and my daily Labour of going out with my Gun, I had one
               Labour to make me a Canoe, which at last I finished. So that by digging a Canal to it of six Foot wide, and four Foot deep, I
               brought it into the Creek, almost half a Mile. As for the first, which was so vastly
               big, <pb n="161"/> as I made it without considering
               before-hand, as I ought to do, how I should be able to launch it; so never being able
               to bring it to the Water, or bring the Water to it, I was oblig'd to let it lye where
               it was, as a <ref target="memorandum_" corresp="memorandum">Memorandum</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="memorandum" target="memorandum_" type="gloss">In Latin, literally "a thing that must be remembered"</note> to
               teach me to be wiser next Time: Indeed, the next Time, tho' I could not get a Tree
               proper for it, and in a Place where I could not get the Water to it, at any less
               Distance, than as I have said, near half a Mile; yet as I saw it was practicable at
               last, I never gave it over; and though I was near two Years about it, yet I never
               grutch'd my Labour, in Hopes of having a Boat to go off to Sea at last.</p>
            <p>However, though my little <hi rend="italic">Periagau</hi> was finish'd;
               yet the Size of it was not at all answerable to the Design which I had in View, when
               I made the first; I mean, Of venturing over to the <hi rend="italic">Terra Firma,</hi> where it was
               above forty Miles broad; accordingly, the Smallness of my
               Boat assisted to put an End to that Design, and now I thought no more of it: But as I
               had a Boat, my next Design was to make a Tour round the Island; for as I had been on
               the other Side, in one Place, crossing as I have already
               describ'd it, over the Land; so the Discoveries I made in
               that little Journey, made me very eager to see other Parts
               of the Coast; and now I had a Boat, I thought of nothing but sailing round the
               Island.</p>
            <p>For this Purpose, that I might do every Thing with Discretion and Consideration, I
               fitted up a little Mast to my Boat, and made a Sail to it, out of some of the Pieces
               of the Ship's Sail, which lay in store; and of which I had a great Stock by me.</p>
            <p>Having fitted my Mast and Sail, and try'd the Boat, I found she would sail very well:
               Then I made little Lockers, or Boxes, at either End of my Boat, to put Provisions,
               Necessaries and Ammunition, <pb n="162"/>
               <hi rend="italic">&amp;c.</hi> into, to be kept dry, either from Rain, or the Sprye of the Sea; and
               a little long hollow Place I cut in the In-side of the Boat, where I could lay my
               Gun, making a Flap to hang down over it to keep it dry.</p>
            <p>I fix'd my Umbrella also in a Step at the Stern, like a Mast, to stand over my Head,
               and keep the Heat of the Sun off of me like an Auning; and thus I every now and then
               took a little Voyage upon the Sea, but never went far out, nor far from the little
               Creek; but at last being eager to view the Circumference of my little Kingdom, I
               resolv'd upon my Tour, and accordingly I victuall'd my Ship for the Voyage, putting
               in two Dozen of my Loaves <ref target="cake_" corresp="cake">(Cakes I should rather
                  call them)</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="cake" target="cake_" type="gloss">Because they are unleavened</note> of Barley
               Bread, an Earthen Pot full of parch'd Rice, a Food I eat a great deal of, a little
               Bottle of Rum, half a Goat, and Powder and Shot for killing more, and two large
               Watch-coats, of those which, as I mention'd before, I had sav'd out of the Seamen's
               Chests; these I took, one to lye upon, and the other to
               cover me in the Night.</p>
            <p>It was the sixth of <hi rend="italic">November,</hi> in the sixth Year of my Reign, or my
               Captivity, which you please, That I set out on this Voyage, and I found it much
               longer than I expected; for though the Island it self was not very large, yet when I
               came to the <hi rend="italic">East</hi> Side of it, I found a great Ledge of Rocks lye out above
               two Leagues into the Sea, some above Water, some under it;
               and beyond that, a Shoal of Sand, lying dry half a League more; so that I was oblig'd
               to go a great Way out to Sea to double the Point.</p>
            <p>When first I discover'd them, I was going to give over my Enterprise, and come back
               again, not knowing how far it might oblige me to go out to Sea; and above all,
               doubting how I should get back <pb n="163"/> again; so I
               came to an Anchor; for I had made me a kind of an Anchor with a Piece of a broken
                  <ref target="graplin_" corresp="graplin">Graplin</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="graplin" target="graplin_" type="gloss">Grappling-iron</note>, which I got out of the Ship.</p>
            <p>Having secur'd my Boat, I took my Gun, and went on Shore, climbing up upon a Hill,
               which seem'd to over-look that Point, where I saw the full Extent of it, and resolv'd
               to venture.</p>
            <p>In my viewing the Sea from that Hill where I stood, I perceiv'd a strong, and indeed,
               a most furious Current, which run to the <hi rend="italic">East,</hi> and
               even came close to the Point; and I took the more Notice of
               it, because I saw there might be some Danger; that when I
               came into it, I might be carry'd out to Sea by the Strength of it, and not be able to
               make the Island again; and indeed, had I not gotten first up upon this Hill, I
               believe it would have been so; for there was the same Current on the other Side the
               Island, only, that it set off at a farther Distance; and I saw there was a strong
               Eddy under the Shore; so I had nothing to do but to get in out of the first Current,
               and I should presently be in an Eddy.</p>
            <p>I lay here, however, two Days; because the Wind blowing pretty fresh at <ref target="ese_" corresp="ese">E. S. E.</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="ese" target="ese_" type="gloss">East-southeast</note> and that being just
               contrary to the said Current, made a great Breach of the Sea upon the Point; so that
               it was not safe for me to keep too close to the Shore for the Breach, nor to go too
               far off because of the Stream.</p>
            <p>The third Day in the Morning, the Wind having abated over
               Night, the Sea was calm, and I ventur'd; but I am a warning Piece again, to all rash
               and ignorant Pilots; for no sooner was I come to the Point, when even I was not my
               Boat's Length from the Shore, but I found my self in a great Depth of Water, and a
               Current like the Sluice of a Mill: It carry'd my Boat a long with it <pb n="164"/> with such Violence, That all I could do, could not
               keep her so much as on the Edge of it; but I found it hurry'd me farther and farther
               out from the Eddy, which was on my left Hand. There was no Wind stirring to help me,
               and all I could do with my Paddlers signify'd nothing, and now I began to give my
               self over for lost; for as the Current was on both Sides the
               Island, I knew in a few Leagues Distance they must joyn again, and then I was
               irrecoverably gone; nor did I see any Possibility of
               avoiding it; so that I had no Prospect before me but of
               Perishing; not by the Sea, for that was calm enough, but of starving for Hunger. I
               had indeed found a Tortoise on the Shore, as big almost as I could lift, and had
               toss'd it into the Boat; and I had a great Jar of fresh Water, that is to say, one of
               my Earthen Pots; but what was all this to being driven into the vast Ocean, where to
               be sure, there was no Shore, no main Land, or Island, for a
               thousand Leagues at least.</p>
            <p>And now I saw how easy it was for the Providence of God to
               make the most miserable Condition Mankind could be in
                  <hi rend="italic">worse.</hi> Now I look'd back upon my desolate solitary Island, as the most
               pleasant Place in the World, and all the Happiness my Heart could wish for, was to be
               but there again. I stretch'd out my Hands to it with eager
               Wishes. O happy Desart, said I, I shall never see thee more. O miserable Creature,
               said I, whether am I going: Then I reproach'd my self with
               my unthankful Temper, and how I had repin'd at my solitary Condition; and now what
               would I give to be on Shore there again. Thus we never see the true State of our
               Condition, till it is illustrated to us by its Contraries; nor know how to value what
               we enjoy, but by the want of it. It is scarce possible to imagine the Consternation I
               was now in, <pb n="165"/> being driven from my beloved
               Island (for so it appear'd to me now to be) into the wide
               Ocean, almost two Leagues, and in the utmost Despair of ever
               recovering it again. However, I work'd hard, till indeed my Strength was almost
               exhausted, and kept my Boat as much to the <hi rend="italic">Northward,</hi> that is, towards the
               Side of the Current which the Eddy lay on, as possibly I could; when about Noon, as
               the Sun pass'd the Meridian, I thought I felt a little
               Breeze of Wind in my Face, springing up from the <ref target="sse_" corresp="sse">S.
                  S. E.</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="sse" target="sse_" type="gloss">South-southeast</note> This chear'd my Heart a little, and especially
               when in about half an Hour more, it blew a pretty small gentle Gale. By this Time I
               was gotten at a frightful Distance from the Island, and had the least Cloud or haizy
               Weather interven'd, I had been undone another Way too; for I had no Compass on Board,
               and should never have known how to have steer'd towards the Island, if I had but once
               lost Sight of it; but the Weather continuing clear, I
               apply'd my self to get up my Mast again, spread my Sail, standing away to the
                  <hi rend="italic">North,</hi> as much as possible, to get out of the Current.</p>
            <p>Just as I had set my Mast and Sail, and the Boat began to stretch away, I saw even by
               the Clearness of the Water, some Alteration of the Current was near; for where the
               Current was so strong, the Water was foul; but perceiving
               the Water clear, I found the Current abate, and presently I found to the
                  <hi rend="italic">East,</hi> at about half a Mile, a Breach of the Sea upon some Rocks; these
               Rocks I found caus'd the Current to part again, and as the main Stress of it ran away
               more <hi rend="italic">Southerly,</hi> leaving the Rocks to the <hi rend="italic">North-East</hi>; so the other
               return'd by the Repulse of the Rocks, and made a strong Eddy, which run back again to
               the <hi rend="italic">North-West,</hi> with a very sharp Stream.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="166"/>They who know what it is to have a <ref target="reprieve_" corresp="reprieve">Reprieve brought to them upon the
                  Ladder</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="reprieve" target="reprieve_" type="gloss">To have a pardon granted a moment before
                  execution. (A criminal sentenced to hanging would have stood on a ladder with the
                  noose around his neck, and the executioner would kick the ladder out from beneath
                  his feet in order to hang him.)</note>, or to be rescued
               from Thieves just a going to murther them, or, who have been in such like
               Extremities, may guess what my present Surprise of Joy was, and how gladly I put my Boat into the Stream of this Eddy, and the Wind
               also freshning, how gladly I spread my Sail to it, running chearfully before the
               Wind, and with a strong Tide or Eddy under Eoot.</p>
            <p>This Eddy carryed me about a League in my Way back again directly towards the Island,
               but about two Leagues more to the Northward than the Current which carried me away at
               first; so that when I came near the Island, I found my self open to the Northern
               Shore of it, that is to say, the other End of the Island
               opposite to that which I went out from.</p>
            <p>When I had made something more than a League of Way by the help of this Current or
               Eddy, I found it was spent and serv'd me no farther. However, I found that being
               between the two great Currents, (<hi rend="italic">viz.</hi>) that on the South Side which had
               hurried me away, and that on the North which lay about a
               League on the other Side. I say between these two, in the wake of the Island, I found
               the Water at least still and running no Way, and having still a Breeze of Wind fair
               for me, I kept on steering directly for the Island, tho' not
               making such fresh Way as I did before.</p>
            <p>About four a-Clock in the Evening, being then within about a League of the Island, I
               found the Point of the Rocks which occasioned this Disaster, stretching out as is
               describ'd before to the Southward, and casting off the
               Current more Southwardly, had of Course made another Eddy to
               the North, and this I found very strong, but not directly setting the Way my Course
               lay which was due West, but <pb n="167"/> almost full
               North. However having a fresh Gale, I stretch'd a-cross this Eddy slanting
               North-west, and in about an Hour came within about a Mile of the Shore, where it
               being smooth Water, I soon got to Land.</p>
            <p>When I was on Shore I fell on my Knees and gave God Thanks for my Deliverance,
               resolving to lay aside all Thoughts of my Deliverance by my Boat, and refreshing my
               self with such Things as I had, I brought my Boat close to the Shore in a little Cove
               that I had spy'd under some Trees, and lay'd me down to sleep, being quite spent with
               the Labour and Fatigue of the Voyage.</p>
            <p>I was now at a great Loss which Way to get Home with my Boat, I had run so much
               Hazard, and knew too much the Case to think of attempting it
               by the Way I went out, and what might be at the other Side (I mean the West Side) I
               knew not, nor had I any Mind to run any more Ventures; so I only resolved in the
               Morning to make my Way Westward along the Shore and to see if there was no Creek
               where I might lay up my Frigate in Safety, so as to have her
               again if I wanted her; in about three Mile or thereabout coasting the Shore, I came
               to a very good Inlet or Bay about a Mile over, which narrowed till it came to a very
               little Rivulet or Brook, where I found a very convenient Harbour for my Boat and
               where she lay as if she had been in a little Dock made on Purpose for her. Here I put
               in, and having stow'd my Boat very safe, I went on Shore to look about me and see
               where I was.</p>
            <p>I soon found I had but a little past by the Place where I had been before, when I
               travell'd on Foot to that Shore; so taking nothing out of my Boat, but my Gun and my
               Umbrella, for it was exceeding hot, I began my March: The
               Way was comfortable enough after such a Voyage as I had <pb n="168"/> been upon, and I reach'd my old Bower in the Evening,
               where I found every thing standing as I left it; for I always kept it in good Order,
                  being, as I said before, my Country House.</p>
            <p>I got over the Fence, and laid me down in the Shade to rest my Limbs; for I was very
               weary, and fell asleep: But judge you, if you can, that read my Story, what a
               Surprize I must be in, when I was wak'd out of my Sleep by a Voice calling me by my
               Name several times, <hi rend="italic">Robin, Robin, Robin Crusoe,</hi> poor <hi rend="italic">Robin Crusoe,</hi>
               where are you <hi rend="italic">Robin Crusoe</hi>? Where are you? Where
               have you been?</p>
            <p>I was so dead asleep at first, being fatigu'd with Rowing, or Paddling, as it is
               call'd, the first Part of the Day, and with walking the latter Part, that I did not
               wake thoroughly, but dozing between sleeping and waking,
               thought I dream'd that some Body spoke to me: But as the Voice continu'd to repeat
                  <hi rend="italic">Robin Crusoe, Robin Crusoe,</hi> at last I began to wake more perfectly, and
               was at first dreadfully frighted, and started up in the utmost Consternation: But no sooner were my Eyes open, but I saw my <hi rend="italic">Poll</hi>
               sitting on the Top of the Hedge; and immediately knew that it was he that spoke to
               me; for just in such bemoaning Language I had used to talk to him, and teach him; and
               he had learn'd it so perfectly, that he would sit upon my Finger, and lay his Bill
               close to my Face, and cry, <hi rend="italic">Poor</hi> Robin Crusoe, <hi rend="italic">Where are you? Where have
                  you been? How come you here?</hi> And such things as I had taught him.</p>
            <p>However, even though I knew it was the Parrot, and that indeed it could be no Body
               else, it was a good while before I could compose my self: First, I was amazed how the
               Creature got thither, and then, how he should just keep about the Place, and no where
               else: But as I was well satisfied it <pb n="169"/> could be
               no Body but honest <hi rend="italic">Poll,</hi> I got it over; and holding out my Hand, and calling
               him by his Name <hi rend="italic">Poll,</hi> the sociable Creature came to me, and sat upon my
               Thumb, as he used to do, and continu'd talking to me, <hi rend="italic">Poor</hi> Robin Crusoe, and
                  <hi rend="italic">how did I come here?</hi> and <hi rend="italic">where had I been?</hi> just as if he had
               been overjoy'd to see me again; and so I carry'd him Home along with me.</p>
            <p>I had now had enough of rambling to Sea for some time, and had enough to do for many
               Days to sit still, and reflect upon the Danger I had been in: I would have been very
               glad to have had my Boat again on my Side of the Island; but I knew not how it was
               practicable to get it about as to the East Side of the Island, which I had gone
               round; I knew well enough there was no venturing that Way;
               my very heart would shrink, and my very Blood run chill but to think of it: And as to
               the other Side of the Island, I did not know how it might be there; but supposing the
               Current ran with the same Force against the Shore at the East as it pass'd by it on
               the other, I might run the same Risk of being driven down the Stream, and carry'd by
               the Island, as I had been before, of being carry'd away from it; so with these
               Thoughts I contented my self to be without any Boat, though it had been the Product
               of so many Months Labour to make it, and of so many more to get it unto the Sea.</p>
            <p>In this Government of my Temper, I remain'd near a Year, liv'd a very sedate retir'd
               Life, as you may well suppose; and my Thoughts being very much composed as to my
               Condition, and fully comforted in resigning my self to the Dispositions of Providence, I thought I liv'd really very happily in all things,
               except that of Society.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="170"/>I improv'd my self in this time in all the
                  mechanick Exercises which my Necessities put me upon
               applying my self to, and I believe cou'd, upon Occasion,
               make a very good <hi rend="italic">Carpenter,</hi> especially considering
               how few Tools I had.</p>
            <p>Besides this, I arriv'd at an unexpected Perfection in my
               Earthen Ware, and contriv'd well enough to make them with a Wheel, which I found
                  infinitely easyer and better; because I made things round
               and shapable, which before were filthy things indeed to look on. But I think I was
               never more vain of my own Performance, or more joyful for any thing I found out, than
               for my being able to make a Tobacco-Pipe. And tho' it was a very ugly clumsy thing, when it was done, and only burnt red like other Earthen Ware,
               yet as it was hard and firm, and would draw the Smoke, I was exceedingly comforted
               with it, for I had been always used to smoke, and there were
               Pipes in the Ship, but I forgot them at first, not knowing that there was Tobacco in
               the Island; and afterwards, when I search'd the Ship again, I could not come at any
               Pipes at all.</p>
            <p>In my Wicker Ware also I improved much, and made abundance of necessary Baskets, as
               well as my Invention shew'd me, tho' not very handsome, yet they were such as were
               very handy and convenient for my laying things up in, or
               fetching things home in. For Example, if I kill'd a Goat abroad, I could hang it up
               in a Tree, flea it, and dress it, and cut it in Pieces, and bring it home in a
               Basket, and the like by a Turtle, I could cut it up, take out the Eggs, and a Piece
               or two of the Flesh, which was enough for me, and bring them home in a Basket, and
               leave the rest behind me. Also large deep Baskets were my
                  Receivers for my Corn, which I always rubb'd out as <pb n="171"/> soon as it was dry, and cured, and kept it in
               great Baskets.</p>
            <p>I began now to perceive my Powder abated considerably, and
               this was a Want which it was impossible for me to supply,
               and I began seriously to consider what I must do when I should have no more Powder;
               that is to say, how I should do to kill any Goat, I had, as is observ'd in the third
               Year of my being here, kept a young Kid, and bred her up tame, and I was in hope of
               getting a He-Goat, but I could not by any Means bring it to pass, 'till my Kid grew
               an old Goat; and I could never find in my Heart to kill her, till she dy'd at last of
               meer Age.</p>
            <p>But being now in the eleventh Year of my Residence, and, as
               I have said, my Ammunition growing low, I set my self to
               study some Art to trap and snare the Goats, to see whether I could not catch some of
               them alive, and particularly I wanted a She-Goat great with young.</p>
            <p>To this Purpose I made Snares to hamper them, and I do believe they were more than
               once taken in them, but my Tackle was not good, for I had no Wire, and I always found
               them broken, and my Bait devoured.</p>
            <p>At length I resolv'd to try a Pit-fall, so I dug several
               large Pits in the Earth, in Places where I had observ'd the Goats used to feed, and
               over these Pits I plac'd Hurdles of my own making too, with a great Weight upon them;
               and several times I put Ears of Barley, and dry Rice, without setting the Trap, and I could easily perceive that the Goats
               had gone in and eaten up the Corn, for I could see the Mark of their Feet. At length
               I set three Traps in one Night, and going the next Morning I found them all standing,
               and yet the Bait eaten and gone: This was very discouraging. <pb n="172"/> However, I alter'd my Trap, and, not to trouble you
               with Particulars, going one Morning to see my Trap, I found in one of them a large
               old He-Goat, and in one of the other, three Kids, a Male and two Females.</p>
            <p>As to the old one, I knew not what to do with him, he was so fierce I durst not go
               into the Pit to him; that is to say, to go about to bring him away alive, which was
               what I wanted. I could have kill'd him, but that was not my Business, nor would it
               answer my End. So I e'en let him out, and he ran away as if he had been frighted out
               of his Wits: But I had forgot then what I learn'd afterwards, that Hunger will tame a Lyon. If I had let him stay there three or four
               Days without Food, and then have carry'd him some Water to drink, and then a little
               Corn, he would have been as tame as one of the Kids, for they are mighty sagacious
               tractable Creatures where they are well used.</p>
            <p>However, for the present I let him go, knowing no better at that time; then I went to
               the three Kids, and taking them one by one, I tyed them with Strings together, and
               with some Difficulty brought them all home.</p>
            <p>It was a good while before they wou'd feed, but throwing them some sweet Corn, it
               tempted them and they began to be tame; and now I found that if I expected to supply
               my self with Goat-Flesh when I had no Powder or Shot left, breeding some up tame was
               my only way, when perhaps I might have them about my House like a Flock of Sheep.</p>
            <p>But then it presently occurr'd to me, that I must keep the tame from the wild, or
               else they would always run wild when they grew up, and the
               only Way for this was to have some enclosed Piece of <pb n="173"/> Ground, well fenc'd either with Hedge or Pale, to keep
               them in so effectually, that those within might not break out, or those without break
               in.</p>
            <p>This was a great Undertaking for one Pair of Hands, yet as I saw there was an
               absolute Necessity of doing it, my first Piece of Work was
               to find out a proper Piece of Ground, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> where there was likely to be
               Herbage for them to eat, Water for them to drink, and Cover to keep them from the
               Sun.</p>
            <p>Those who understand such Enclosures will think I had very little <ref target="contrivance_" corresp="contrivance">Contrivance</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="contrivance" target="contrivance_" type="gloss">Foresight; planning or ingenuity</note>, when I pitch'd upon a Place
               very proper for all these, being a plain open Piece of
               Meadow-Land, or <hi rend="italic">Savanna,</hi> (as our People call it in the Western Collonies,)
               which had two or three little <ref target="drill_" corresp="drill">Drills</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="drill" target="drill_" type="gloss">Small
                  streams or rills</note> of fresh Water in it, and at one end was very woody. I say
                  <ref target="forecast_" corresp="forecast">they will smile at my
                  Forecast</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="forecast" target="forecast_" type="gloss">Crusoe's comical failure to anticipate that, the
                  larger his enclosure is, the harder it will be to catch the goats inside</note>,
               when I shall tell them I began my enclosing of this Piece of Ground in such a manner, that my Hedge or Pale must have been at least two Mile
               about. Nor was the Madness of it so great as to the Compass, for if it was ten Mile
                  about I was like to have time enough to do it in. But I
               did not consider that my Goats would be as wild in so much Compass as if they had had
               the whole Island, and I should have so much Room to chace them in, that I should
               never catch them.</p>
            <p>My Hedge was begun and carry'd on, I believe, about fifty Yards, when this Thought
               occurr'd to me, so I presently stopt short, and for the first beginning I resolv'd to
               enclose a Piece of about 150 Yards in length, and 100 Yards in breadth, which as it
               would maintain as many as I should have in any reasonable time, so as my Flock encreased, I could add more Ground to my Enclosure.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="174"/>This was acting with some Prudence, and I went
               to work with Courage. I was about three Months hedging in the first Piece, and till I
               had done it I tether'd the three Kids in the best part of it, and us'd them to feed
               as near me as possible to make them familiar; and very often I would go and carry them some Ears of Barley, or a handful of Rice, and feed
               them out of my Hand; so that after my Enclosure was finished, and I let them loose,
               they would follow me up and down, bleating after me for a handful of Corn.</p>
            <p>This answer'd my End, and in about a Year and half I had a Flock of about twelve
               Goats, Kids and all; and in two Years more I had three and forty, besides several
               that I took and kill'd for my Food. And after that I enclosed five several Pieces of Ground to feed them in, with little Pens to drive
               them into, to take them as I wanted, and Gates out of one Piece of Ground into another.</p>
            <p>But this was not all, for now I not only had Goats Flesh to feed on when I pleas'd,
               but Milk too, a thing which indeed in my beginning I did not so much as think of, and
               which, when it came into my Thoughts, was really an agreeable Surprize. For now I set up my Dairy, and had sometimes a Gallon or two of Milk in a Day, And as Nature, who
               gives Supplies of Food to every Creature, dictates even naturally how to make use of
               it; so I that had never milk'd a Cow, much less a Goat, or seen Butter or Cheese
               made, very readily and handily, tho' after a great many
               Essays and Miscarriages, made me both Butter and Cheese at last, and never wanted it
               afterwards.</p>
            <p>How mercifully can our great Creator treat his Creatures, even in those Conditions in
               which they seem'd to be overwhelm'd in Destruction. How <pb n="175"/> can he sweeten the bitterest Providences, and give us
               Cause to praise him for Dungeons and Prisons. <ref target="psalm78_" corresp="psalm78">What a Table was here spread for me in a Wilderness</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="psalm78" target="psalm78_" type="gloss">"Yea, they spake against God; they
                  said, Can God furnish a table in the wilderness?" (Psalm 78:19)</note>, where I
               saw nothing at first but to perish for Hunger.</p>
            <head> <ref target="Audio13_" corresp="Audio13">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio13" target="Audio13_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_13_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            <p>It would have made a Stoick smile to have seen, me and my little Family sit down to
               Dinner; there was my Majesty the Prince and Lord of the whole Island; I had the Lives
               of all my Subjects at my absolute Command. I could hang, draw, give Liberty, and take
               it away, and no Rebels among all my Sublects.</p>
            <p>Then to see how like a King I din'd too all alone, attended by my Servants,
                  <hi rend="italic">Poll,</hi> as if he had been my Favourite, was the only Person permitted to
               talk to me. My Dog who was now grown very old and <ref target="crazy_" corresp="crazy">crazy</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="crazy" target="crazy_" type="gloss">Feeble</note>, and had found no
               Species to multiply his Kind upon, sat always at my Right Hand, and two Cats, one on
               one Side the Table, and one on the other, expecting now and then a Bit from my Hand,
               as a Mark of special Favour.</p>
            <p>But these were not the two Cats which I brought on Shore at first, for they were both
               of them dead, and had been interr'd near my Habitation by my own Hand; but one of
               them having multiply'd by I know not what Kind of Creature, these were two which I
               had preserv'd tame, whereas the rest run wild in the Woods, and became indeed
               troublesom to me at last; for they would often come into my House, and plunder me
               too, till at last I was obliged to shoot them, and did kill a great many; at length
               they left me with this Attendance, and in this plentiful
               Manner I lived; neither could I be said to want any thing
               but Society, and of that in some time after this, I was like
               to have too much.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="176"/>I was something impatient, as I have observ'd,
               to have the Use of my Boat; though very loath to run any more Hazards; and therefore
               sometimes I sat contriving Ways to get her about the Island, and at other Times I sat
               my self down contented enough without her. But I had a
               strange Uneasiness in my Mind to go down to the Point of the Island, where, as I have
               said, in my last Ramble, I went up the Hill to see how the Shore lay, and how the
               Current set, that I might see what I had to do: This Inclination encreas'd upon me
               every Day, and at length I resolv'd to travel thither by Land, following the Edge of the Shore, I did so: But had any one in
                  <hi rend="italic">England</hi> been to meet such a Man as I was, it must either have frighted
               them, or rais'd a great deal of Laughter; and as I frequently stood still to look at
               my self, I could not but smile at the Notion of my travelling through
                  <hi rend="italic">Yorkshire</hi> with such an Equipage, and in such a Dress: Be pleas'd to take
               a Scetch of my Figure as follows,</p>
            <p>I had a great high shapeless Cap, made of a Goat's Skin, with a Flap hanging down
               behind, as well to keep the Sun from me, as to shoot the Rain off from running into
               my Neck; nothing being so hurtful in these Climates, as the Rain upon the Flesh under
               the Cloaths.</p>
            <p>I had a short Jacket of Goat-Skin, the Skirts coming down to
               about the middle of my Thighs; and a Pair of open-knee'd Breeches of the same, the
               Breeches were made of the Skin of an old <hi rend="italic">He-goat,</hi> whose Hair hung down such
               a Length on either Side, that like <ref target="pantaloon_" corresp="pantaloon">Pantaloons</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="pantaloon" target="pantaloon_" type="gloss">Breeches or trousers</note> it reach'd to the
               middle of my Legs; Stockings and Shoes I had none, but had made me a Pair of
               some-things, I scarce know what to call them, like <ref target="buskin_" corresp="buskin">Buskins</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="buskin" target="buskin_" type="gloss">Calf-high or knee-high boots</note>
               to flap over my Legs, and lace on either Side like <ref target="spatterdash_" corresp="spatterdash">Spatter-dashes</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="spatterdash" target="spatterdash_" type="gloss">Long gaiters or leggings
                  of leather, to keep boots and trousers from being spattered with mud</note>; <pb n="177"/> but of a most barbarous Shape, as indeed were
               all the rest of my Cloaths.</p>
            <p>I had on a broad Belt of Goat's-Skin dry'd, which I drew together with two <ref target="thong_" corresp="thong">Thongs</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="thong" target="thong_" type="gloss">Cords</note> of the same, instead of
               Buckles, and in a kind of a <ref target="frog_" corresp="frog">Frog</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="frog" target="frog_" type="gloss">A loop
                  attached to a belt, designed to hold a sword or bayonet</note> on either Side of
               this. Instead of a Sword and a Dagger, hung a little Saw and a Hatchet, one on one
               Side, one on the other. I had another Belt not so broad, and fasten'd in the same
               Manner, which hung over my Shoulder; and at the End of it, under my left Arm, hung
               two Pouches, both made of Goat's-Skin too; in one of which hung my Powder, in the
               other my Shot: At my Back I carry'd my Basket, on my Shoulder my Gun, and over my
               Head a great clumsy ugly Goat-Skin Umbrella, but which,
               after all, was the most necessary Thing I had about me, next to my Gun: As for my
               Face, the Colour of it was really not so <ref target="moletta_" corresp="moletta">Moletta,</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="moletta" target="moletta_" type="gloss">A variation of the word "mulatto," here used to
                  refer to brown skin</note> like as one might expect from a Man not at all careful of it, and living within nineteen Degrees of the
                  <hi rend="italic">Equinox.</hi> My Beard I had once suffer'd to grow till it was about a Quarter
               of a Yard long; but as I had both Scissars and Razors sufficient, I had cut it pretty short, except what grew on my upper Lip, which I had
               trimm'd into a large Pair of <ref target="whiskers_" corresp="whiskers">Mahometan</ref> Whiskers<note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="whiskers" target="whiskers_" type="gloss">A long moustache, such as a Muslim man might have worn</note>, such as I had seen
               worn by some <hi rend="italic">Turks,</hi> who I saw at <hi rend="italic">Sallee</hi>; for the <hi rend="italic">Moors</hi> did
               not wear such, tho' the <hi rend="italic">Turks</hi> did; of these <ref target="muschatoes_" corresp="muschatoes">Muschatoes</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="muschatoes" target="muschatoes_" type="gloss">Mustachios</note> or
               Whiskers, I will not say they were long enough to hang my Hat upon them; but they
               were of a Length and Shape monstrous enough, and such as in <hi rend="italic">England</hi> would
               have pass'd for frightful.</p>
            <p>But all this is by the by; for as to my Figure, I had so few to observe me, that it
               was of no manner of Consequence; so I say no more to that Part. In this kind of
               Figure I went my new Journey, and was out five or six Days. I travell'd first along
               the <pb n="178"/> Sea Shore, directly to the Place where I
               first brought my Boat to an Anchor, to get up upon the Rocks; and having no Boat now
               to take care of, I went over the Land a nearer Way to the
               same Height that I was upon before, when looking forward to the Point of the Rocks
               which lay out, and which I was oblig'd to double with my Boat, as is said above: I
               was surpriz'd to see the Sea all smooth and quiet, no Ripling, no Motion, no Current,
               any more there than in other Places.</p>
            <p>I was at a strange Loss to understand this, and resolv'd to spend some Time in the
               observing it, to see if nothing from the Sets of the Tide had occasion'd it; but I was presently convinc'd how it was,
                  <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> That the Tide of Ebb setting from the <hi rend="italic">West,</hi> and joyning
               with the Current of Waters from some great River on the Shore, must be the Occasion
               of this Current; and that according as the Wind blew more forcibly from the
                  <hi rend="italic">West,</hi> or from the <hi rend="italic">North,</hi> this Current came nearer, or went
               farther from the Shore; for waiting thereabouts till Evening, I went up to the Rock
               again, and then the Tide of Ebb being made, I plainly saw the Current again as before, only, that it run farther of, being near half a League
               from the Shore; whereas in my Case, it set close upon the Shore, and hurry'd me and
               my <hi rend="italic">Canoe</hi> along with it, which at another Time it would not have done.</p>
            <p>This Observation convinc'd me, That I had nothing to do but
               to observe the Ebbing and the Flowing of the Tide, and I might very easily bring my
               Boat about the Island again: But when I began to think of
               putting it in Practice, I had such a Terror upon my Spirits at the Remembrance of the
               Danger I had been in, that I could not think of it again with any Patience; but on
               the contrary, I took up another Resolution which was more safe, <pb n="179"/> though more laborious; and this was, That I would
               build, or rather make me another <hi rend="italic">Periagau</hi> or <hi rend="italic">Canoe</hi>; and so have one
               for one Side of the Island, and one for the other.</p>
            <p>You are to understand, that now I had, as I may call it, two Plantations in the
               Island; one my little Fortification or Tent, with the Wall about it under the Rock,
               with the Cave behind me, which by this Time I had enlarg'd into several Apartments,
               or Caves, one within another. One of these, which was the dryest, and largest, and
               had a Door out beyond my Wall or Fortification; that is to say, beyond where my Wall
               joyn'd to the Rock, was all fill'd up with the large Earthen Pots, of which I have
               given an Account, and with fourteen or fifteen great Baskets, which would hold five
               or six Bushels each, where I laid up my Stores of Provision, especially my Corn, some
               in the Ear cut off short from the Straw, and the other rubb'd out with my Hand.</p>
            <p>As for my Wall made, <hi rend="italic">as before,</hi> with long Stakes or Piles, those Piles grew
               all like Trees, and were by this Time grown so big, and spread so very much, that
               there was not the least Appearance to any one's View of any Habitation behind
               them.</p>
            <p>Near this Dwelling of mine, but a little farther within the Land, and upon lower
               Ground, lay my two Pieces of Corn-Ground, which I kept duly cultivated and sow'd, and
               which duly yielded me their Harvest in its Season; and whenever I had occasion for
               more Corn, I had more Land adjoyning as fit as that.</p>
            <p>Besides this, I had my Country Seat, and I had now a tollerable Plantation there
               also; for first, I had my little Bower, as I call'd it, which I kept in Repair;
                  <hi rend="italic">that is to say,</hi> I kept the Hedge which circled it in, constantly fitted
               up to its usual Height, <pb n="180"/> the Ladder standing
               always in the Inside; I kept the Trees which at first were no more than my Stakes,
               but were now grown very firm and tall; I kept them always so cut, that they might
               spread and grow thick and wild, and make the more agreeable Shade, which they did
               effectually to my Mind. In the Middle of this I had my Tent always standing, being a piece of a Sail spread over Poles set up for
               that Purpose, and which never wanted any Repair or Renewing; and under this I had
               made me a <ref target="squab_" corresp="squab">Squab</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="squab" target="squab_" type="gloss">A
                  cushion forming part of the inside fittings of a carriage</note> or Couch, with
               the Skins of the Creatures I had kill'd, and with other soft
               Things, and a Blanket laid on them, such as belong'd to our Sea-Bedding, which I had
               saved, and a great Watch-Coat to cover me; and here, whenever I had Occasion to be
               absent from my chief Seat, I took up my Country Habitation.</p>
            <p>Adjoyning to this I had my Enclosures for my Cattle, that is to say, my Goats: And as
               I had taken an inconceivable deal of Pains to fence and enclose this Ground, so I was so uneasy to see it kept entire,
               lest the Goats should break thro', that I never left off till with infinite Labour I
               had stuck the Out-side of the Hedge so full of small Stakes, and so near to one
               another, that it was rather a Pale than a Hedge, and there was scarce Room to put a
               Hand thro' between them, which afterwards when those Stakes grew, as they all did in
               the next rainy Season, made the Enclosure strong like a Wall, indeed stronger than
               any Wall.</p>
            <p>This will testify for me that I was not idle, and that I spared no Pains to bring to
               pass whatever appear'd necessary for my comfortable Support; for I consider'd the keeping up a Breed of tame
               Creatures thus at my Hand, would be a living Magazine of
               Flesh, Milk, Butter and Cheese, <pb n="181"/> for me as
               long as I liv'd in the Place, if it were to be forty Years; and that keeping them in
               my Reach, depended entirely upon my perfecting my Enclosures
               to such a Degree, that I might be sure of keeping them together; which by this Method
                  indeed I so effectually secur'd, that when these little Stakes began to grow, I had planted them so very thick,
               I was forced to pull some of them up again.</p>
            <p>In this Place also I had my Grapes growing, which I principally depended on for my
               Winter Store of Raisins; and which I never fail'd to preserve very carefully, as the best and most agreeable Dainty of my whole Diet; and
               indeed they were not agreeable only, but physical, wholesome, nourishing, and refreshing to the last Degree.</p>
            <p>As this was also about half Way between my other Habitation,
               and the Place where I had laid up my Boat, I generally stay'd, and lay here in my Way
               thither; for I used frequently to visit my Boat, and I kept all Things about or
               belonging to her in very good Order; sometimes I went out in her to divert my self,
               but no more hazardous Voyages would I go, nor scarce ever above a <ref target="stonecast_" corresp="stonecast">Stone's Cast</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="stonecast" target="stonecast_" type="gloss">A stone's throw, or a very short distance</note> or two from the
               Shore, I was so apprehensive of being hurry'd out of my
               Knowledge again by the Currents, or Winds, or any other Accident. But now I come to a new Scene of my Life.</p>
            <p>It happen'd one Day about Noon going towards my Boat, I was exceedingly surpriz'd
               with the Print of a Man's naked Foot on the Shore, which was very plain to be seen in
               the Sand: I stood like one Thunder-struck, or as if I had seen an Apparition; I
               listen'd, I look'd round me, I could hear nothing, nor see any Thing, I went up to a
               rising Ground to look farther, I went up the Shore and down the Shore, but it was all
               one, I could see no other <pb n="182"/> Impression but that
               one, I went to it again to see if there were any more, and to observe if it might not
               be my Fancy; but there was no Room for that, for there was exactly the very Print of
               a Foot, Toes, Heel, and every Part of a Foot; how it came thither, I knew not, nor
               could in the least imagine. But after innumerable fluttering Thoughts, like a Man
               perfectly confus'd and out of my self, I came Home to my Fortification, not feeling,
               as we say, the Ground I went on, but terrify'd to the last Degree, looking behind me
               at every two or three Steps, mistaking every Bush and Tree, and fancying every Stump at a Distance to be a Man; nor is it
               possible to describe how many various Shapes affrighted
               Imagination represented Things to me in, how many wild Ideas were found every Moment
               in my Fancy, and what strange unaccountable Whimsies came into my Thoughts by the
               Way.</p>
            <p>When I came to my Castle, for so I think I call'd it ever after this, I fled into it
               like one pursued; whether I went over by the Ladder as first contriv'd, or went in at the Hole in the Rock, which I call'd a
               Door, I cannot remember; no, nor could I remember the next Morning, for never
               frighted Hare fled to Cover, or Fox to Earth, with more Terror of Mind than I to this
               Retreat.</p>
            <p>I slept none that Night; the farther I was from the Occasion of my Fright, the
               greater my Apprehensions were, which is something contrary
               to the Nature of such Things, and especially to the usual
               Practice of all Creatures in Fear: But I was so embarrass'd with my own frightful
               Ideas of the Thing, that I form'd nothing but dismal Imaginations to my self, even tho' I was now a great way off of it. Sometimes I fancy'd it
               must be the Devil; and Reason joyn'd in with me upon this
                  Supposition: For how should any other Thing in human <pb n="183"/> Shape come into
               the Place? Where was the Vessel that brought them? What Marks was there of any other
               Footsteps? And how was it possible a Man should come there? But then to think that
                  <hi rend="italic">Satan</hi> should take human Shape upon him in such a Place where there could
               be no manner of Occasion for it, but to leave the Print of his Foot behind him, and
               that even for no Purpose too, for he could not be sure I should see it; this was an
               Amusement the other Way; I consider'd that the Devil might have found out abundance
               of other Ways to have terrify'd me than this of the single Print of a Foot. That as I
               liv'd quite on the other Side of the Island, he would never have been so simple to
               leave a Mark in a Place where 'twas Ten Thousand to one whether I should ever see it or not, and in the Sand too, which the first Surge of the
               Sea upon a high Wind would have defac'd entirely: All this seem'd inconsistent with
               the Thing it self, and with all the Notions we usually entertain of the Subtilty of
               the Devil.</p>
            <p>Abundance of such Things as these assisted to argue me out
               of all Apprehensions of its being the Devil: And I presently concluded then, that it
               must be some more dangerous Creature, (<hi rend="italic">viz.</hi>) That it must be some of the
               Savages of the main Land over-against me, who had wander'd out to Sea in their
                  <hi rend="italic">Canoes</hi>; and either driven by the Currents, or by contrary Winds had <ref target="arrived_" corresp="arrived">made</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="arrived" target="arrived_" type="gloss">Arrived at</note> the Island; and had been on Shore, but were gone away again to
               Sea, being as loth, perhaps, to have stay'd in this desolate
               Island, as I would have been to have had them.</p>
            <p>While these Reflections were rowling upon my Mind, I was very thankful in my
               Thoughts, that I was so happy as not to be thereabouts at that Time, or that they did
               not see my Boat, by which they would have concluded that some Inhabitants 
               
               <pb n="184"/> had been in the Place, and perhaps have
               search'd farther for me: Then terrible Thoughts rack'd my Imagination about their
               having found my Boat, and that there were People here; and that if so, I should
               certainly have them come again in greater Numbers, and devour me; that if it should
               happen so that they should not find me, yet they would find my Enclosure, destroy all
               my Corn, carry away all my Flock of tame Goats, and I should
                  perish at last for meer Want.</p>
            <p>Thus my Fear banish'd all my religious Hope; all that former Confidence in God which
               was founded upon such wonderful Experience as I had had of his Goodness, now
               vanished, as if he that had fed me by Miracle hitherto, could not preserve by his
               Power the Provision which he had made for me by his Goodness. I reproach'd my self
               with my Easiness, that would not sow any more Corn one Year than would just serve me
               till the next Season, as if no Accident could intervene to prevent my enjoying the
               Crop that was upon the Ground; and this I thought so just a Reproof, that I resolv'd
               for the future to have two or three Years Corn beforehand,
               so that whatever might come, I might not perish for want of Bread.</p>
            <p>How strange a <ref target="chequer_" corresp="chequer">Chequer Work</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="chequer" target="chequer_" type="gloss">Checkerboard</note> of Providence is the Life of Man! and by what secret
               differing Springs are the Affections hurry'd about as differing Circumstance present! To Day we love what to Morrow we hate; to Day we seek
               what to Morrow we shun; to Day we desire what to Morrow we
               fear; nay even tremble at the Apprehensions of; this was exemplify'd in me at this
               Time in the most lively Manner imaginable; for I whose only Affliction was, that I
               seem'd banished from human Society, that I was alone, circumscrib'd by the boundless
               Ocean, cut off from Mankind, and condemn'd <pb n="185"/> to what I call'd silent Life; that I was as one who
               Heaven thought not worthy to be number'd among the Living,
               or to appear among the rest of his Creatures; that to have seen one of my own
               Species, would have seem'd to me a Raising me from Death to Life, and the greatest
               Blessing that Heaven it self, next to the supreme Blessing of Salvation, could
               bestow; <hi rend="italic">I say,</hi> that I should now tremble at the very Apprehensions of seeing
               a Man, and was ready to sink into the Ground at but the Shadow or silent Appearance
               of a Man's having set his Foot in the Island.</p>
            <p>Such is the uneven State of human Life: And it afforded me a great many curious
               Speculations afterwards, when I had a little recover'd my
               first Surprize; I consider'd that this was the Station of Life the infinitely wise
               and good Providence of God had determin'd for me, that as I could not foresee what
               the Ends of Divine Wisdom might be in all this, so I was not to dispute his
               Sovereignty, who, as I was his Creature, had an undoubted Right by Creation to govern
               and dispose of me absolutely as he thought fit; and who, as
               I was a Creature who had offended him, had likewise a judicial Right to condemn me to what Punishment he thought fit; and that it was my
               Part to submit to bear his Indignation, because I had sinn'd against him.</p>
            <p>I then reflected that God, who was not only Righteous but Omnipotent, as he had
               thought fit thus to punish and afflict me, so he was able to deliver me; that if he
               did not think fit to do it, 'twas my unquestion'd Duty to resign my self absolutely
               and entirely to his Will; and on the other Hand, it was my Duty also to hope in him,
               pray to him, and quietly to attend the Dictates and Directions of his daily
               Providence.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="186"/>These Thoughts took me up many Hours, Days;
               nay, I may say, Weeks and Months; and one particular Effect
               of my Cogitations on this Occasion, I cannot omit, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> One Morning early,
               lying in my Bed, and fill'd with Thought about my Danger from the Appearance of
               Savages, I found it discompos'd me very much, upon which
               those Words of the Scripture came into my Thoughts, <ref target="psalm50_" corresp="psalm50">Call upon me in the Day of Trouble, and I will deliver, and thou
                  shalt glorify me.</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="psalm50" target="psalm50_" type="gloss">Psalm 50:15</note>
            </p>
            <p>Upon this, rising chearfully out of my Bed, my Heart was not only comforted, but I
               was guided and encourag'd to pray earnestly to God for Deliverance: When I had done praying, I took up my Bible, and opening it to read, the
               first Words that presented to me, were, <ref target="psalms_" corresp="psalms">Wait
                  on the Lord, and be of good Cheer, and he shall strengthen thy Heart; wait, I say,
                  on the Lord:</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="psalms" target="psalms_" type="gloss">Psalm 27:14 and Psalm 31:24</note> It is impossible
               to express the Comfort this gave me. In Answer, I thankfully
               laid down the Book, and was no more sad, at least, not on that Occasion.</p>
            <p>In the middle of these Cogitations, Apprehensions and
               Reflections, it came into my Thought one Day, that all this might be a meer <ref target="chimera_" corresp="chimera">Chimera</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="chimera" target="chimera_" type="gloss">Monstrous imagining (more literally, a monster in Greek mythology, with a lion's
                  head, a goat's body, and a serpent's tail)</note> of my own; and that this Foot
               might be the Print of my own Foot, when I came on Shore from my Boat: This chear'd me
               up a little too, and I began to perswade my self it was all
               a Delusion; that it was nothing else but my own Foot, and
               why might not I come that way from the Boat, as well as I was going that way to the Boat; again, I consider'd also that I
               could by no Means tell for certain where I had trod, and where I had not; and that if
               at last this was only the Print of my own Foot, I had play'd the Part of those Fools,
               who strive to make stories of Spectres, and Apparitions; and then are frighted at
               them more than any body.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="187"/>Now I began to take Courage, and to peep
               abroad again; for I had not stirr'd out of my Castle for three Days and Nights; so
               that I began to starve for Provision; for I had little or nothing within Doors, but
               some Barley Cakes and Water. Then I knew that my Goats wanted to be milk'd too, which
                  usually was my Evening Diversion; and the poor Creatures
               were in great Pain and Inconvenience for want of it; and indeed, it almost spoil'd
               some of them, and almost dry'd up their Milk.</p>
            <p>Heartning my self therefore with the Belief that this was nothing but the Print of
               one of my own Feet, and so I might be truly said to <ref target="start_" corresp="start">start</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="start" target="start_" type="gloss">Startle</note> at my own Shadow, I began to go abroad
               again, and went to my Country House, to milk my Flock; but to see with what Fear I
               went forward, how often I look'd behind me, how I was ready every now and then to lay
               down my Basket, and run for my Life, it would have made any one have thought I was
                  haunted with an evil Conscience, or that I had been
                  lately most terribly frighted, and so indeed I had.</p>
            <p>However, as I went down thus two or three Days, and having seen nothing, I began to
               be a little bolder; and to think there was really nothing in
               it, but my own Imagination: But I cou'd not perswade my self
               fully of this, till I should go down to the Shore again, and see this Print of a
               Foot, and measure it by my own, and see if there was any Similitude or Fitness, that I might be assur'd it was my own Foot: But when I came to
               the Place, <hi rend="italic">First,</hi> It appear'd evidently to me, that when I laid up my Boat,
               I could not possibly be on Shore any where there about. <hi rend="italic">Secondly,</hi> When I
               came to measure the Mark with my own Foot, I found my Foot
               not so large by a great deal; both these Things fill'd my Head with new Imaginations,
               and gave me <ref target="humors2_" corresp="humors2">the Vapours</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="humors2" target="humors2_" type="gloss">Physiologically, the four humors (sanguine, choleric, phlegmatic, melancholic)
                  were thought to emit "vapors" that ascended to the brain and shaped one's
                  temperament. When the humors were unbalanced, the vapors caused distemper and
                  illness.</note> again, to the highest Degree; so that I <pb n="188"/> shook with cold, like one in an Ague: And I went Home
               again, fill'd with the Belief that some Man or Men had been on Shore there; or in
               short, that the Island was inhabited, and I might be surpriz'd before I was aware; and what course to take for my Security I
               knew not.</p>
            <p>O what ridiculous Resolution Men take, when possess'd with Fear! It deprives them of
               the Use of those Means which Reason offers for their Relief. The first Thing I
               propos'd to my self, was, to throw down my Enclosures, and turn all my tame Cattle
               wild into the Woods, that the Enemy might not find them; and then frequent the Island
               in Prospect of the same, or the like Booty: Then to the
               simple Thing of Digging up my two Corn Fields, that they might not find such a Grain
               there, and still be prompted to frequent the Island; then to demolish my Bower, and Tent, that they might not see any
               Vestiges of Habitation, and be prompted to look farther, in order to find out the
               Persons inhabiting.</p>
            <p>These were the Subject of the first Night's Cogitation,
               after I was come Home again, while the Apprehensions which had so over-run my Mind
               were fresh upon me, and my Head was full of Vapours, as
               above: Thus Fear of Danger is ten thousand Times more
               terrifying than Danger it self, when apparent to the Eyes; and we find the Burthen of Anxiety greater by much, than the Evil which we are
               anxious about; and which was worse than all this, I had not that Relief in this
               Trouble from the Resignation I used to practise, that I hop'd to have. I look'd, I
               thought, like <ref target="philistines_" corresp="philistines">Saul,</ref> who
               complain'd not only that the <hi rend="italic">Philistines</hi> were upon him; but that God had
               forsaken him <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="philistines" target="philistines_" type="gloss">Saul, the first king of the Israelites, summons
                  the spirit of the prophet Samuel and tells him, "I am sore distressed; for the
                  Philistines make war against me, and God is departed from me, and answereth me no
                  more, neither by prophets, nor by dreams" (1 Samuel 28:15).</note>; for I did not
               now take due Ways to compose my Mind, by crying to God in my Distress, and resting
               upon his Providence, <pb n="189"/>
               as I had done before, for my Defence and Deliverance; which if I had done, I had, at
               least, been more cheerfully supported under this new Surprise, and perhaps carry'd through it with more Resolution.</p>
            <p>This Confusion of my Thoughts kept me waking all Night; but in the Morning I fell
               asleep, and having by the Amusement of my Mind, been, as it were, tyr'd, and my
               Spirits exhausted; I slept very soundly, and wak'd much
               better compos'd than I had ever been before; and now I began to think sedately; and
               upon the utmost Debate with my self, I concluded, That this Island, which was so
               exceeding pleasant, fruitful, and no farther from the main Land than as I had seen,
               was not so entirely abandon'd as I might imagine: That
               altho' there were no stated Inhabitants who liv'd on the Spot; yet that there might
               sometimes come Boats off from the Shore, who either with Design, or perhaps never,
               but when they were driven by cross Winds, might come to this Place.</p>
            <p>That I had liv'd here fifteen Years now, and had not met with the least Shadow or
               Figure of any People yet; and that if at any Time they should be driven here, it was
               probable they went away again as soon as ever they could, seeing they had never
               thought fit to fix there upon any Occasion, to this Time.</p>
            <p>That the most I cou'd suggest any Danger from, was, from any such casual accidental
               Landing of straggling People from the Main, who, as it was likely if they were driven
               hither, were here against their Wills; so they made no stay here, but went off again
               with all possible Speed, seldom staying one Night on Shore, least they should not
               have the Help of the Tides, and Day-light back again; and that therefore I had
               nothing to do but to consider <pb n="190"/> of some safe
               Retreat, in Case I should see any Savages land upon the
               Spot.</p>
            <p>Now I began sorely to repent, that I had dug my Cave so large, as to bring a Door
               through again, which Door, as I said, came out beyond where
               my Fortification joyn'd to the Rock; upon maturely considering this therefore, I
               resolv'd to draw me a second Fortification, in the same Manner of a Semicircle, at a Distance from my Wall, just where I had planted a double
               Row of Trees, about twelve Years before, of which I made mention: These Trees having been planted so thick before, they wanted but a few Piles
               to be driven between them, that they should be thicker, and stronger, and my Wall
               would be soon finish'd.</p>
            <p>So that I had now a double Wall, and my outer Wall was thickned with Pieces of
               Timber, old Cables, and every Thing I could think of, to
               make it strong; having in it seven little Holes, about as big as I might put my Arm
               out at: In the In-side of this, I thickned my Wall to above ten Foot thick, with
               continual bringing Earth out of my Cave, and laying it at the Foot of the Wall, and
               walking upon it; and through the seven Holes, I contriv'd to plant the Musquets, of
               which I took Notice, that I got seven on Shore out of the Ship; these, I say, I
               planted like my Cannon, and fitted them into Frames that held them like a Carriage,
               that so I could fire all the seven Guns in two Minutes Time:
               This Wall I was many a weary Month a finishing, and yet never thought my self safe
               till it was done.</p>
            <p>When this was done, I stuck all the Ground without my Wall, for a great way every
               way, as full with Stakes or Sticks of the <ref target="osier_" corresp="osier">Osier</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="osier" target="osier_" type="gloss">A variety of Eurasian willows</note> like Wood, which I found so apt
               to grow, as they could well stand; insomuch, that I believe I might set in near <pb n="191"/> twenty thousand of them, leaving a pretty
               large Space between them and my Wall, that I might have room to see an Enemy, and
               they might have no shelter from the young Trees, if they attempted to approach my
               outer Wall.</p>
            <p>Thus in two Years Time I had a thick Grove and in five or six Years Time I had a Wood
               before my Dwelling, growing so monstrous thick and strong, that it was indeed
               perfectly impassable; and no Men of what kind soever, would ever imagine that there was any Thing beyond it, much less a
               Habitation: As for the Way which I propos'd to my self to go in and out, for I left
               no Avenue; it was by setting two Ladders, one to a Part of the Rock which was low,
               and then broke in, and left room to place another Ladder upon that; so when the two
               Ladders were taken down, no Man living could come down to me without mischieving
                  himself; and if they had come down, they were still on
               the Out-side of my outer Wall.</p>
            <p>Thus I took all the Measures humane Prudence could suggest for my own Preservation;
               and it will be seen at length, that they were not altogether without just Reason;
               though I foresaw nothing at that Time, more than my meer Fear suggested to me.</p>
            <head> <ref target="Audio14_" corresp="Audio14">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio14" target="Audio14_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_14_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            <p>While this was doing, I was not altogether Careless of my
               other Affairs; for I had a great Concern upon me, for my little Herd of Goats; they
               were not only a present Supply to me upon every Occasion,
               and began to be sufficient to me, without the Expence of Powder and Shot; but also
               without the Fatigue of Hunting after the wild Ones, and I was loth to lose the
               Advantage of them, and to have them all to nurse up over again.</p>
            <p>To this Purpose, after long Consideration, I could think of but two Ways to preserve
               them; <pb n="192"/> one was to find another convenient
               Place to dig a a Cave Under-ground, and to drive them into it every Night; and the
               other was to enclose two or three little Bits of Land, remote from one another and as
               much conceal'd as I could, where I might keep about half a Dozen young Goats in each
               Place: So that if any Disaster happen'd to the Flock in general, I might be able to
               raise them again with little Trouble and Time: And this,
               tho' it would require a great deal of Time and Labour, I
               thought was the most rational Design.</p>
            <p>Accordingly I spent some Time to find out the most retir'd Parts of the Island; and I
               pitch'd upon one which was as private indeed as my Heart
               could wish for; it was a little damp Piece of Ground in the Middle of the hollow and
               thick Woods, where, as is observ'd, I almost lost my self once before, endeavouring to come back that Way from the Eastern
               Part of the Island: Here I found a clear Piece of Land near three Acres, so
                  surrounded with Woods, that it was almost an Enclosure by
               Nature, at least it did not want near so much Labour to make
               it so, as the other Pieces of Ground I had work'd so hard at.</p>
            <p>I immediately went to Work with this Piece of Ground, and in less than a Month's
               Time, I had so fenc'd it round, that my Flock or Herd, call it which you please, who
               were not so wild now as at first they might be supposed to be, were well enough secur'd in it. So, without any farther Delay, I removed ten young She-Goats and two He-Goats to this
               Piece; and when they were there, I continued to perfect the Fence till I had made it
               as secure as the other, which, however, I did at more Leisure, and it took me up more
               Time by a great deal.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="193"/>All this Labour I was at the Expence of,
               purely from my Apprehensions on the Account of the Print of a Man's Foot which I had
               seen; for as yet I never saw any human Creature come near the Island, and I had now
               liv'd two Years under these Uneasinesses, which indeed made
               my Life much less comfortable than it was before; as may well be imagin'd by any who
               know what it is to live in the constant Snare of <hi rend="italic">the Fear of Man</hi>; and this I
               must observe with Grief too, that the Discomposure of my
               Mind had too great Impressions also upon the religious Part
               of my Thoughts, for the Dread and Terror of falling into the Hands of Savages and Canibals, lay so upon my Spirits, that I seldom
               found my self in a due Temper for <ref target="supplication_" corresp="supplication">Application to my Maker</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="supplication" target="supplication_" type="gloss">Prayer or supplication</note>, at least not with the sedate Calmness
               and Resignation of Soul which I was wont to do; I rather pray'd to God as under great
               Affliction and Pressure of Mind, surrounded with Danger, and in Expectation every
               Night of being murther'd and devour'd before Morning; and I must testify from my
               Experience that a <ref target="temper_" corresp="temper">Temper</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="temper" target="temper_" type="gloss">Temperament</note> of Peace, Thankfulness, Love and Affection, is
               much more the proper Frame for Prayer than that of Terror and Discomposure; and that
               under the Dread of Mischief impending, a Man is no more fit for a comforting
               Performance of the Duty of praying to God, than he is for Repentance on a sick Bed:
               For these Discomposures affect the Mind as the others do the Body; and the
               Discomposure of the Mind must necessarily be as great a Disability as that of the Body, and much greater, Praying to God
               being properly an Act of the Mind, not of the Body.</p>
            <p>But to go on; After I had thus secur'd one Part of my little living Stock, I went
               about the whole Island, searching for another private Place, to make <pb n="194"/> such another Deposit; when wandring more to the
                  <hi rend="italic">West</hi> Point of the Island, than I had ever done yet, and looking out to
               Sea, I thought I saw a Boat upon the Sea, at a great
               Distance; I had found a Prospective <ref target="glass_" corresp="glass">Glass</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="glass" target="glass_" type="gloss">A spyglass, or sailor's telescope</note>, or two, in
               one of the Seamen's Chests, which I sav'd out of our Ship; but I had it not about me,
               and this was so remote, that I could not tell what to make of it; though I look'd at
               it till my Eyes were not able to hold to look any longer; whether it was a Boat, or
               not, I do not know; but as I descended from the Hill, I could see no more of it, so I
               gave it over; only I resolv'd to go no more out without a Prospective Glass in my
               Pocket.</p>
            <p>When I was come down the Hill, to the End of the Island, where indeed I had never
               been before, I was presently convinc'd, that the seeing the Print of a Man's Foot,
               was not such a strange Thing in the Island as I imagin'd; and but that it was a special Providence that I was cast upon the Side of the Island,
               where the Savages never came: I should easily have known,
               that nothing was more frequent than for the <hi rend="italic">Canoes</hi> from the Main, when they
                  happen'd to be a little too far out at Sea, to shoot over
               to that Side of the Island for Harbour; likewise as they often met, and fought in
               their <hi rend="italic">Canoes,</hi> the Victors having taken any
               Prisoners, would bring them over to this Shore, where according to their dreadful Customs, being all <hi rend="italic">Canibals,</hi> they would kill
               and eat them; of which hereafter.</p>
            <p>When I was come down the Hill, to the Shore, as I said above, being the <hi rend="italic">S.
                  W.</hi> Point of the Island, I was perfectly confounded
               and amaz'd; nor is it possible for me to express the Horror of my Mind, at seeing the
               Shore spread with Skulls, Hands, Feet, and other Bones of humane Bodies; and
               particularly I observ'd a Place where there had <pb n="195" facs="tcp:0653600100:201"/> been a Fire made, and a Circle dug in the Earth, like a <ref target="cockpit_" corresp="cockpit">Cockpit</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="cockpit" target="cockpit_" type="gloss">Here alluding to the cockpit of a
                  ship, or the part of the helm where the steering wheel is</note>, where it is
               suppos'd the Savage Wretches had sat down to their inhumane Feastings upon the Bodies of their Fellow-Creatures.</p>
            <p>I was so astonish'd with the Sight of these Things, that I entertain'd no Notions of
               any Danger to my self from it for a long while; All my Apprehensions were bury'd in
               the Thoughts of such a Pitch of inhuman, hellish Brutality,
               and the Horror of the Degeneracy of Humane Nature; which
               though I had heard of often, yet I never had so near a View of before; in short, I
               turn'd away my Face from the horrid Spectacle; my Stomach grew sick, and I was just
               at the Point of Fainting, when Nature discharg'd the
               Disorder from my Stomach; and having vomited with an
               uncommon Violence, I was a little reliev'd; but cou'd not bear to stay in the Place a
               Moment; so I gat me up the Hill again, with all the Speed I cou'd, and walk'd on
               towards my own Habitation.</p>
            <p>When I came a little out of that Part of the Island, I stood
               still a while as amaz'd; and then recovering my self, I
               look'd up with the utmost Affection of my Soul, and with a
               Flood of Tears in my Eyes, gave God Thanks that had cast my first Lot in a Part of
               the World, where I was <ref target="distinguished_" corresp="distinguished_">distinguish'd</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="distinguished" target="distinguished_" type="gloss">Physically separated</note> from such
               dreadful Creatures as these; and that though I had esteem'd my present Condition very
               miserable, had yet given me so many Comforts in it, that I had still more to give
               Thanks for than to complain of; and this above all, that I had even in this miserable
               Condition been comforted with the Knowledge of himself, and the Hope of his Blessing,
               which was a Felicity more than sufficiently equivalent to
               all the Misery which I had suffer'd, or could suffer.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="196"/>In this Frame of Thankfulness, I went Home to
               my Castle, and began to be much easier now, as to the Safety of my Circumstances,
               than ever I was before; for I observ'd, that these Wretches never came to this Island
               in search of what they could get; perhaps not seeking, not wanting, or not expecting any Thing here; and having often, no doubt, been up
               in the cover'd woody Part of it, without finding any Thing to their Purpose. I knew I
               had been here now almost eighteen Years, and never saw the least Foot-steps of Humane
               Creature there before; and I might be here eighteen more, as entirely conceal'd as I was now, if I did not discover my self
               to them, which I had no manner of Occasion to do, it being
               my only Business to keep my self entirely conceal'd where I was, unless I found a
               better sort of Creatures than <hi rend="italic">Canibals</hi> to make my self known to.</p>
            <p>Yet I entertain'd such an Abhorrence of the Savage Wretches, that I have been
               speaking of, and of the wretched inhuman Custom of their devouring and eating one
               another up, that I continu'd pensive, and sad, and kept close within my own Circle
               for almost two Years after this: When I say my own Circle, I mean by it, my three
               Plantations, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> my Castle, my Country Seat, which I call'd my Bower, and
               my Enclosure in the Woods; nor did I look after this for any other Use than as an
               Enclosure for my Goats; for the Aversion which Nature gave me to these hellish
               Wretches, was such, that I was fearful of seeing them, as of seeing the Devil
               himself; nor did I so much as go to look after my Boat, in all this Time; but began
               rather to think of making me another; for I cou'd not think of ever making any more
               Attempts, to bring the other Boat round the Island to me, <ref target="lest_" corresp="lest">least</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="lest" target="lest_" type="gloss">Lest</note> I should meet with some of these Creatures
               at Sea, <pb n="197"/> in which, if I had happen'd to have
               fallen into their Hands, I knew what would have been my Lot.</p>
            <p>Time however, and the Satisfaction I had, that I was in no Danger of being discover'd
               by these People, began to wear off my Uneasiness about them; and I began to live just
               in the same compos'd Manner as before; only with this Difference, that I used more
               Caution, and kept my Eyes more about me than I did before,
               least I should happen to be seen by any of them; and particularly, I was more
               cautious of firing my Gun, least any of them being on the Island, should happen to
               hear of it; and it was therefore a very good Providence to me, that I had furnish'd
               my self with a tame Breed of Goats, that I needed not hunt any more about the Woods,
               or shoot at them; and if I did catch any of them after this, it was by Traps, and
               Snares, as I had done before; so that for two Years after this, I believe I never
               fir'd my Gun once of, though I never went out without it; and which was more, as I
               had sav'd three Pistols out of the Ship, I always carry'd
               them out with me, or at least two of them, sticking them in my Goat-skin Belt; also I
               furbish'd up one of the great <ref target="cutlass_" corresp="cutlass">Cutlashes</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="cutlass" target="cutlass_" type="gloss">Cutlasses (a sailor's sword with a curved
                  blade)</note>, that I had out of the Ship, and made me a Belt to put it on also;
               so that I was now a most formidable Fellow to look at, when I went abroad, if you add
               to the former Description of my self, the Particular of two Pistols, and a great
               broad Sword, hanging at my Side in a Belt, but without a Scabbard.</p>
            <p>Things going on thus, as I have said, for some Time; I seem'd, excepting these
               Cautions, to be reduc'd to my former calm, sedate Way of Living, all these Things
               tended to shewing me more and more how far my Condition was from being miserable, compar'd to some others; nay, to many other Particulars of Life, which it might have pleased, <pb n="198"/> God to have
               made my Lot. It put me upon reflecting, How little repining there would be among Mankind, at any Condition of Life, if People would rather compare their Condition with those that are
               worse, in order to be thankful, than be always comparing them with those which are
               better, to assist their Murmurings and Complainings.</p>
            <p>As in my present Condition there were not really many Things which I wanted; so
               indeed I thought that the Frights I had been in about these Savage Wretches, and the
               Concern I had been in for my own Preservation, had taken off the Edge of my Invention for my own Conveniences; and I had dropp'd a good
                  <ref target="design2_" corresp="design2">Design</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="design2" target="design2_" type="gloss">Plan or scheme</note>, which I had once bent my Thoughts too much upon; and that
               was, to try if I could not make some of my Barley into Malt, and then try to brew my
               self some Beer: This was really a whimsical Thought, and I
               reprov'd my self often for the Simplicity of it; for I presently saw there would be
               the want of several Things necessary to the making my Beer, that it would be
               impossible for me to supply; as First, Casks to preserve it in, which was a Thing,
               that as I have observ'd already, I cou'd never compass; no,
               though I spent not many Days, but Weeks, nay, Months in attempting it, but to no purpose. In the next Place, I had no <ref target="hops_" corresp="hops">Hops</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="hops" target="hops_" type="gloss">Particular varieties of seed cones used
                  to provide bitter flavor, and as a stabilizing agent to prevent beer from going
                  bad</note> to make it keep, no Yeast to make it work, no Copper or Kettle to make
               it boil; and yet all these Things, notwithstanding, I verily believe, had not these
               Things interven'd, I mean the Frights and Terrors I was in about the Savages, I <ref target="would4_" corresp="would4">had</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="would4" target="would4_" type="gloss">would have</note> undertaken it, and perhaps brought it to pass too; for I
               seldom gave any Thing over without accomplishing it, when I
               once had it in my Head enough to begin it.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="199"/>But my Invention now run quite another Way;
               for Night and Day, I could think of nothing but how I might destroy some of these
               Monsters in their cruel bloody Entertainment, and if possible, save the Victim they
               should bring hither to destroy. It would take up a larger Volume than this whole Work
               is intended to be, to set down all the Contrivances I
               hatch'd, or rather brooded upon in my Thought, for the destroying these Creatures, or
               at least frighting them, so as to prevent their coming hither any more; but all was
               abortive, nothing could be possible to take effect, unless I was to be there to do it
               my self; and what could one Man do among them, when perhaps there might be twenty or
               thirty of them together, with their Darts, or their Bows and Arrows, with which they
               could shoot as true to a Mark, as I could with my Gun?</p>
            <p>Sometimes I contriv'd to dig a Hole under the Place where they made their Fire, and
               put in five or six Pound of Gun-powder, which when they kindled their Fire, would
               consequently take Fire, and blow up all that was near it; but as in the first Place I
               should be very loth to wast so much Powder upon them, my Store being now within the
                  Quantity of one Barrel; so neither could I be sure of its
               going off, at any certain Time; when it might surprise them,
               and at best, that it would do little more than just blow the Fire about their Ears
               and fright them, but not sufficient to make them forsake the Place; so I laid it
               aside, and then propos'd, that I would place my self in Ambush, in some convenient Place, with my three Guns, all double loaded; and in
               the middle of their bloody Ceremony, let fly at them, when I
               should be sure to kill or wound perhaps two or three at every shoot; and then falling
               in upon them with my three Pistols, <pb n="200"/> and my
               Sword, I made no doubt, but that if there was twenty I should kill them all: This
               Fancy pleas'd my Thoughts for some Weeks, and I was so full of it, that I often
               dream'd of it; and sometimes that I was just going to let fly at them in my
               Sleep.</p>
            <p>I went so far with it in my Imagination, that I employ'd my self several Days to find
               out proper Places to put my self in <ref target="ambuscade_" corresp="ambuscade">Ambuscade</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="ambuscade" target="ambuscade_" type="gloss">Ambush</note>, as I said, to watch for them; and
               I went frequently to the Place it self, which was now grown more familiar to me; and
               especially while my Mind was thus fill'd with Thoughts of Revenge, and of a bloody
                  putting twenty or thirty of them to the Sword, as I may
               call it; the Horror I had at the Place, and at the <ref target="signal_" corresp="signal">Signals</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="signal" target="signal_" type="gloss">Evidence, namely the human remains
                  Crusoe found on the beach</note> of the barbarous Wretches devouring one another, abated my Malice.</p>
            <p>Well, at length I found a Place in the Side of the Hill, where I was satisfy'd I
               might securely wait, till I saw any of their Boats coming, and might then, even
               before they would be ready to come on Shore, convey my self unseen into Thickets of
               Trees, in one of which there was a Hollow large enough to conceal me entirely; and
               were I might sit, and observe all their bloody Doings, and take my full aim at their
               Heads, when they were so close together, as that it would be next to impossible that I should miss my Shoot, or that I could fail
               wounding three or four of them at the first Shoot.</p>
            <p>In this Place then I resolv'd to fix my Design, and accordingly I prepar'd two
               Muskets, and my ordinary Fowling Piece. The two Muskets I loaded with a <ref target="brace_" corresp="brace">Brace of Slugs</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="brace" target="brace_" type="gloss">A
                  handful of musket balls</note> each, and four or five smaller Bullets, about the
               Size of Pistol Bullets; and the Fowling Piece I loaded with near a Handful of <ref target="swanshot_" corresp="swanshot">Swan-shot</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="swanshot" target="swanshot_" type="gloss">Small lead pellets - so called, of course, because
                  a fowling piece is ordinarily used to shoot birds</note>, of the largest Size; I
               also loaded my Pistols with about four Bullets each, and in this <pb n="201"/> Posture, well provided with Ammunition for a second and third Charge, I prepar'd my self for my
               Expedition.</p>
            <p>After I had thus laid the Scheme of my Design, and in my Imagination put it in
               Practice, I continually made my Tour every Morning up to the
               Top of the Hill, which was from my Castle, as I call'd it, about three Miles, or
               more, to see if I cou'd observe any Boats upon the Sea, coming near the Island, or
               standing over towards it; but I began to tire of this hard
               Duty, after I had for two or three Months constantly kept my Watch; but came always
               back without any Discovery, there having not in all that Time been the least Appearance, not only on, or near the Shore; but not on the whole
               Ocean, so far as my Eyes or <ref target="glasses_" corresp="glasses">Glasses</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="glasses" target="glasses_" type="gloss">Spyglasses</note> could reach every Way.</p>
            <p>As long as I kept up my daily Tour to the Hill, to look out; so long also I kept up
               the Vigour of my Design, and my Spirits seem'd to be all the while in a suitable
               Form, for so outragious an Execution as the killing twenty
               or thirty naked Savages, for an Offence which I had not at all entred into a
               Discussion of in my Thoughts, any farther than my Passions were at first fir'd by the
               Horror I conceiv'd at the unnatural Custom of that People of the Country, who it seems had been suffer'd by Providence in his
               wise <ref target="disposition_" corresp="disposition">Disposition</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="disposition" target="disposition_" type="gloss">Arrangement or organization; setting forth</note> of the World, to
               have no other Guide than that of their own abominable and
               vitiated Passions; and consequently were left, and perhaps had been so for some Ages,
               to act such horrid Things, and receive such dreadful Customs, as nothing but Nature entirely abandon'd of Heaven, and acted by some
               hellish Degeneracy, could have run them into: But now, when as I have said, I began
               to be weary of the fruitless Excursion, which I had made so
               long, and so far, every <pb n="202"/> Morning in vain, so my Opinion of the Action it self
               began to alter, and I began with cooler and calmer Thoughts to consider what it was I
               was going to engage in. What Authority, or Call I had, to
               pretend to be Judge and Executioner upon these Men as Criminals, whom Heaven had
               thought fit for so many Ages to suffer unpunish'd, to go on, and to be as it were,
               the Executioners of his Judgments one upon another. How far
               these People were Offenders against me, and what Right I had to engage in the Quarrel
               of that Blood, which they shed promiscuously one upon another. I debated this very
               often with my self thus; How do I know what God himself judges in this particular
               Case; it is certain these People either do not commit this as a Crime; it is not
               against their own Consciences reproving, or their Light reproaching them. They do not
               know it be an Offence, and then commit it in Defiance of Divine Justice, as we do in
               almost all the Sins we commit. They think it no more a Crime to kill a Captive taken
               in War, than we do to kill an Ox; nor to eat humane Flesh, than we do to eat
               Mutton.</p>
            <p>When I had consider'd this a little, it follow'd necessarily, that I was certainly in
               the Wrong in it, that these People were not Murtherers in the Sense that I had before
               condemn'd them, in my Thoughts; any more than those Christians were Murtherers, who
               often put to Death the Prisoners taken in Battle; or more frequently, upon many
               Occasions, put whole Troops of Men to the Sword, without giving Quarter, though they
               threw down their Arms and submitted.</p>
            <p>In the next Place it occurr'd to me, that albeit the Usage they thus gave one
               another, was thus brutish and inhuman; yet it was really nothing to me: These People
               had done me no Injury. That if they <pb n="203"/> attempted
               me, or I saw it necessary for my immediate Preservation to
               fall upon them, something might be said for it; but that as I was yet out of their
               Power, and they had really no Knowledge of me, and consequently no Design upon me;
               and therefore it could not be just for me to fall upon them. That this would justify
               the Conduct of the <hi rend="italic">Spaniards</hi> in all their Barbarities practis'd in <hi rend="italic">America,</hi> and where they destroy'd Millions of these
               People, who however they were Idolaters and Barbarians, and
               had several bloody and barbarous Rites in their Customs, such as sacrificing human
               Bodies to their Idols, were yet, as to the <hi rend="italic">Spaniards,</hi> very innocent People;
               and that the rooting them out of the Country, is spoken of with the utmost Abhorrence
               and Detestation, by even the <hi rend="italic">Spaniards</hi> themselves, at this Time; and by all
               other Christian Nations of <hi rend="italic">Europe,</hi> as a meer
               Butchery, a bloody and unnatural Piece of Cruelty,
               unjustifiable either to God or Man; and such, as for which
               the very Name of a <hi rend="italic">Spaniard</hi> is reckon'd to be
               frightful and terrible to all People of Humanity, or of Christian Compassion: As if the Kingdom of <hi rend="italic">Spain</hi> were particularly Eminent for
               the Product of a Race of Men, who were without Principles of Tenderness, or the
               common Bowels of Pity to the Miserable, which is reckon'd to be a Mark of generous
                  Temper in the Mind.</p>
            <p>These Considerations really put me to a Pause, and to a kind of a Full-stop; and I
               began by little and little to be off of my Design, and to conclude, I had taken wrong
               Measures in my Resolutions to attack the Savages; that it was not my Business to
               meddle with them, unless they first attack'd me, and this it was my Business if
               possible to prevent; but that if I were discover'd, and attack'd, then I knew my
               Duty.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="204"/>On the other hand, I argu'd with my self, That
               this really was the way not to deliver my self, but entirely to ruin and destroy my
               self; for unless I was sure to kill every one that not only should be on Shore at
               that Time, but that should ever come on Shore afterwards, if but one of them escap'd,
               to tell their Country People what had happen'd, they would come over again by
               Thousands to revenge the Death of their Fellows, and I
               should only bring upon my self a certain Destruction, which at present I had no
               manner of occasion for.</p>
            <p>Upon the whole I concluded, That neither in Principle or in Policy, I ought one way
               or other to concern my self in this Affair. That my Business was by all possible
               Means to conceal my self from them, and not to leave the least Signal to them to
               guess by, that there were any living Creatures upon the
               Island; I mean of humane Shape.</p>
            <p>Religion joyn'd in with this Prudential, and I was convinc'd now many Ways, that I
               was perfectly out of my Duty, when I was laying all my
               bloody Schemes for the Destruction of innocent Creatures, I mean innocent as to me:
               As to the Crimes they were guilty of towards one another, I had nothing to do with
               them; they were National, and I ought to leave them to the
               Justice of God, who is the Governour of Nations, and knows how by National
               Punishments to make a just Retribution for National Offences; and to bring publick
               Judgments upon those who offend in a publick Manner, by such
               Ways as best pleases him.</p>
            <p>This appear'd so clear to me now, that nothing was a greater Satisfaction to me, than
               that I had not been suffer'd to do a Thing which I now saw so much Reason to believe
               would have been no less a Sin, than that of wilful Murther, if I had committed <pb n="205"/> it; and I
               gave most humble Thanks on my Knees to God, that had thus deliver'd me from
               Blood-Guiltiness; beseeching him to grant me the Protection of his Providence, that I
               might not fall into the Hands of the Barbarians; or that I might not lay my Hands
               upon them, unless I had a more clear Call from Heaven to do it, in Defence of my own
               Life.</p>
            <p>In this Disposition I continu'd, for near a Year after this; and so far was I from
               desiring an Occasion for falling upon these Wretches, that
               in all that Time, I never once went up the Hill to see whether there were any of them
               in Sight, or to know whether any of them had been on Shore there, or not, that I
               might not be tempted to renew any of my Contrivances against
               them, or be provok'd by any Advantage which might present it self, to fall upon them;
               only this I did, I went and remov'd my Boat, which I had on the other Side the
               Island, and carry'd it down to the <hi rend="italic">East</hi> End of the whole Island, where I ran
               it into a little Cove which I found under some high Rocks, and where I knew, by
               Reason of the Currents, the Savages durst not, at least would not come with their
               Boats, upon any Account whatsoever.</p>
            <p>With my Boat I carry'd away every Thing that I had left there belonging to her,
               though not necessary for the bare going thither,
                  <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> A Mast and Sail which I had made for her, and a Thing like an
               Anchor, but indeed which could not be call'd either Anchor or Grapling; however, it
               was the best I could make of its kind: All these I remov'd,
               that there might not be the least Shadow of any Discovery, or any Appearance of any
               Boat, or of any human Habitation upon the Island.</p>
            <p>Besides this, I kept my self, as I said, more retir'd than
               ever, and seldom went from my Cell, other <pb n="206"/> than upon my constant Employment, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> To
               milk my She-goats, and manage my little Flock, in the Wood; which as it was quite on
               the other Part of the Island, was quite out of Danger; for certain it is, that these
               Savage People who sometimes haunted this Island, never came with any Thoughts of
               finding any Thing here; and consequently never wandred off from the Coast; and I
               doubt not, but they might have been several Times on Shore, after my Apprehensions of
               them had made me cautious as well as before; and indeed, I look'd back with some
               Horror upon the Thoughts of what my Condition would have
               been, if I had <ref target="chopped_" corresp="chopped">chop'd upon them</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="chopped" target="chopped_" type="gloss">Happened upon them accidentally</note>, and been discover'd before that, when
               naked and unarm'd, except with one Gun, and that loaden often only with small Shot, I walk'd every where peeping, and peeping about the
               Island, to see what I could get; what a Surprise should I have been in, if when I
               discover'd the Print of a Man's Foot, I had instead of that, seen fifteen or twenty
               Savages, and found them pursuing me, and by the Swiftness of their Running, no
               Possibility of my escaping them.</p>
            <p>The Thoughts of this sometimes sunk my very Soul within me, and distress'd my Mind so
               much, that I could not soon recover it, to think what I should have done, and how I
               not only should not have been able to resist them, but even should not have had
               Presence of Mind enough to do what I might have done; much less, what now after so
               much Consideration and Preparation I might be able to do:
               Indeed, after serious thinking of these Things, I should be very Melancholly, and
                  sometimes it would last a great while; but I resolv'd it
               at last all into Thankfulness to that Providence, which had deliver'd me from so many
               unseen Dangers, and had kept me from those Mischiefs which
                  <pb n="207"/> I could no way have been the Agent in
               delivering my self from; because I had not the least Notion of any such Thing
               depending, or the least Supposition of it being possible.</p>
            <p>This renew'd a Contemplation, which often had come to my Thoughts in former Time,
               when first I began to see the merciful Dispositions of Heaven, in the Dangers we run
               through in this Life. How wonderfully we are deliver'd, when we know nothing of it. How when we are in (a <hi rend="italic">Quandary,</hi> as we
               call it) a Doubt or Hesitation, whether to go this Way, or that Way, a secret Hint
               shall direct us this Way, when we intended to go that Way; nay, when Sense, our own
               Inclination, and perhaps Business has call'd to go the other Way, yet a strange
               Impression upon the Mind, from we know not what Springs, and by we know not what
               Power, shall over-rule us to go this Way; and it shall
               afterwards appear, that had we gone that Way which we should have gone, and even to
               our Imagination ought to have gone, we should have been ruin'd and lost: Upon these,
               and many like Reflections, I afterwards made it a certain
               Rule with me, That whenever I found those secret Hints, or
               pressings of my Mind, to doing, or not doing any Thing that presented; or to going this Way, or that Way, I never fail'd to
               obey the secret Dictate; though I knew no other Reason for it, than that such a
               Pressure, or such a Hint hung upon my Mind: I could give many Examples of the Success of this Conduct in the Course of my Life; but more
               especially in the latter Part of my inhabiting this unhappy
               Island; besides many Occasions which it is very likely I
               might have taken Notice of, if I had seen with the same Eyes then, that I saw with
               now: But 'tis never too late to be wise; and I cannot but advise all considering Men, whose Lives are attended with such extraordinary <pb n="208"/>
               Incidents as mine, or even though not so extraordinary, not to slight such secret
                  Intimations of Providence, let them come from what
                  invisible Intelligence they will, that I shall not
               discuss, and perhaps cannot account for; but certainly they are a Proof of the <ref target="converse_" corresp="converse">Converse</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="converse" target="converse_" type="gloss">Conversation or communication (of spirits with humans)</note> of Spirits, and the
                  secret Communication between those embody'd, and those
               unembody'd; and such a Proof as can never be withstood: Of which I shall have
               Occasion to give some very remarkable Instances, in the Remainder of my solitary Residence in this dismal Place.</p>
            <p>I believe the Reader of this will not think strange, if I confess that these
               Anxieties, these constant Dangers I liv'd in, and the
               Concern that was now upon me, put an End to all Invention, and to all the
               Contrivances that I had laid for my future Accommodations and Conveniencies. I had
               the Care of my Safety more now upon my Hands, than that of my Food. I car'd not to
               drive a Nail, or chop a Stick of Wood now, for fear the Noise I should make should be
               heard; much less would I fire a Gun, for the same Reason; and above all, I was
               intollerably uneasy at making any Fire, least the Smoke which is visible at a great
               Distance in the Day should betray me; and for this Reason I remov'd that Part of my Business which requir'd Fire; such as burning of Pots, and
               Pipes, <hi rend="italic">&amp;c.</hi> into my new Apartment in the Woods, where after I had been
               some time, I found to my unspeakable Consolation, a meer
               natural Cave in the Earth, which went in a vast way, and where, I dare say, no Savage, had he been at the Mouth of it, would be so hardy as
               to venture in, nor indeed, would any Man else; but one who like me, wanted nothing so
               much as a safe Retreat.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="209"/>The Mouth of this Hollow, was at the Bottom of
               a great Rock, where by meer accident, (I would say, if I did not see abundant Reason
               to ascribe all such Things now to Providence) I was cutting down some thick Branches
               of Trees, to make Charcoal; and before I go on, I must observe the Reason of my
               making this Charcoal; which was thus:</p>
            <p>I was afraid of making a Smoke about my Habitation, as I
               said before; and yet I could not live there without baking my Bread, cooking my Meat,
                  <hi rend="italic">&amp;c.</hi> so I contriv'd to burn some Wood here, as I had seen done in
                  <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> under Turf, till it became Chark, or
               dry Coal; and then putting the Fire out, I preserv'd the Coal to carry Home; and
               perform the other Services which Fire was wanting for at
               Home without Danger of Smoke.</p>
            <p>But this is by the by: While I was cutting down some Wood here, I perceiv'd that
               behind a very thick Branch of low Brushwood, or under Wood, there was a kind of
               hollow Place; I was curious to look into it, and getting with Difficulty into the
               Mouth of it, I found it was pretty large; that is to say, sufficient for me to stand
               upright in it, and perhaps another with me; but I must confess to you, I made more
               hast out than I did in, when looking farther into the Place, and which was perfectly dark, I saw two broad shining Eyes of some Creature,
               whether Devil or Man I knew not, which twinkl'd like two Stars, the dim Light from
               the Cave's Mouth shining directly in and making the Reflection.</p>
            <p>However, after some Pause, I recover'd my self, and began to call my self a thousand
               Fools, and tell my self, that he that was afraid to see the Devil, was not fit to live twenty Years in an Island all alone; and that I durst to
               believe there was nothing <pb n="210"/> in this Cave that was more frightful than my self;
               upon this, plucking up my Courage, I took up a great Firebrand, and in I rush'd
               again, with the Stick flaming in my Hand; I had not gone three Steps in, but I was
               almost as much frighted as I was before; for I heard a very loud Sigh, like that of a
               Man in some Pain, and it was follow'd by a broken Noise, <hi rend="italic">as if</hi> of Words half
               express'd, and then a deep Sigh again: I stepp'd back, and was indeed struck with
               such a Surprize, that it put me into a cold Sweat; and if I had had a Hat on my Head,
               I will not answer for it, that my Hair might not have lifted it off. But still
               plucking up my Spirits as well as I could, and encouraging my self a little with
               considering that the Power and Presence of God was every where, and was able to
               protect me; upon this I stepp'd forward again, and by the Light of the Firebrand,
               holding it up a little over my Head, I saw lying on the Ground a most monstrous
               frightful old He-goat, just making his Will, as we say, and
               gasping for Life, and dying indeed of meer old Age.</p>
            <p>I stirr'd him a little to see if I could get him out, and he essay'd to get up, but
               was not able to raise himself; and I thought with my self, he might even lie there; for if he had frighted me so, he would
               certainly fright any of the Savages, if any of them should be so hardy as to come in
               there, while he had any Life in him.</p>
            <p>I was now recover'd from my Surprize, and began to look
               round me, when I found the Cave was but very small, that is to say, it might be about
               twelve Foot over, but in no manner of Shape, either round or
               square, no Hands having ever been employ'd in making it, but those of meer Nature: I
               observ'd also, that there was a Place at the farther Side of
               it, that went in farther, but was so <pb n="211"/> low,
               that it requir'd me to creep upon my Hands and Knees to go into it, and whither I
               went I knew not; so having no Candle, I gave it over for some Time; but resolv'd to
               come again the next Day, provided with Candles, and a <ref target="tinderbox_" corresp="tinderbox">Tinder-box</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="tinderbox" target="tinderbox_" type="gloss">A box containing flint and
                  steel for striking a light to make fire</note>, which I had made of the Lock of
               one of the Muskets, with some <ref target="wildfire_" corresp="wildfire">wild-fire in the Pan</ref>. <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="wildfire" target="wildfire_" type="gloss">Dry rags or some other fuel, to catch the spark from the flint.</note>
            </p>
            <p>Accordingly the next Day, I came provided with six large Candles of my own making;
               for I made very good Candles now of <ref target="tallow_" corresp="tallow">Goat's
                  Tallow</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="tallow" target="tallow_" type="gloss">Made from mutton fat</note>; and going into this low Place, I was
               oblig'd to creep upon all Fours, <hi rend="italic">as I have said,</hi> almost ten Yards; which by
               the way, I thought was a Venture bold enough, considering that I knew not how far it
               might go, nor what was beyond it. When I was got through the <ref target="strait_" corresp="strait">Strait</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="strait" target="strait_" type="gloss">Narrow opening</note>, I found the Roof rose higher
               up, I believe near twenty Foot; but never was such a glorious Sight seen in the Island, I dare say, as it was, to look round the Sides and
               Roof of this Vault, or Cave; the Walls reflected 100 thousand Lights to me from my
               two Candles; what it was in Rock, whether Diamonds, or any
               other precious Stones, or Gold, which I rather suppos'd it to be, I knew not.</p>
            <p>The Place I was in, was a most delightful Cavity, or Grotto,
               of its kind, as could be expected, though perfectly dark; the Floor was dry and
               level, and had a sort of small lose Gravel upon it, so that there was no nauseous or
               venemous Creature to be seen, neither was there any damp, or wet, on the Sides or
               Roof: The only Difficulty in it was the Entrance, which
               however as it was a Place of Security, and such a Retreat as I wanted, I thought that
               was a Convenience; so that I was really rejoyc'd at the Discovery, and resolv'd without any Delay, to bring some of those Things
               which I was most anxious about, to this <pb n="212"/>
               Place; particularly, I resolv'd to bring hither my Magazine of Powder, and all my
               spare Arms, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> Two Fowling-Pieces, for I had three in all; and three
               Muskets, for of them I had eight in all; so I kept at my Castle only five, which
               stood ready mounted like Pieces of Cannon, on my out-most Fence; and were ready also
               to take out upon any Expedition.</p>
            <p>Upon this Occasion of removing my Ammunition, I took
               occasion to open the Barrel of Powder which I took up out of
               the Sea, and which had been wet; and I found that the Water had penetrated about
               three or four Inches into the Powder, on every Side, which caking and growing hard, had preserv'd the inside like a Kernel in a Shell;
               so that I had near sixty Pound of very good Powder in the Center of the Cask, and
               this was an agreeable Discovery to me at that Time; so I carry'd all away thither,
               never keeping above two or three Pound of Powder with me in my Castle, for fear of a
               Surprize of any kind: I also carry'd thither all the Lead I had left for Bullets.</p>
            <p>I fancy'd my self now like one of the ancient Giants, which are said to live in
               Caves; and Holes, in the Rocks, where none could come at them; for I perswaded my
               self while I was here, if five hundred Savages were to hunt me, they could never find me out; or if they did, they would not venture to
               attack me here.</p>
            <p>The old Goat who I found expiring, dy'd in the Mouth of the Cave, the next Day after
               I made this Discovery; and I found it much easier to dig a great Hole there, and
               throw him in, and cover him with Earth, than to drag him
               out; so I interr'd him there, to prevent the Offence to my Nose.</p>
            
               <pb n="213"/>
                  
                  <head> <ref target="Audio15_" corresp="Audio15">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio15" target="Audio15_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_15_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
                  <p>I was now in my twenty third Year of Residence in this Island, and was so naturaliz'd to the Place,
               and to the Manner of Living, that could I have but enjoy'd the Certainty that no
               Savages would come to the Place to disturb me, I could have been content to have
               capitulated for spending the rest of my Time there, even to the last Moment, till I had laid me down and dy'd, like the old Goat in
               the Cave. I had also arriv'd to some little Diversions and Amusements, which made the
               Time pass more pleasantly with me a great deal, than it did before; as First, I had
               taught my Poll, as I noted before, to speak; and he did it so familiarly, and talk'd
               so articulately and plain, that it was very pleasant to me; and he liv'd with me no
               less than six and twenty Years: How long he might live afterwards, I know not; though
               I know they have a Notion in the <hi rend="italic">Brasils,</hi> that they live a hundred Years; perhaps poor Poll may be alive there still,
               calling after <hi rend="italic">Poor Robin Crusoe</hi> to this Day. I wish no <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Man
               the ill Luck to come there and hear him; but if he did, he would certainly believe it
               was the Devil. My Dog was a very pleasant and loving Companion to me, for no less
               than sixteen Years of my Time, and then dy'd, of meer old
               Age; as for my Cats, they multiply'd as I have observ'd to that Degree, that I was
               oblig'd to shoot several of them at first, to keep them from devouring me, and all I had; but at length, when the two old Ones
               I brought with me were gone, and after some time continually driving them from me,
               and letting them have no Provision with me, they all ran wild into the Woods, except
               two or three Favourites, which I kept tame; and whose Young when they had any, I
               always drown'd; and these were part of my Family: Besides these, I always kept two or
               three houshold Kids about me, who I <pb n="214"/> taught to
               feed out of my Hand; and I had two more Parrots which talk'd pretty well, and would
               all call <hi rend="italic">Robin Crusoe</hi>; but none like my first; nor indeed did I take the Pains with any of them that I had done with him. I had also
               several tame Sea-Fowls, whose Names I know not, who I caught upon the Shore, and cut
               their Wings; and the little Stakes which I had planted
               before my Castle Wall being now grown up to a good thick Grove, these Fowls all liv'd
               among these low Trees, and bred there, which was very agreeable to me; so that as I
               said above, I began to be very well contented with the Life
               I led, if it might but have been secur'd from the dread of the Savages.</p>
            <p>But <ref target="providence_" corresp="providence">it was otherwise
                  directed</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="providence" target="providence_" type="gloss">Providence decreed otherwise</note>; and it may
               not be amiss for all People who shall meet with my Story, to make this just
               Observation from it, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> How frequently in the Course of our Lives, the
               Evil which in it self we seek most to shun, and which when we are fallen into it, is
               the most dreadful to us, is oftentimes the very Means or Door of our Deliverance, by
               which alone we can be rais'd again from the Affliction we are fallen into. I cou'd
               give many Examples of this in the Course of my unaccountable
               Life; but in nothing was it more particularly remarkable,
               than in the Circumstances of my last Years of solitary Residence in this Island.</p>
            <p>It was now the Month of <hi rend="italic">December,</hi> as I said above,
               in my twenty third Year; and this being the <hi rend="italic">Southern</hi> Solstice, for Winter I
               cannot call it, was the particular Time of my Harvest, and requir'd my being pretty
               much abroad in the Fields, when going out pretty early in the Morning, even before it
               was thorow Day-light, I was surpriz'd with seeing a Light of
               some Fire upon the Shore, at a Distance from me, of about
               two Mile towards the End of the Island, where I had observ'd some Savages <pb n="215"/> had been as
               before; but not on the other Side; but to my great Affliction, it was on my Side of
               the Island.</p>
            <p>I was indeed terribly surpriz'd at the Sight, and stepp'd short within my Grove, not
               daring to go out, least I might be surpriz'd; and yet I had no more Peace within,
               from the Apprehensions I had, that if these Savages in rambling over the Island,
               should find my Corn standing, or cut, or any of my Works and Improvements, they would
                  immediately conclude, that there were People in the
               Place, and would then never give over till they had found me out: In this Extremity I
               went back directly to my Castle, pull'd up the Ladder after me, and made all Things
               without look as wild and natural as I could.</p>
            <p>Then I prepar'd my self within, putting my self in a Posture of Defence; I loaded all
               my Cannon, as I call'd them; that is to say, my Muskets, which were mounted upon my
               new Fortification, and all my Pistols, and resolv'd to defend my self to the last
               Gasp, not forgetting seriously to commend my self to the Divine Protection, and
               earnestly to pray to God to deliver me out of the Hands of the Barbarians; and in
               this Posture I continu'd about two Hours; but began to be mighty impatient for
               Intelligence abroad, for I had no Spies to send out.</p>
            <p>After sitting a while longer, and musing what I should do in this Case, I was not
               able to bear sitting in Ignorance any longer; so setting up
               my Ladder to the Side of the Hill, where there was a flat
               Place, as I observ'd before, and then pulling the Ladder up after me, I set it up
               again, and mounted to the Top of the Hill; and pulling out
               my Perspective Glass, which I had taken on Purpose, I laid me down flat on my Belly,
               on the Ground, and began to look for the Place; I presently found <pb n="216"/> there was no less than nine naked Savages, sitting
               round a small Fire, they had made, not to warm them; for they had no need of that,
               the Weather being extreme hot; but as I suppos'd, to dress some of their barbarous
               Diet, of humane Flesh, which they had brought with them, whether alive or dead I
               could not know.</p>
            <p>They had two <hi rend="italic">Canoes</hi> with them, which they had haled up upon the Shore; and
               as it was then Tide of Ebb, they seem'd to me to wait for the Return of the Flood, to
               go away again; it is not easy to imagine what Confusion this Sight put me into,
               especially seeing them come on my Side the Island, and so near me too; but when I
               observ'd their coming must be always with the Current of the Ebb, I began afterwards
               to be more sedate in my Mind, being satisfy'd that I might go abroad with Safety all
               the Time of the Tide of Flood, if they were not on Shore before: And having made this
               Observation, I went abroad about my Harvest Work with the more Composure.</p>
            <p>As I expected, so it prov'd; for as soon as the Tide made to the <hi rend="italic">Westward,</hi> I
               saw them all take Boat, and row (or paddle as we call it) all away: I should have
               observ'd, that for an Hour and more before they went off, they went to dancing, and I
               could easily discern their Postures, and Gestures, by my Glasses: I could not
               perceive by my <ref target="nicest_" corresp="nicest">nicest</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="nicest" target="nicest_" type="gloss">Most
                  careful</note> Observation, but that they were stark naked, and had not the least
               covering upon them; but whether they were Men or Women, that I could not distinguish.</p>
            <p>As soon as I saw them shipp'd, and gone, I took two Guns upon my Shoulders, and two
               Pistols at my Girdle, and my great Sword by my Side, without
               a Scabbard, and with all the Speed I was able to make, I went away to the Hill, where
               I had discover'd <pb n="217"/> the
               first Appearance of all; and as soon as I gat thither, which was not less than two
               Hours; for I could not go apace, being so loaden with Arms as I was. I perceiv'd
               there had been three <hi rend="italic">Canoes</hi> more of Savages on that Place; and looking out
               farther, I saw they were all at Sea together, making over
               for the Main.</p>
            <p>This was a dreadful Sight to me, especially when going down to the Shore, I could see
               the Marks of Horror, which the dismal Work they had been about had left behind it, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> The Blood, the Bones, and part of the Flesh
               of humane Bodies, eaten and devour'd by those Wretches, with Merriment and Sport: I
               was so fill'd with Indignation at the Sight, that I began now to premeditate the
               Destruction of the next that I saw there, let them be who, or how many soever.</p>
            <p>It seem'd evident to me, that the Visits which they thus make to this Island, are not
               very frequent; for it was above fifteen Months before any
               more of them came on Shore there again; that is to say, I neither saw them, or any
               Footsteps, or Signals of them, in all that Time; for as to the rainy Seasons, then
               they are sure not to come abroad, at least not so far; yet
               all this while I liv'd uncomfortably, by reason of the constant Apprehensions I was in of their coming upon me by Surprize; from
               whence I observe, that the Expectation of Evil is more
               bitter than the Suffering, especially if there is no room to shake off that
               Expectation, or those Apprehensions.</p>
            <p>During all this Time, I was in the murthering Humour; and took up most of my Hours,
               which should have been better employ'd, in contriving how to circumvent, and fall
               upon them, the very next Time I should see them; especially if they should be
               divided, as they were the last Time, into <pb n="218"/> two Parties; nor did I consider at all, that if I
               kill'd one Party, suppose Ten, or a Dozen, I was still the next Day, or Week, or
               Month, to kill another, and so another, even <hi rend="italic">ad infinitum,</hi> till I should be
               at length no less a Murtherer than they were in being Man-eaters; and perhaps much
               more so.</p>
            <p>I spent my Days now in great Perplexity, and Anxiety of Mind, expecting that I should
               one Day or other fall into the Hands of these merciless Creatures; and if I did at any Time venture abroad, it was not without looking round me
               with the greatest Care and Caution imaginable; and now I
               found to my great Comfort, how <ref target="happy_" corresp="happy">happy</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="happy" target="happy_" type="gloss">Fortunate</note> it was that I provided for a tame Flock or Herd of Goats; for I
               durst not upon any account fire my Gun, especially near that
               Side of the Island where they usually came, least I should alarm the Savages; and if
               they had fled from me now, I was sure to have them come back again, with perhaps two
               or three hundred <hi rend="italic">Canoes</hi> with them, in a few Days, and then I knew what to
               expect.</p>
            <p>However, I wore out a Year and three Months more, before I ever saw any more of the
               Savages, and then I found them again, as I shall soon observe. It is true, they might
               have been there once, or twice; but either they made no stay, or at least I did not
               hear them; but in the Month of <hi rend="italic">May,</hi> as near as I could calculate, and in my
               four and twentieth Year, I had a very strange Encounter with them, of which in its
               Place.</p>
            <p>The Perturbation of my Mind, during this fifteen or sixteen
               Months Interval, was very great; I slept unquiet, dream'd always frightful Dreams,
               and often started out of my Sleep in the Night: In the Day great Troubles overwhelm'd
               my Mind, and in the Night I dream'd often of killing the <pb n="219"/> Savages, and of the Reasons why I might justify the
               doing of it; but to <ref target="waive_" corresp="waive">wave</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="waive" target="waive_" type="gloss">Waive,
                  set aside</note> all this for a while; it was in the middle of <hi rend="italic">May,</hi> on
               the sixteenth Day I think, as well as my poor wooden Calendar would reckon; for I
               markt all upon the Post still; I say, it was the sixteenth of <hi rend="italic">May,</hi> that it
               blew a very great Storm of Wind, all Day, with a great deal of Lightning, and
               Thunder, and a very foul Night it was after it; I know not what was the particular
               Occasion of it; but as I was reading in the Bible, and taken up with very serious
               Thoughts about my present Condition, I was surpriz'd with a Noise of a Gun as I
               thought fir'd at Sea.</p>
            <p>This was to be sure a Surprize of a quite different Nature
               from any I had met with before; for the Notions this put into my Thoughts, were quite
               of another kind. I started up in the greatest hast imaginable, and in a trice clapt
               my Ladder to the middle Place of the Rock, and pull'd it after me, and mounting it
               the second Time, got to the Top of the Hill, the very Moment, that a Flash of Fire
               bid me listen for a second Gun, which accordingly, in about half a Minute I heard;
               and by the sound, knew that it was from that Part of the Sea where I was driven down
               the Current in my Boat.</p>
            <p>I immediately consider'd that this must be some Ship in Distress, and that they had
               some Comrade, or some other Ship in Company, and fir'd these Guns for Signals of
               Distress, and to obtain Help: I had this Presence of Mind at that Minute, as to think
               that though I could not help them, it may be they might help me; so I brought
               together all the dry Wood I could get at hand, and making a good handsome Pile, I set
               it on Fire upon the Hill; the Wood was dry, and blaz'd freely; and though the Wind
               blew very hard, yet it burnt fairly out; that I was certain, if there was any such
               Thing as a <pb n="220"/> Ship, they must needs see it, and
               no doubt they did; for as soon as ever my Fire blaz'd up, I heard another Gun, and
               after that several others, all from the same Quarter; I ply'd my Fire all Night long,
               till Day broke; and when it was broad Day, and the Air clear'd up, I saw something at
               a great Distance at Sea, full <hi rend="italic">East</hi> of the Island,
               whether a Sail, or a Hull, I could not distinguish, no not with my Glasses, the
               Distance was so great, and the Weather still something haizy also; at least it was so
               out at Sea.</p>
            <p>I look'd frequently at it all that Day, and soon perceiv'd that it did not move; so I
               presently concluded, that it was a Ship at an Anchor, and
               being eager, you may be sure, to be satisfy'd, I took my Gun in my Hand, and run
               toward the <hi rend="italic">South</hi> Side of the Island, to the Rocks where I had formerly been
               carry'd away with the Current, and getting up there, the Weather by this Time being
               perfectly clear, I could plainly see to my great Sorrow, the Wreck of a Ship cast
               away in the Night, upon those concealed Rocks which I found, when I was out in my
               Boat; and which Rocks, as they check'd the Violence of the Stream, and made a kind of
               Counter-stream, or Eddy, were the Occasion of my recovering from the most desperate
               hopeless Condition that ever I had been in, in all my
               Life.</p>
            <p>Thus what is one Man's Safety, is another Man's Destruction; for it seems these Men,
               whoever they were, being out of their Knowledge, and the Rocks being wholly under
               Water, had been driven upon them in the Night, the Wind blowing hard at <hi rend="italic">E.</hi>
               and <hi rend="italic">E. N. E:</hi> Had they seen the Island, as I must necessarily suppose they
               did not, they must, as I thought, have endeavour'd to have sav'd themselves on Shore
               by the Help of their Boat; but their firing of Guns for Help, especially when they
               saw, as I <pb n="221"/> imagin'd, my Fire, fill'd me with
               many Thoughts: First, I imagin'd that upon seeing my Light, they might have put
               themselves into their Boat, and have endeavour'd to make the Shore; but that the Sea
               going very high, they might have been cast away; other Times
               I imagin'd, that they might have lost their Boat before, as might be the Case many
               Ways; as particularly by the Breaking of the Sea upon their Ship, <ref target="breaking_" corresp="breaking">which many Times obliges Men to stave, or
                  take in Pieces their Boat</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="breaking" target="breaking_" type="gloss">If the violent storm damaged the
                  lifeboat, the men would be forced to break apart the ruined boat and throw it
                  overboard, to alleviate excess weight on the sinking ship.</note>; and sometimes
               to throw it over-board with their own Hands: Other Times I imagin'd, they had some
               other Ship, or Ships in Company, who upon the Signals of Distress they had made, had
               taken them up, and carry'd them off: Other whiles I fancy'd, they were all gone off
               to Sea in their Boat, and being hurry'd away by the Current
               that I had been formerly in, were carry'd out into the great Ocean, where there was
               nothing but Misery and Perishing; and that perhaps they might by this Time think of
               starving, and of being in a Condition to eat one another.</p>
            <p>As all these were but Conjectures at best; so in the Condition I was in, I could do
               no more than look on upon the Misery of the poor Men, and pity them, which had still
               this good Effect on my Side, that it gave me more and more Cause to give Thanks to
               God who had so happily and comfortably provided for me in my desolate Condition; and that of two Ships Companies who were now cast
               away upon this part of the World, not one Life should be spar'd but mine: I learn'd
               here again to observe, that it is very rare that the Providence of God casts us into any Condition of Life so low, or any Misery so great,
               but we may see something or other to be thankful for; and may see others in worse
               Circumstances than our own.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="222"/>Such certainly was the Case of these Men, of
               whom I could not so much as see room to suppose any of them
               were sav'd; nothing could make it rational, so much as to wish, or expect that they
               did not all perish there; except the Possibility only of their being taken up by
               another Ship in Company, and this was but meer Possibility
               indeed; for I saw not the least Signal or Appearance of any such Thing.</p>
            <p>I cannot explain by any possible Energy of Words, what a strange longing or hankering
               of Desires I felt in my Soul upon this Sight; breaking out sometimes thus; O that there had been but one or two; nay, or
               but one Soul sav'd out of this Ship, to have escap'd to me, that I might but have had
               one Companion, one Fellow-Creature to have spoken to me, and
               to have convers'd with! In all the Time of my solitary Life, I never felt so earnest,
               so strong a Desire after the Society of my Fellow-Creatures, or so deep a Regret at
               the want of it.</p>
            <p>There are some secret moving Springs in the Affections,
               which when they are set a going by some Object in view, or be it some Object, though
               not in view, yet rendred present to the Mind by the Power of Imagination, that Motion
               carries out the Soul by its Impetuosity to such violent eager embracings of the Object, that the Absence of it is insupportable.</p>
            <p>Such were these earnest Wishings, That but one Man had been sav'd! <hi rend="italic">O that it had
                  been but One!</hi> I believe I repeated the Words, <hi rend="italic">O that it had been but
                  One!</hi> A thousand Times; and the Desires were so mov'd by it, that when I spoke
               the Words, my Hands would clinch together, and my Fingers press the Palms of my
               Hands, that if I had had any soft Thing in my Hand, it wou'd have crusht it involuntarily; and my Teeth in my Head wou'd strike <pb n="223"/> together, and set against one another so strong, that
               for some time I cou'd not part them again.</p>
            <p>Let the Naturalists explain these Things, and the Reason and Manner of them; all I
               can say to them, is, to describe the Fact, which was even surprising to me when I
                  <ref target="find_" corresp="find">found it</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="find" target="find_" type="gloss">Experienced these emotions</note>; though I knew not from what it should proceed;
               it was doubtless the effect of ardent Wishes, and of strong Ideas form'd in my Mind,
               realizing the Comfort, which the Conversation of one of my Fellow-Christians would
               have been to me.</p>
            <p>But it was not to be; either their Fate or mine, or both, forbid it; for till the
               last Year of my being on this Island, I never knew whether any were saved out of that Ship or no; and had only the Affliction some Days after, to see the Corps of a drownded Boy come on Shore, at the End of the Island which was
                  <ref target="next_" corresp="next">next</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="next" target="next_" type="gloss">Nearest</note> the Shipwreck: He had on
               no Cloaths, but a Seaman's Wastcoat, a pair of open knee'd Linnen Drawers, and a blew
               Linnen Shirt; but nothing to direct me so much as to guess what Nation he was of: He
               had nothing in his Pocket, but two Pieces of Eight, and a Tobacco Pipe; the last was
               to me of ten times more value than the first.</p>
            <p>It was now calm, and I had a great mind to venture out in my Boat, to this Wreck; not
                  doubting but I might find something on board, that might
               be useful to me; but that did not altogether press me so much, as the Possibility
               that there might be yet some living Creature on board, whose Life I might not only
               save, but might by saving that Life, comfort my own to the last Degree; and this
               Thought clung so to my Heart, that I could not be quiet, Night or Day, but I must
               venture out in my Boat on board this Wreck; and committing the rest to God's
               Providence, I thought <pb n="224"/> the Impression was so
               strong upon my Mind, that it could not be resisted, that it must come from some
               invisible Direction, and that I should be wanting to my self
               if I did not go.</p>
            <p>Under the Power of this Impression, I hasten'd back to my Castle, prepar'd every
               Thing for my Voyage, took a Quantity of Bread, a great Pot for fresh Water, a Compass
               to steer by, a Bottle of Rum; for I had still a great deal of that left; a Basket full of Raisins: And thus loading my self with every
               Thing necessary, I went down to my Boat, got the Water out of her, and got her
               afloat, loaded all my Cargo in her, and then went Home again for more; my second Cargo was a great Bag full of Rice,
               the Umbrella to set up over my Head for Shade; another large Pot full of fresh Water,
               and about two Dozen of my small Loaves, or Barley Cakes, more than before, with a
               Bottle of Goat's-Milk, and a Cheese; all which, with great Labour and Sweat, I
               brought to my Boat; and praying to God to direct my Voyage, I put out, and Rowing or
               Padling the Canoe along the Shore, I came at last to the utmost Point of the Island on that Side, <hi rend="italic">(viz.) N. E.</hi> And now I was to
               launch out into the Ocean, and either to venture, or not to venture. I look'd on the
               rapid Currents which ran constantly on both Sides of the Island, at a Distance, and
               which were very terrible to me, from the Remembrance of the Hazard I had been in
               before, and my Heart began to fail me; for I foresaw that if I was driven into either
               of those Currents, I should be carry'd a vast Way out to Sea, and perhaps out of my
               Reach, or Sight of the Island again; and that then, as my Boat was but small, if any
               little Gale of Wind should rise, I should be inevitably lost.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="225"/>These Thoughts so oppress'd my Mind, that I
               began to give over my Enterprize, and having haled my Boat
               into a little Creek on the Shore, I stept out, and sat me down upon a little rising
               bit of Ground, very pensive and anxious, between Fear and Desire about my Voyage;
               when as I was musing, I could perceive that the Tide was turn'd, and the Flood come
               on, upon which my going was for so many Hours impracticable; upon this presently it occurr'd to me, that I should go up to the highest
               Piece of Ground I could find, and observe, if I could, how the Sets of the Tide, or
               Currents lay, when the Flood came in, that I might judge whether if I was driven one
               way out, I might not expect to be driven another way home, with the same Rapidness of
               the Currents: This Thought was no sooner in my Head, but I cast my Eye upon a little Hill, which sufficiently over-look'd the Sea
               both ways, and from whence I had a clear view of the Currents, or Sets of the Tide,
               and which way I was to guide my self in my Return; here I found, that as the Current
               of the Ebb set out close by the South Point of the Island; so the Current of the
               Flood set in close by the Shore of the North Side, and that I had nothing to do but
               to keep to the North of the Island in my Return, and I should do well enough.</p>
            <p>Encourag'd with this Observation, I resolv'd the next Morning to set out with the
               first of the Tide; and reposing my self for the Night in the Canoe, under the great
               Watch-coat, I mention'd, I launched out: I made first a little out to Sea full North,
               till I began to feel the Benefit of the Current, which set
               Eastward, and which carry'd me at a great rate, and yet did not so hurry me as the
               Southern Side Current had done before, and so as to take from me all Government of
               the Boat; but having a <pb n="226"/> strong Steerage with
               my Paddle, I went at a great rate, directly for the Wreck, and in less than two Hours
               I came up to it.</p>
            <p>It was a dismal Sight to look at: The Ship, which by its building was
                  <hi rend="italic">Spanish,</hi> stuck fast, jaum'd in between two Rocks; all the Stern and
               Quarter of her was beaten to pieces, with the Sea; and as her Forecastle, which stuck
               in the Rocks, had run on with great Violence, her Mainmast and Foremast were brought
               by the Board; that is to say, broken short off; but her <ref target="boltspirit_" corresp="boltspirit">Boltsprit</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="boltspirit" target="boltspirit_" type="gloss">Bowsprit; a large spar or
                  beam extending forth from the front of a ship</note> was sound, and the Head and
               Bow appear'd firm; when I came close to her, a Dog appear'd upon her, who seeing me
               coming, yelp'd, and cry'd; and as soon as I call'd him, jump'd into the Sea, to come
               to me, and I took him into the Boat; but found him almost dead for Hunger and Thirst:
               I gave him a Cake of my Bread, and he eat it like a ravenous Wolf, that had been
               starving a Fortnight in the Snow: I then gave the poor Creature some fresh Water,
               with which, if I would have let him, he would have burst himself.</p>
            <p>After this I went on board; but the first Sight I met with, was two Men drown'd, in
               the Cookroom, or Forecastle of the Ship, with their Arms
               fast about one another: I concluded, as is indeed probable, that when the Ship
               struck, it being in a Storm, the Sea broke so high, and so continually over her, that
               the Men were not able to bear it, and were strangled with the constant rushing in of
               the Water, as much as if they had been under Water. Besides
               the Dog, there was nothing left in the Ship that had Life; nor any Goods that I could
               see, but what were spoil'd by the Water. There were some Casks of Liquor, whether
               Wine or Brandy, I knew not, which lay lower in the Hold; and which, the Water being
               ebb'd out, I <pb n="227"/> could see; but they were too big
               to meddle with: I saw several Chests, which I believ'd belong'd to some of the
               Seamen; and I got two of them into the Boat, without examining what was in them.</p>
            <p>Had the Stern of the Ship been fix'd, and the Forepart broken off, I am perswaded I
               might have made a good Voyage; for by what I found in these two Chests, I had room to
               suppose, the Ship had a great deal of Wealth on board; and if I may guess by the
               Course she steer'd, she must have been bound from the <hi rend="italic">Buenos Ayres,</hi> or the
                  <hi rend="italic">Rio de la Plata,</hi> in the South Part of <hi rend="italic">America,</hi> beyond the
                  <hi rend="italic">Brasils,</hi> to the <hi rend="italic">Havana,</hi> in the Gulph of <hi rend="italic">Mexico,</hi> and so
                  perhaps to <ref target="bullion_" corresp="bullion">Spain:</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="bullion" target="bullion_" type="gloss">In the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries, Spain grew
                  wealthy on imports of gold, silver, and sugar from its Latin American colonies,
                  eventually causing enormous inflation throughout Western Europe. Buenos Aires
                  exported silver to Spain.</note> She had no doubt a great Treasure in her; but of
               no use at that time to any body; and what became of the rest of her People, I then
               knew not.</p>
            <p>I found besides these Chests, a little Cask full of Liquor, of about twenty Gallons,
               which I got into my Boat, with much Difficulty; there were several Muskets in a
               Cabin, and a great Powder-horn, with about 4 Pounds of Powder in it; as for the
               Muskets, I had no occasion for them; so I left them, but took the Powder-horn: I took
               a Fire Shovel and Tongs, which I wanted extremely; as also two little Brass Kettles,
               a Copper Pot to make Chocolate, and a Gridiron; and with
               this Cargo, and the Dog, I came away, the Tide beginning to make home again; and the
               same Evening, about an Hour within Night, I reach'd the Island again, weary and
               fatigu'd to the last Degree.</p>
            <p>I repos'd that Night in the Boat, and in the Morning I
               resolved to harbour what I had gotten in my new Cave, not to carry it home to my
               Castle. After refreshing my self, I got all my Cargo on
               Shore, and began to examine the Particulars: The Cask of Liquor I found to be a kind
               of Rum, but not such <pb n="228"/> as we had at the
                  <hi rend="italic">Brasils</hi>; and in a Word, not at all good; but when I came to open the
               Chests, I found several Things, of great use to me: For Example, I found in one, a
               fine Case of Bottles, of an extraordinary kind, and fill'd with Cordial Waters, fine, and very good; the Bottles held about three
               Pints each, and were tipp'd with Silver: I found two Pots of very good <ref target="succades_" corresp="succades">Succades</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="succades" target="succades_" type="gloss">Candied fruit</note>, or Sweetmeats, so fastned also on
               top, that the Salt Water had not hurt them; and two more of the same, which the Water
               had spoil'd: I found some very good Shirts, which were very welcome to me; and about
               a dozen and half of Linnen white Handkerchiefs, and colour'd
               Neckcloths; the former were also very welcome, being exceeding refreshing to wipe my
               Face in a hot Day; besides this, when I came to the <ref target="till_" corresp="till">Till</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="till" target="till_" type="gloss">Drawer, especially for holding money</note> in the
               Chest, I found there three great Bags of Pieces of Eight, which held about eleven
               hundred Pieces in all; and in one of them, wrapt up in a Paper, six <ref target="doubloon_" corresp="doubloon">Doubloons</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="doubloon" target="doubloon_" type="gloss">Spanish coin</note> of Gold, and some small Bars or Wedges of Gold; I suppose
               they might all weigh near a Pound.</p>
            <p>The other Chest I found had some Cloaths in it, but of little Value; but by the
               Circumstances it must have belong'd to the Gunner's Mate; though there was no Powder
               in it; but about two Pound of fine <ref target="powder_" corresp="powder">glaz'd
                  Powder</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="powder" target="powder_" type="gloss">The process of glazing involves tumbling the gunpowder grains in
                  revolving drums with graphite, to smooth them and make them water
                  resistant.</note>, in three small Flasks, kept, I suppose, for charging their
               Fowling-Pieces on occasion: Upon the whole, I got very
               little by this Voyage, that was of any use to me; for as to the Money, I had no
               manner of occasion for it: 'Twas to me as the Dirt under my Feet; and I would have
               given it all for three or four pair of <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Shoes and Stockings, which
               were Things I greatly wanted, but had not had on my Feet now
               for many Years: I had indeed gotten two pair of Shoes now, which I took off of the
               Feet of the <pb n="229"/> two drown'd Men, who I saw in the
               Wreck; and I found two pair more in one of the Chests, which were very welcome to me;
               but they were not like our <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Shoes, either for Ease, or Service; being rather what we call <ref target="pump_" corresp="pump">Pumps</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="pump" target="pump_" type="gloss">Heeled shoes</note>, than Shoes: I found in this Seaman's Chest,
               about fifty Pieces of Eight in <ref target="real_" corresp="real">Ryals</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="real" target="real_" type="gloss">Reals,
                  another unit of Spanish currency (not to be confused with Iranian rials)</note>,
               but no Gold; I suppose this belong'd to a poorer Man than
               the other, which seem'd to belong to some Officer.</p>
            <p>Well, however, I lugg'd this Money home to my Cave, and laid it up, as I had done
               that before, which I brought from our own Ship; but it was great Pity as I said, that
               the other Part of this Ship had not come to my Share; for I am satisfy'd I might have
               loaded my <hi rend="italic">Canoe</hi> several Times over with Money,
               which if I had ever escap'd to <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> would have lain here safe enough,
               till I might have come again and fetch'd it.</p>
            <head> <ref target="Audio16_" corresp="Audio16">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio16" target="Audio16_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_16_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            <p>Having now brought all my Things on Shore, and secur'd them, I went back to my Boat,
               and row'd, or paddled her along the Shore, to her old Harbour, where I laid her up,
               and made the best of my way to my old Habitation, where I found every thing safe and
               quiet; so I began to repose my self, live after my old fashion, and take care of my
               Family Affairs; and for a while, I liv'd easy enough; only that I was more vigilant
               than I us'd to be, look'd out oftner, and did not go abroad so much; and if at any
               time I did stir with any Freedom, it was always to the <hi rend="italic">East</hi> Part of the
               Island, where I was pretty well satisfy'd the Savages never
               came, and where I could go without so many Precautions, and such a Load of Arms and
               Ammunition, as I always carry'd with me, if I went the other way.</p>
            <p>I liv'd in this Condition near two Years more; but my unlucky Head, that was always
               to let me <pb n="230"/> know it was born to make my Body
               miserable, was all this two Years fill'd with Projects and Designs, how, if it were
               possible, I might get away from this Island; for sometimes I was for making another Voyage to the Wreck, though my Reason told me
               that there was nothing left there, worth the Hazard of my Voyage: Sometimes for a
               Ramble one way, sometimes another; and I believe verily, if
               I had had the Boat that I went from <hi rend="italic">Sallee</hi> in, I should have ventur'd to
               Sea, bound any where, I knew not whither.</p>
            <p>I have been in all my Circumstances a <hi rend="italic">Memento</hi> to those who are touch'd with
               the general Plague of Mankind, whence, for ought I know, one half of their Miseries
               flow; I mean, that of not being satisfy'd with the Station wherein God and Nature has plac'd them; for not to look back upon my primitive
               Condition, and the excellent Advice of my Father, the Opposition to which, was,
                  <hi rend="italic">as I may call it,</hi> my <ref target="originalsin_" corresp="originalsin">ORIGINAL SIN</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="originalsin" target="originalsin_" type="gloss">Alluding to Adam and Eve's consumption of the
                  forbidden fruit, termed "original sin" in the Christian tradition.</note>; my
               subsequent Mistakes of the same kind had been the Means of my coming into this
               miserable Condition; for had that Providence, which so happily had seated me at the
                  <hi rend="italic">Brasils,</hi> as a Planter, bless'd me with confin'd Desires, and I could have
               been contented to have gone on gradually, I might have been by this Time; <hi rend="italic">I mean,
                  in the Time of my being in this Island,</hi> one of the
               most considerable Planters in the <hi rend="italic">Brasils,</hi> nay, I am perswaded, that by the
                  Improvements I had made, in that little Time I liv'd
               there, and the Encrease I should probably have made, if I had stay'd, I might have
               been worth an hundred thousand <ref target="moydors_" corresp="moydors">Moydors</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="moydors" target="moydors_" type="gloss">Moidores (archaic), a unit of Portuguese
                  currency.</note>; and what Business had I to leave a settled Fortune, a well
               stock'd Plantation, improving and encreasing, to turn <ref target="supracargo_" corresp="supracargo">Supra-Cargo</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="supracargo" target="supracargo_" type="gloss">An official on a merchant
                  ship responsible for overseeing the cargo and its sale.</note> to <hi rend="italic">Guinea,</hi>
               to fetch Negroes; when Patience and Time would have so encreas'd our Stock at <pb n="231"/> Home, that we could have bought them at our
               own Door, from those whose Business it was to fetch them; and though it had cost us
               something more, yet the Difference of that Price was by no Means worth saving, at so
               great a Hazard.</p>
            <p>But as this is ordinarily the Fate of young Heads, so Reflection upon the Folly of
               it, is as ordinarily the Exercise of more Years, or of the dear bought Experience of
               Time; and so it was with me now; and yet so deep had the Mistake taken root in my
               Temper, that I could not satisfy my self in my Station, but was continually poring
               upon the Means, and Possibility of my Escape from this Place; and that I may with the
               greater Pleasure to the Reader, bring on the remaining Part
               of my Story, it may not be improper, to give some Account of my first Conceptions on
               the Subject of this foolish Scheme, for my Escape; and how, and upon what Foundation
               I acted.</p>
            <p>I am now to be suppos'd retir'd into my Castle, after my late Voyage to the Wreck, my
               Frigate laid up, and secur'd under Water, as usual, and my Condition restor'd to what it was before: I had more Wealth indeed than I had before,
               but was not at all the richer; for I had no more use for it, than the
                  <hi rend="italic">Indians</hi> of <hi rend="italic">Peru</hi> had, before the <hi rend="italic">Spaniards</hi> came
               there.</p>
            <p>It was one of the Nights in the rainy Season in <hi rend="italic">March,</hi> the four and
               twentieth Year of my first setting Foot in this Island of
               Solitariness; I was lying in my Bed, or Hammock, awake, very well in Health, had no
               Pain, no Distemper, no Uneasiness of Body; no, nor any Uneasiness of Mind, more than
               ordinary; but could by no means close my Eyes; that is, so as to sleep; no, not a
               Wink all Night long, otherwise than as follows:</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="232"/>It is as impossible, as needless, to set down
               the innumerable Crowd of Thoughts that whirl'd through that great thorow-fare of the
               Brain, the Memory, in this Night's Time: I run over the whole History of my Life in
               Miniature, or by Abridgment, <hi rend="italic">as I may call it,</hi> to
               my coming to this Island; and also of the Part of my Life, since I came to this
               Island. In my Reflections upon the State of my Case, since I came on Shore on this
                  Island, I was comparing the happy Posture of my Affairs,
               in the first Years of my Habitation here, compar'd to the Life of Anxiety, Fear and
               Care, which I had liv'd ever since I had seen the Print of a Foot in the Sand; not
               that I did not believe the Savages had frequented the Island even all the while, and
               might have been several Hundreds of them at Times on Shore there; but I had never
               known it, and was incapable of any Apprehensions about it; my Satisfaction was
               perfect, though my Danger was the same; and I was as happy in not knowing my Danger,
               as if I had never really been expos'd to it: This furnish'd my Thoughts with many
               very profitable Reflections, and particularly this one, How infinitely Good that
               Providence is, which has provided in its Government of Mankind, such narrow bounds to his Sight and Knowledge of Things, and though
               he walks in the midst of so many thousand Dangers, the Sight
               of which, if discover'd to him, would distract his Mind, and sink his Spirits; he is
               kept serene, and calm, by having the Events of Things hid from his Eyes, and knowing
               nothing the Dangers which surround him.</p>
            <p>After these Thoughts had for some Time entertain'd me, I
               came to reflect seriously upon the real Danger I had been in, for so many Years, in
               this very Island; and how I had walk'd about in the greatest Security, and with all
               possible Tranquillity; <pb n="233" facs="tcp:0653600100:239"/> even when perhaps nothing but a Brow of a Hill, a great Tree, or the casual
               Approach of Night, had been between me and the worst kind of Destruction,
                  <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> That of falling into the Hands of Cannibals, and Savages, who would
               have seiz'd on me with the same View, as I did of a Goat, or a Turtle; and have
               thought it no more a Crime to kill and devour me, than I did of a Pidgeon, or a <ref target="curlieu_" corresp="curlieu">Curlieu</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="curlieu" target="curlieu_" type="gloss">A
                  bird with a long, curved bill.</note>: I would unjustly slander my self, if I
               should say I was not sincerely thankful to my great Preserver, to whose singular
               Protection I acknowledg'd, with great Humility, that all
               these unknown Deliverances were due; and without which, I must inevitably have fallen
               into their merciless Hands.</p>
            <p>When these Thoughts were over, my Head was for some time taken up in considering the
               Nature of these wretched Creatures; I mean, the Savages; and how it came to pass in
               the World, that the wise Governour of all Things should give up any of his Creatures
               to such Inhumanity; nay, to something so much below, even
               Brutality it self, as to devour its own kind; but as this ended in some (at that Time
               fruitless) Speculations, it occurr'd to me to enquire, what Part of the World these
               Wretches liv'd in; how far off the Coast was from whence they came; what they
               ventur'd over so far from home for; what kind of Boats they had; and why I might not
               order my self, and my Business so, that I might be as able
               to go over thither, as they were to come to me.</p>
            <p>I never so much as troubl'd my self, to consider what I should do with my self, when
               I came thither; what would become of me, if I fell into the
               Hands of the Savages; or how I should escape from them, if they attempted me; no, nor
               so much as how it was possible for me to reach the Coast, and <pb n="234"/> not be attempted by some or other of them, without any Possibility of delivering my self; and if I should
               not fall into their Hands, what I should do for Provision, or whither I should bend
               my Course; none of these Thoughts, I say, so much as came in my way; but my Mind was
               wholly bent upon the Notion of my passing over in my Boat, to the Main Land: I look'd
               back upon my present Condition, as the most miserable that
               could possibly be, that I was not able to throw my self into any thing but Death,
               that could be call'd worse; that if I reached the Shore of the Main, I might perhaps
               meet with Relief, or I might coast along, as I did on the Shore of <hi rend="italic">Africk,</hi>
               till I came to some inhabited Country, and where I might
               find some Relief; and after all perhaps, I might fall in
               with some Christian Ship, that might take me in; and if the worse came to the worst,
               I could but die, which would put an end to all these Miseries at once. Pray note, all
               this was the fruit of a disturb'd Mind, an impatient Temper,
               made as it were desperate by the long Continuance of my Troubles, and the
               Disappointments I had met in the Wreck, I had been on board of; and where I had been
               so near the obtaining what I so earnestly long'd for, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> Some-body to
               speak to, and to learn some Knowledge from of the Place where I was, and of the
               probable Means of my Deliverance; I say, I was agitated wholly by these Thoughts: All
               my Calm of Mind in my Resignation to Providence, and waiting
               the Issue of the Dispositions of Heaven, seem'd to be suspended; and I had, as it
               were, no Power to turn my Thoughts to any thing, but to the Project of a Voyage to
               the Main, which came upon me with such Force, and such an Impetuosity of Desire, that it was not to be resisted.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="235"/>When this had agitated my Thoughts for two
               Hours, or more, with such Violence, that it set my very Blood into a Ferment, and my
               Pulse beat as high as if I had been in a Feaver, meerly with the extraordinary
               Fervour of my Mind about it; Nature, as if I had been fatigued and exhausted with the
               very Thought of it, threw me into a sound Sleep; one would have thought, I should
               have dream'd of it: But I did not, nor of any Thing relating to it; but I dream'd,
               that as I was going out in the Morning as usual from my Castle, I saw upon the Shore,
               two <hi rend="italic">Canoes,</hi> and eleven Savages coming to Land, and
               that they brought with them another Savage, who they were going to kill, in Order to
               eat him; when on a sudden, the Savage that they were going
               to kill, jumpt away, and ran for his Life; and I thought in my Sleep, that he came
               running into my little thick Grove, before my Fortification, to hide himself; and
               that I seeing him alone, and not perceiving that the other
               sought him that Way, show'd my self to him, and smiling upon him, encourag'd him;
               that he kneel'd down to me, seeming to pray me to assist him; upon which I shew'd my
               Ladder, made him go up, and carry'd him into my Cave, and he became my Servant; and that as soon as I had gotten this Man, I said to my self, now I may certainly venture to the main Land; for this Fellow will serve
               me as a Pilot, and will tell me what to do, and whether to go for Provisions; and
                  whether not to go for fear of being devoured, what Places to venture into, and what to escape: I wak'd with this
               Thought, and was under such inexpressible Impressions of
               Joy, at the Prospect of my Escape in my Dream, that the Disappointments which I felt
               upon coming to my self, and finding it was no more than a Dream, were equally
               extravagant the <pb n="236"/> other Way, and threw me into
               a very great Dejection of Spirit.</p>
            <p>Upon this however, I made this Conclusion, that my only Way to go about an Attempt
               for an Escape, was, if possible, to get a Savage into my Possession; and if possible,
               it should be one of their Prisoners, who they had condemn'd to be eaten, and should
               bring thither to kill; but these Thoughts still were attended with this Difficulty,
               that it was impossible to effect this, without attacking a
               whole Caravan of them, and killing them all; and this was not only a very desperate
                  Attempt, and might miscarry; but on the other Hand, I had
               greaty scrupled the Lawfulness of it to me; and my Heart trembled at the thoughts of
               shedding so much Blood, tho' it was for my Deliverance. I
               need not repeat the Arguments which occurr'd to me against this, they being the same
               mention'd before; but tho' I had other Reasons to offer now (<hi rend="italic">viz.</hi>) that
               those Men were Enemies to my Life, and would devour me, if they could; that it was
               Self-preservation in the highest Degree, to deliver my self from this Death of a
               Life, and was acting in my own Defence, as much as if they were actually assaulting
               me, and the like. I say, tho' these Things argued for it, yet the Thoughts of
               shedding Humane Blood for my Deliverance, were very Terrible to me, and such as I
               could by no Means reconcile my self to, a great while.</p>
            <p>However at last, after many secret Disputes with my self, and after great
               Perplexities about it, for all these Arguments one Way and another struggl'd in my
               Head a long Time, the eager prevailing Desire of Deliverance at length master'd all
               the rest; and I resolv'd, if possible, to get one of those Savages into my Hands,
               cost what it <pb n="237"/> would. My next Thing then was to
               contrive how to do it, and this indeed was very difficult to resolve on: But as I could pitch upon no probable Means for
               it, so I resolv'd to put my self upon the Watch, to see them when they came on Shore,
               and leave the rest to the Event, taking such Measures as the Opportunity should
               present, let be what would be.</p>
            <p>With these Resolutions in my Thoughts, I set my self upon the Scout, as often as
               possible, and indeed so often till I was heartily tir'd of
               it, for it was above a Year and Half that I waited, and for great part of that Time
               went out to the <hi rend="italic">West</hi> End, and to the <hi rend="italic">South West</hi> Corner of the
               Island, almost every Day, to see for Canoes, but none appear'd. This was very
               discouraging, and began to trouble me much, tho' I cannot
               say that it did in this Case, as it had done some time before that, (<hi rend="italic">viz.</hi>)
               wear off the Edge of my Desire to the Thing. But the longer it seem'd to be delay'd,
               the more eager I was for it; in a Word, I was not at first so careful to shun the sight of these Savages, and avoid being seen
               by them, as I was now eager to be upon them.</p>
            <p>Besides, I fancied my self able to manage One, nay, Two or Three Savages, if I had
               them so as to make them entirely Slaves to me, to do whatever I should direct them,
               and to prevent their being able at any time to do me any
               Hurt. It was a great while, that I pleas'd my self with this Affair, but nothing
               still presented; all my Fancies and Schemes came to nothing, for no Savages came near
               me for a great while.</p>
            <p>About a Year and half after I had entertain'd these Notions, and by long musing, had
               as it were resolved them all into nothing, for want of an Occasion to put them in Execution, I was surpriz'd <pb n="238"/> one Morning early, with seeing no less than five
                  <hi rend="italic">Canoes</hi> all on Shore together on my side the Island; and the People who
               belong'd to them all landed, and out of my sight: The Number of them broke all my
               Measures, for seeing so many, and knowing that they always came four or six, or
               sometimes more in a Boat, I could not tell what to think of it, or how to take my
               Measures, to attack Twenty or Thirty Men single handed; so I
               lay still in my Castle, perplex'd and discomforted: However I put my self into all
               the same Postures for an Attack that I had formerly
               provided, and was just ready for Action, if any Thing had presented; having waited a good while, listening to hear if they made any
               Noise; at length being very impatient, I set my Guns at the Foot of my Ladder, and
               clamber'd up to the Top of the Hill, by my two Stages as usual; standing so however
               that my Head did not appear above the Hill, so that they could not perceive me by any
               Means; here I observ'd by the help of my Perspective Glass, that they were no less
               than Thirty in Number, that they had a Fire kindled, that they had had Meat dress'd.
               How they had cook'd it, that I knew not, or what it was; but they were all Dancing in
               I know not how many barbarous Gestures and Figures, their own Way, round the
               Fire.</p>
            <p>While I was thus looking on them, I perceived by my Perspective, two miserable
               Wretches dragg'd from the Boats, where it seems they were laid by, and were now
               brought out for the Slaughter. I perceived one of them immediately fell, being
               knock'd down, I suppose with a Club or Wooden Sword, for that was their way, and two
               or three others were at work immediately cutting him open for their Cookery, while
               the other Victim was left standing by himself, till they should be ready for <pb n="239"/> him. In that very Moment this poor Wretch
                  seeing himself a little at Liberty, Nature inspir'd him
               with Hopes of Life, and he started away from them, and ran with incredible Swiftness
               along the Sands directly towards me, I mean towards that part of the Coast, where my
               Habitation was.</p>
            <p>I was dreadfully frighted, (that I must acknowledge) when I
               perceived him to run my Way; and especially, when as I thought I saw him pursued by
               the whole Body, and now I expected that part of my Dream was coming to pass, and that
               he would certainly take shelter in my Grove; but I could not depend by any means upon
               my Dream for the rest of it, (<hi rend="italic">viz.</hi>) that the other Savages would not pursue
               him thither, and find him there. However I kept my Station, and my Spirits began to
               recover, when I found that there was not above three Men that follow'd him, and still
               more was I encourag'd, when I found that he outstrip'd them exceedingly in running,
               and gain'd Ground of them, so that if he could but hold it for half an Hour, I saw
               easily he would fairly get away from them all.</p>
            <p>There was between them and my Castle, the Creek which I mention'd often at the first
               part of my Story, when I landed my Cargoes out of the Ship; and this I saw plainly,
               he must necessarily swim over, or the poor Wretch would be taken there: But when the
               Savage escaping came thither, he made nothing of it, tho'
               the Tide was then up, but plunging in, swam thro' in about Thirty Strokes or
               thereabouts, landed and ran on with exceeding Strength and Swiftness; when the Three
               Persons came to the Creek, I found that Two of them could Swim, but the Third cou'd
               not, and that standing on the other Side, he look'd at the other, but went no
               further; and soon after went <pb n="240"/> softly back
               again, which as it happen'd, was very well for him in the
               main.</p>
            <p>I observ'd, that the two who swam, were yet more than twice as long swimming over the
               Creek, as the Fellow was, that fled from them: It came now very warmly upon my
               Thoughts, and indeed irresistibly, that now was my Time to get me a Servant, and
               perhaps a Companion, or Assistant; and that I was call'd plainly by Providence to
               save this poor Creature's Life; I immediately run down the Ladders with all possible
               Expedition, fetches my two Guns, for they were both but at the Foot of the Ladders,
               as I observ'd above; and getting up again, with the same haste, to the Top of the
               Hill, I cross'd toward the Sea; and having a very short Cut, and all down Hill, <ref target="clap_" corresp="clap">clapp'd</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="clap" target="clap_" type="gloss">Placed</note> my self in the way,
               between the Pursuers, and the Pursu'd; hallowing aloud to him that fled, who looking
               back, was at first perhaps as much frighted at me, as at them; but I beckon'd with my
               Hand to him, to come back; and in the mean time, I slowly advanc'd towards the two that follow'd; then rushing at once upon the foremost, I
               knock'd him down with the <ref target="stock_" corresp="stock">Stock</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="stock" target="stock_" type="gloss">The
                  butt of a gun</note> of my Piece; I was loath to fire, because I would not have
               the rest hear; though at that distance, it would not have been easily heard, and
               being out of Sight of the Smoke too, they wou'd not have easily known what to make of
               it: Having knock'd this Fellow down, the other who pursu'd with him stopp'd, as if he
               had been frighted; and I advanc'd a-pace towards him; but as
               I came nearer, I perceiv'd presently, he had a Bow and Arrow, and was fitting it to
               shoot at me; so I was then necessitated to shoot at him first, which I did, and
               kill'd him at the first Shoot; the poor Savage who fled, but had stopp'd; though he
               saw both his Enemies fallen, and kill'd, as he thought; yet <pb n="241"/> was so frighted with the Fire, and Noise of my Piece;
               that he stood Stock still, and neither came forward or went backward, tho' he seem'd
               rather enclin'd to fly still, than to come on; I hollow'd again to him, and made
               Signs to come forward, which he easily understood, and came a little way, then
               stopp'd again, and then a little further, and stopp'd again, and I cou'd then
               perceive that he stood trembling, as if he had been taken Prisoner, and had just been
               to be kill'd, as his two Enemies were; I beckon'd him again to come to me, and gave
               him all the Signs of Encouragement that I could think of, and he came nearer and
               nearer, kneeling down every Ten or Twelve steps in token of acknowledgement for my
               saving his Life: I smil'd at him, and look'd pleasantly, and beckon'd to him to come
               still nearer; at length he came close to me, and then he kneel'd down again, kiss'd
               the Ground, and laid his Head upon the Ground, and taking me
               by the Foot, set my Foot upon his Head; this it seems was in token of swearing to be
               my Slave for ever; I took him up, and made much of him, and encourag'd him all I
               could. But there was more work to do yet, for I perceived the Savage who I knock'd down, was not kill'd, but stunn'd with
               the blow, and began to come to himself; so I pointed to him,
               and showing him the Savage, that he was not dead; upon this
               he spoke some Words to me, and though I could not understand
               them, yet I thought they were pleasant to hear, for they were the first sound of a
               Man's Voice, that I had heard, <hi rend="italic">my own excepted,</hi> for above Twenty Five Years.
               But there was no time for such Reflections now, the Savage
               who was knock'd down recover'd himself so far, as to sit up upon the Ground, and I
               perceived that my Savage began to be afraid; but when I saw that, I presented my other <pb n="242"/> Piece at the
               Man, as if I would shoot him, upon this my Savage, <hi rend="italic">for so I call him now,</hi>
               made a Motion to me to lend him my Sword, which hung naked in a Belt by my side; so I
               did, he no sooner had it, but he runs to his Enemy, and at
               one blow cut off his Head as cleaverly, no Executioner in <hi rend="italic">Germany,</hi> could
               have done it sooner or better; which I thought very strange, for one who I had Reason
               to believe never saw a Sword in his Life before, except
               their own Wooden Swords; however it seems, as I learn'd afterwards, they make their
               Wooden Swords so sharp, so heavy, and the Wood is so hard, that they will cut off
               Heads even with them, ay and Arms, and that at one blow too; when he had done this,
               he comes laughing to me in Sign of Triumph, and brought me the Sword again, and with
               abundance of Gestures which I did not understand, laid it down with the Head of the
               Savage, that he had kill'd just before me.</p>
            <p>But that which astonish'd him most, was to know how I had kill'd the other Indian so
               far off, so pointing to him, he made Signs to me to let him go to him, so I bad him
               go, as well as I could, when he came to him, he stood like one amaz'd, looking at
               him, turn'd him first on one side, then on t'other, look'd at the Wound the Bullet
               had made, which it seems was just in his Breast, where it had made a Hole, and no
               great Quantity of Blood had follow'd, but he had bled inwardly, for he was quite
               dead; He took up his Bow, and Arrows, and came back, so I
               turn'd to go away, and beckon'd to him to follow me, making Signs to him, that more
               might come after them.</p>
            <p>Upon this he sign'd to me, that he should bury them with Sand, that they might not be
               seen by the rest if they follow'd; and so I made Signs again to him to do so; he fell
               to Work, and in an instant he <pb n="243"/> had scrap'd a
               Hole in the Sand, with his Hands, big enough to bury the first in, and then dragg'd
               him into it, and cover'd him, and did so also by the other; I believe he had bury'd
               them both in a Quarter of an Hour; then calling him away, I carry'd him not to my Castle, but quite away to my Cave, on the
               farther Part of the Island; so I did not let my Dream come to pass in that Part,
                  <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> That he came into my Grove for shelter.</p>
            <p>Here I gave him Bread, and a Bunch of Raisins to eat, and a Draught of Water, which I
               found he was indeed in great Distress for, by his Running; and having refresh'd him,
               I made Signs for him to go lie down and sleep; pointing to a Place where I had laid a
               great Parcel of Rice Straw, and a Blanket upon it, which I used to sleep upon my self
               sometimes; so the poor Creature laid down, and went to sleep.</p>
            <p>He was a comely handsome Fellow, perfectly well made; with straight strong Limbs, not
               too large; tall and well shap'd, and as I reckon, about twenty six Years of Age. He
               had a very good Countenance, not a fierce and surly Aspect; but seem'd to have
               something very manly in his Face, and yet he had all the Sweetness and Softness of an
                  <hi rend="italic">European</hi> in his Countenance too, especially when he smil'd. His Hair was
               long and black, not curl'd like Wool; his Forehead very high, and large, and a great
               Vivacity and sparkling Sharpness in his Eyes. The Colour of his Skin was not quite
               black, but very tawny; and yet not of an ugly yellow nauseous tawny, as the
                  <hi rend="italic">Brasilians,</hi> and <hi rend="italic">Virginians,</hi> and other Natives of <hi rend="italic">America</hi> are; but of a bright kind of a dun olive Colour, that had in it something very agreeable; tho' not very
               easy to describe. His Face was round, and plump; his Nose small, not flat like the
                  Negroes, a very good Mouth, thin Lips, and his <pb n="244"/> fine Teeth well set, and white as Ivory. After
               he had slumber'd, rather than slept, about half an Hour, he wak'd again, and comes
               out of the Cave to me; for I had been milking my Goats, which I had in the Enclosure
               just by: When he espy'd me, he came running to me, laying himself down again upon the
               Ground, with all the possible Signs of an humble thankful Disposition, making a many
               antick Gestures to show it: At last he lays his Head flat upon the Ground, close to
               my Foot, and sets my other Foot upon his Head, as he had done before; and after this,
               made all the Signs to me of Subjection, Servitude, and Submission imaginable, to let
               me know, how he would serve me as long as he liv'd; I understood him in many Things,
               and let him know, I was very well pleas'd with him; in a little Time I began to speak
               to him, and teach him to speak to me; and first, I made him know his Name should be
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> which was the Day I sav'd his Life; I call'd him so for the
               Memory of the Time; I likewise taught him to say <hi rend="italic">Master,</hi> and then let him
               know, that was to be my Name; I likewise taught him to say, YES, and NO, and to know
               the Meaning of them; I gave him some Milk, in an earthen Pot, and let him see me
               Drink it before him, and sop my Bread in it; and I gave him a Cake of Bread, to do
               the like, which he quickly comply'd with, and made Signs that it was very good for
               him.</p>
            <p>I kept there with him all that Night; but as soon as it was Day, I beckon'd to him to
               come with me, and let him know, I would give him some Cloaths, at which he seem'd
               very glad, for he was stark naked: As we went by the Place where he had bury'd the
               two Men, he pointed exactly to the Place, and shew'd me the Marks that he had made to
               find them again, making Signs to me, <pb n="245"/> that we
               should dig them up again, and eat them; at this I appear'd very angry, express'd my
                  Abhorrence of it, made as if I would vomit at the
               Thoughts of it, and beckon'd with my Hand to him to come away, which he did
               immediately, with great Submission. I then led him up to the Top of the Hill, to see
               if his Enemies were gone; and pulling out my Glass, I look'd, and saw plainly the Place where they had been, but no appearance of them, or of their <hi rend="italic">Canoes</hi>; so that it was
               plain they were gone, and had left their two Comrades behind them, without any search
               after them.</p>
            <p>But I was not content with this Discovery; but having now more Courage, and
               consequently more Curiosity, I takes my Man <ref target="friday_" corresp="friday">Friday</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="friday" target="friday_" type="gloss">The idiom "Man Friday" or "Girl Friday" still refers
                  to an especially faithful servant or personal assistant. It came into use with the
                  release of the film "His Girl Friday" (1940), whose title alludes to Defoe's
                  novel.</note> with me, giving him the Sword in his Hand, with the Bow and Arrows
               at his Back, which I found he could use very dextrously, making him carry one Gun for
               me, and I two for my self, and away we march'd to the Place, where these Creatures
               had been; for I had a Mind now to get some fuller Intelligence of them: When I came
               to the Place, my very Blood ran chill in my Veins, and my Heart sunk within me, at
               the Horror of the Spectacle: Indeed it was a dreadful Sight, at least it was so to
               me; though <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> made nothing of it: The Place was cover'd with humane
               Bones, the Ground dy'd with their Blood, great Pieces of Flesh left here and there,
               half eaten, mangl'd and scorch'd; and in short, all the Tokens of the triumphant
               Feast they had been making there, after a Victory over their Enemies: I saw three
               Skulls, five Hands, and the Bones of three or four Legs and Feet, and abundance of
               other Parts of the Bodies; and <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> by his Signs, made me understand,
               that they brought over four Prisoners to feast upon; that three of them were eaten
               up, <pb n="246"/> and that he, pointing to himself, was the
               fourth: That there had been a great Battle between them, and their next King, whose
               Subjects it seems he had been one of; and that they had taken a great Number of Prisoners, all which were carry'd to several Places
               by those that had taken them in the Fight, in order to feast upon them, as was done
               here by these Wretches upon those they brought hither.</p>
            <p>I caus'd <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> to gather all the Skulls, Bones, Flesh, and whatever
               remain'd, and lay them togethere on a Heap, and make a great
               Fire upon it, and burn them all to Ashes: I found <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> had still a
               hankering Stomach after some of the Flesh, and was still a Cannibal in his Nature;
               but I <ref target="demonstrate_" corresp="demonstrate">discover'd</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="demonstrate" target="demonstrate_" type="gloss">Demonstrated</note> so much Abhorrence at the
               very Thoughts of it, and at the least Appearance of it, that he durst not <ref target="discover_" corresp="discover">discover</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="discover" target="discover_" type="gloss">Reveal</note> it; for I had by some Means let him know, that I would kill him if
               he offer'd it.</p>
            <p>When we had done this, we came back to our Castle, and there I fell to work for my
               Man <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi>; and first of all, I gave him a pair of Linnen Drawers, which I had out of the poor Gunner's Chest I mention'd,
               and which I found in the Wreck; and which with a little Alteration fitted him very
               well; then I made him a Jerkin of Goat's-skin, as well as my Skill would allow; and I
               was now grown a tollerable good Taylor; and I gave him a Cap, which I had made of a
               Hare-skin, very convenient, and fashionable enough; and thus he was cloath'd for the
               present, tollerably well; and was mighty well pleas'd to see himself almost as well
               cloath'd as his Master: It is true, he went awkardly in these Things at first;
               wearing the Drawers was very awkard to him, and the Sleeves of the Wast-coat gall'd
               his Shoulders, and the inside of his Arms; but a little easing them where he
               complain'd <pb n="247"/> they hurt him, and using himself
               to them, at length he took to them very well.</p>
            <p>The next Day after I came home to my Hutch with him, I began to consider where I
               should lodge him, and that I might do well for him, and yet be perfectly easy my
               self; I made a little Tent for him in the vacant Place between my two Fortifications,
               in the inside of the last, and in the outside of the first; and as there was a Door,
               or Entrance there into my Cave, I made a formal fram'd Door Case, and a Door to it of
               Boards, and set it up in the Passage, a little within the Entrance; and causing the
               Door to open on the inside, I barr'd it up in the Night, taking in my Ladders too; so
               that <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> could no way come at me in the inside of my innermost Wall,
               without making so much Noise in getting over, that it must needs waken me; for my
               first Wall had now a compleat Roof over it of long Poles, covering all my Tent, and
               leaning up to the side of the Hill, which was again laid cross with smaller Sticks
                  instead of <ref target="laths_" corresp="laths">Laths</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="laths" target="laths_" type="gloss">Thin, narrow strips of wood used to form a groundwork upon which to
                  fasten the slates of a roof</note>, and then thatch'd over a great Thickness, with
               the Rice Straw, which was strong like Reeds; and at the Hole or Place which was left
               to go in or out by the Ladder, I had plac'd a kind of Trap-door, which if it had been
                  attempted on the outside, would not have open'd at all,
               but would have fallen down, and made a great Noise; and as to Weapons, I took them
               all in to my Side every Night.</p>
            <p>But I needed none of all this Precaution; for never Man had
               a more faithful, loving, sincere Servant, than
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> was to me; without Passions, Sullenness or Designs, perfectly
               oblig'd and engag'd; his very Affections were ty'd to me,
               like those of a Child to a Father; and I dare say, he would have sacrific'd his Life
               for the saving mine, upon any occasion whatsoever; the many Testimonies <pb n="248"/> he gave me of
               this, put it out of doubt, and soon convinc'd me, that I needed to use no Precautions, as to my Safety on his Account.</p>
            <p>This frequently gave me occasion to observe, and that with wonder, that however it
               had pleas'd God, in his Providence, and in the Government of the Works of his Hands,
               to take from so great a Part of the World of his Creatures, the best uses to which
               their Faculties, and the Powers of their Souls are adapted; yet that he has bestow'd
               upon them the same Powers, the same Reason, the same Affections, the same Sentiments
               of Kindness and Obligation, the same Passions and Resentments of Wrongs; the same
               Sense of Gratitude, Sincerity, Fidelity, and all the Capacities of doing Good, and
               receiving Good, that he has given to us; and that when he pleases to offer to them
               Occasions of exerting these, they are as ready, nay, more ready to apply them to the
               right Uses for which they were bestow'd, than we are; and this made me very
               melancholly sometimes, in reflecting as the several Occasions presented, how mean a
               Use we make of all these, even though we have these Powers enlighten'd by the great Lamp of Instruction, the Spirit of
               God, and by the Knowledge of his Word, added to our Understanding; and why it has
               pleas'd God to hide the like saving Knowledge from so many
               Millions of Souls, who if I might judge by this poor Savage, would make a much better
               use of it than we did.</p>
            <p>From hence, I sometimes was led too far to invade the Soveraignty of
                  <hi rend="italic">Providence,</hi> and as it were arraign the Justice of so arbitrary a
               Disposition of Things, that should hide that Light from some, and reveal it to
               others, and yet expect a like Duty from both: But I shut it up, and check'd my
               Thoughts with this Conclusion, (1st.) That we <pb n="249"/>
               did not know by what Light and Law these should be Condemn'd; but that as God was
               necessarily, and by the Nature of his Being, infinitely Holy and Just, so it could
               not be; but that if these Creatures were all sentenc'd to Absence from himself, it was on account of sinning against that Light which,
               as the Scripture says, was a Law to themselves, and by such
               Rules as their Consciences would acknowledge to be just, tho' the Foundation was not
               discover'd to us: And (2d.) that still as we are all the Clay in the Hand of the
               Potter, no Vessel could say to him, Why hast thou form'd me thus?</p>
            <p>But to return to my New Companion; I was greatly delighted with him, and made it my
                  Business to teach him every Thing, that was proper to
               make him useful, handy, and helpful; but especially to make
               him speak, and understand me when I spake, and he was the aptest Schollar that ever
               was, and particularly was so merry, so constantly diligent, and so pleased, when he
               cou'd but understand me, or make me understand him, that it
               was very pleasant to me to talk to him; and now my Life began to be so easy, that I
               began to say to my self, that could I but have been safe from more Savages, I cared
               not, if I was never to remove from the place while I lived.</p>
            
            <head> <ref target="Audio17_" corresp="Audio17">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio17" target="Audio17_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_17_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            <p>After I had been two or three Days return'd to my Castle, I thought that, in order to
               bring <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> off from his horrid way of feeding, and from the Relish of a
               Cannibal's Stomach, I ought to let him taste other Flesh; so I took him out with me
               one Morning to the Woods: I went indeed intending to kill a Kid out of my own Flock,
               and bring him home and dress it. But as I was going, I saw a She Goat lying down in
               the Shade, and two young Kids sitting by her, I catch'd hold of <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> hold says I, stand still; and made Signs to him
                  <pb n="250"/> not to stir, immediately I presented my
               Piece, shot and kill'd one of the Kids. The poor Creature who had at a Distance
               indeed seen me kill the Savage his Enemy, but did not know, or could imagine how it
               was done, was sensibly surpriz'd, trembled, and shook, and
               look'd so amaz'd, that I thought he would have sunk down. He
               did not see the Kid I shot at, or perceive I had kill'd it, but ripp'd up his
               Wastcoat to feel if he was not wounded, and as I found, presently thought I was
               resolv'd to kill him; for he came and kneel'd down to me, and embraceing my Knees,
               said a great many Things I did not understand; but I could
               easily see that the meaning was to pray me not to kill him.</p>
            <p>I soon found a way to convince him that I would do him no harm, and taking him up by
               the Hand laugh'd at him, and pointed to the Kid which I had kill'd, beckoned to him
               to run and fetch it, which he did; and while he was wondering and looking to see how
               the Creature was kill'd, I loaded my Gun again, and by and
               by I saw a great Fowl like a Hawk sit upon a Tree within Shot; so to let
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> understand a little what I would do, I call'd him to me again,
               pointed at the Fowl which was indeed a Parrot, tho' I thought it had been a Hawk, I
               say pointing to the Parrot, and to my Gun, and to the Ground under the Parrot, to let
               him see I would make it fall, I made him understand that I would shoot and kill that
               Bird; according I fir'd and bad him look, and immediately he saw the Parrot fall, he
               stood like one frighted again, notwithstanding all I had
               said to him; and I found he was the more amaz'd, because he did not see me put any
               Thing into the Gun; but thought that there must be some wonderful Fund of Death and
               Destruction in that Thing, able to kill Man, Beast, <pb n="251"/> Bird, or any Thing near, or far off; and the Astonishment this created in him was such, as could not wear off
               for a long Time; and I believe, if I would have let him, he would have worshipp'd me
               and my Gun: As for the Gun it self, he would not so much as touch it for several Days
               after; but would speak to it, and talk to it, as if it had answer'd him, when he was by himself; which, as I afterwards learn'd of him, was to
               desire it not to kill him.</p>
            <p>Well, after his Astonishment was a little over at this, I pointed to him to run and
               fetch the Bird I had shot, which he did, but stay'd some Time; for the Parrot not
               being quite dead, was flutter'd away a good way off from the Place where she fell;
               however, he found her, took her up, and brought her to me; and as I had perceiv'd his
               Ignorance about the Gun before, I took this Advantage to
               charge the Gun again, and not let him see me do it, that I might be ready for any
               other Mark that might present; but nothing more offer'd at that Time; so I brought
               home the Kid, and the same Evening I took the Skin off, and cut it out as well as I
               could; and having a Pot for that purpose, I boil'd, or stew'd some of the Flesh, and
               made some very good Broth; and after I had begun to eat some, I gave some to my Man,
               who seem'd very glad of it, and lik'd it very well; but that
               which was strangest to him, was, to see me eat Salt with it; he made a Sign to me,
               that the Salt was not good to eat, and putting a little into his own Mouth, he seem'd
               to nauseate it, and would spit and sputter at it, washing his Mouth with fresh Water
               after it; on the other hand, I took some Meat in my Mouth without Salt, and I
               pretended to spit and sputter for want of Salt, as fast as he had done at the Salt;
               but it would not do, he <pb n="252"/> would never care for
               Salt with his Meat, or in his Broth; at least not a great while, and then but a very
               little.</p>
            <p>Having thus fed him with boil'd Meat and Broth, I was resolv'd to feast him the next
               Day with roasting a Piece of the Kid; this I did by hanging it before the Fire, in a
               String, as I had seen many People do in <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> setting two Poles up, one
               on each side the Fire, and one cross on the Top, and tying the String to the
               Cross-stick, letting the Meat turn continually: This <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> admir'd very much; but when he came to taste the Flesh, he took so
               many ways to tell me how well he lik'd it, that I could not but understand him; and
               at last he told me he would never eat Man's Flesh any more, which I was very glad to
               hear.</p>
            <p>The next Day I set him to work to beating some Corn out, and sifting it in the manner
               I us'd to do, as I observ'd before, and he soon understood how to do it as well as I,
               especially after he had seen what the Meaning of it was, and that it was to make
               Bread of; for after that I let him see me make my Bread, and bake it too, and in a
               little Time <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> was able to do all the Work for me, as well as I could do
               it my self.</p>
            <p>I begun now to consider, that having two Mouths to feed, instead of one, I must
               provide more Ground for my Harvest, and plant a larger Quantity of Corn, than I us'd
               to do; so I mark'd out a larger Piece of Land, and began the Fence in the same Manner
               as before, in which <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> not only work'd very willingly, and very hard;
               but did it very chearfully, and I told him what it was for; that it was for Corn to
               make more Bread, because he was now with me, and that I might have enough for him,
               and my self too: He appear'd very sensible of that Part, and let me know, that he
               thought I had <pb n="253"/> much more Labour upon me on his
               Account, than I had for my self; and that he would work the harder for me, if I would
               tell him what to do.</p>
            <p>This was the pleasantest Year of all the Life I led in this Place; <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi>
               began to talk pretty well, and understand the Names of almost every Thing I had
               occasion to call for, and of every Place I had to send him to, and talk'd 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, <hi rend="italic">about Speech</hi>;
               besides the Pleasure of talking to him, I had a singular Satisfaction in the Fellow himself; his simple unfeign'd Honesty,
               appear'd to me more and more every Day, and I began really to love the Creature; and
               on his Side, I believe he lov'd me more than it was possible for him ever to love any
               Thing before.</p>
            <p>I had a Mind once to try if he had any hankering Inclination to his own Country
               again, and having learn'd him <hi rend="italic">English</hi> so well that he could answer me almost
               any Questions, I ask'd him whether the Nation that he
               belong'd to never conquer'd in Battle, at which he smil'd; 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, <hi rend="italic">Friday?</hi>
            </p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> My Nation beat much, for all that.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Master,</hi> How beat; if your Nation beat them, how come you to be taken?</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> They more many than my Nation in the Place where me was; they take
               one, two, three, and me; my Nation over beat them in the yonder Place, where me no
               was; there my Nation take one, two, great Thousand.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Master,</hi> But why did not your Side recover you from the Hands of your Enemies
               then?</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="254"/>
               <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> They run one, two, three, and me, and make go in the <hi rend="italic">Canoe</hi>;
               my Nation have no <hi rend="italic">Canoe</hi> that time.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Master,</hi> Well, <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> and What does your Nation do with the Men they take, do they carry them away, and eat them, as these
               did?</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> Yes, my Nation eat Man's too, eat all up.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Master,</hi> Where do they carry them?</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> Go to other Place where they think.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Master,</hi> Do they come hither?</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> Yes, yes, they come hither; come other else Place.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Master,</hi> Have you been here with them?</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> Yes, I been here; [<hi rend="italic">points to the</hi> N. W. <hi rend="italic">Side of the
                  Island</hi>] which it seems was their Side.</p>
            <p>By this I understood, that my Man <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> had formerly been among the
               Savages, who us'd to come on Shore on the farther Part of the Island, on the same Man eating Occasions that he was now
               brought for; and sometime after, when I took the Courage to carry him to that Side,
                  being the same I formerly mention'd, he presently knew
               the Place, and told me, he was there once when they eat up twenty Men, two Women, and
               one Child; he could not tell Twenty in <hi rend="italic">English</hi>; but he numbred them by
               laying so many Stones on a Row, and pointing to me to tell them over.</p>
            <p>I have told this Passage, because it introduces what follows; that after I had had
               this Discourse with him, I ask'd him how far it was from our Island to the Shore, and whether the <hi rend="italic">Canoes</hi> were not often lost; he told
               me, there was no Danger, no <hi rend="italic">Canoes</hi> ever lost; but that after a little way
               out to the Sea, there was a Current, and Wind, always one way in the Morning, the
               other in the Afternoon.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="255"/>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
               occasion'd by the great Draft and Reflux of the mighty River <hi rend="italic">Oroonooko</hi>; in the Mouth, or the Gulph of which River, as I found afterwards, our Island lay; and this Land
               which I perceiv'd to the <hi rend="italic">W.</hi> and <hi rend="italic">N. W.</hi> was the great Island
                  <hi rend="italic">Trinidad,</hi> on the <hi rend="italic">North</hi> Point of the Mouth of the River: I ask'd
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> a thousand Questions about the Country, the Inhabitants, the Sea,
               the Coast, and what Nation were near; he told me all he knew with the greatest
               Openness imaginable; I ask'd him the Names of the several
               Nations of his Sort of People; but could get no other Name
               than <hi rend="italic">Caribs</hi>; from whence I easily understood, that
               these were the <hi rend="italic">Caribbees,</hi> which our Maps place on the Part of
                  <hi rend="italic">America,</hi> which reaches from the Mouth of the River <hi rend="italic">Oroonooko</hi> to
                  <hi rend="italic">Guiana,</hi> and onwards to <hi rend="italic">St. Martha:</hi> He told me that up a great
               way beyond the Moon, that was, beyond the Setting of the Moon, which must be
                  <hi rend="italic">W.</hi> from their Country, there dwelt white bearded Men, like me; and
               pointed to my great Whiskers, which I mention'd before; and that they had kill'd
                  <hi rend="italic">much Mans,</hi> that was his Word; by all which I understood, he meant the
                  <hi rend="italic">Spaniards,</hi> whose Cruelties in <hi rend="italic">America</hi> had been spread over the
               whole Countries, and was remember'd by all the Nations from Father to Son.</p>
            <p>I enquir'd 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 <hi rend="italic">in two Canoe</hi>; I could not
               understand what he meant, or make him describe to me what he meant by <hi rend="italic">two
                  Canoe,</hi> till at last with great Difficulty, I found he meant it must be in a
               large great Boat, as big as <hi rend="italic">two Canoes.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>
               <pb n="256"/>This Part of <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi>'s Discourse began
               to relish with me very well, and from this Time I entertain'd 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.</p>
            <p>During the long Time that <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> has now been with me, and that he began to
               speak to me, and understand me, I was not wanting to lay a Foundation of religious Knowledge in his Mind; particularly I ask'd him one Time who made him? The poor
               Creature did not understand me at all, but thought I had ask'd who was his Father;
               but I took it by another handle, and ask'd him who made the Sea, the Ground we walk'd
               on, and the Hills, and Woods; he told me it was one old <hi rend="italic">Benamuckee,</hi> that liv'd 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 ask'd him then, if this old Person had made all Things, why
               did not all Things worship him; he look'd very grave, and with a perfect Look of
               Innocence, said, <hi rend="italic">All Things do say O to him:</hi> I ask'd him if the People who
               die in his Country went away any where; he said, yes, they all went to <ref target="benamuckee_" corresp="benamuckee">Benamuckee</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="benamuckee" target="benamuckee_" type="gloss">There is no historic mythological source for this deity.</note>; then
               I ask'd him whether these they eat up went thither too, he said yes.</p>
            <p>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 liv'd up there, pointing up towards Heaven:
               That he governs the World by the same Power and Providence by which he had made it:
               That he was omnipotent, could do every Thing for us, give every Thing to us, take
               every Thing from us; and thus by Degrees I open'd his Eyes.
               He listned with great Attention, <pb n="257"/> and receiv'd with Pleasure the Notion of <hi rend="italic">Jesus
                  Christ</hi> 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 <hi rend="italic">Benamuckee,</hi> who liv'd 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 ask'd him if ever he went thither, to speak to him; he said no, they never
               went that were young Men; none went thither but the old Men, who he call'd their <ref target="oowocakee_" corresp="oowocakee">Oowocakee,</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="oowocakee" target="oowocakee_" type="gloss">There is no historical source for this.</note> that is, as I made him
               explain it to me, their Religious, or Clergy, and that they went to say <hi rend="italic">O,</hi>
               (so he called saying Prayers) and then came back, and told them what
                  <hi rend="italic">Benamuckee</hi> said: By this I observ'd, That there is <hi rend="italic">Priestcraft,</hi>
               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 <hi rend="italic">Roman,</hi> but perhaps among
               all Religions in the World, even among the most brutish and barbarous Savages.</p>
            <p>I endeavour'd to clear up this Fraud, to my Man <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> and told him, that
               the Pretence of their old Men going up the Mountains, to say <hi rend="italic">O</hi> to their God
                  <hi rend="italic">Benamuckee,</hi> was a Cheat, and their bringing Word from thence what he
               said, was much more so; that if they met with any Answer, or spake with any one
               there, it must be with an evil Spirit: And then I entred 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 Worship'd instead of God,
               and as God; and the many Stratagems <pb n="258"/> he made use of to delude Mankind to his Ruine; 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.</p>
            <p>I found it was not so easie 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 over-ruling 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 puzzl'd
               me once in such a manner, by a Question meerly 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 Nature 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 listen'd with great
               Seriousness to me all the while.</p>
            <p>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 ruine the Kingdom of Christ in the World; and the like.
               Well, says <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> but you say, God is so strong, so great, is he not much
               strong, much might as the Devil? Yes, yes, says I, <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> God is stronger
               than the Devil, God is above the Devil, and therefore we pray to God to tread him
               down under our Feet, <pb n="259"/> and enable us to resist
               his Temptations and quench his fiery Darts. <hi rend="italic">But,</hi> says he again, <hi rend="italic">if God
                  much strong, much might as the Devil, why God no kill the Devil, so make him no
                  more do wicked?</hi>
            </p>
            <p>I was strangely surpriz'd at his Question, and after all, tho' I was now an old Man,
               yet I was but a young Doctor, and ill enough quallified 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 ask'd 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 my self a little, and I said, <hi rend="italic">God
                  will at last punish him severely</hi>; he is <hi rend="italic">reserv'd for the Judgment, and is
                  to be cast into the Bottomless-Pit, to dwell with everlasting Fire.</hi> This did not satisfie <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> but he returns upon
               me, repeating my Words, RESERVE, AT LAST, <hi rend="italic">me no underderstand; but, Why not kill
                  the Devil now, not kill great ago?</hi> You may as well ask me, <hi rend="italic">said I,</hi>
               Why God does not kill you and I, when we do wicked Things here that offend him? We
               are preserv'd to repent and be pardon'd: He muses a while at this; <hi rend="italic">well,
                  well,</hi> says he, mighty affectionately, <hi rend="italic">that well; so you, I, Devil, all
                     wicked, all preserve, repent, God pardon all.</hi>
               Here I was run down again by him to the last Degree, and it was a Testimony to me,
               how the meer 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 from the Knowledge
               of <hi rend="italic">Jesus Christ,</hi> and of a Redemption purchas'd for
               us, of a Mediator of the new Covenant, and of an Intercessor, at the Foot-stool of
               God's Throne; I say, nothing but a Revelation from Heaven, can form these in <pb n="260"/> the Soul, and that therefore the Gospel of our
               Lord and Saviour <hi rend="italic">Jesus Christ</hi>; I mean, the Word of God, and the Spirit of
               God promis'd 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.</p>
            <p>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 pray'd 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 <hi rend="italic">Christ,</hi> reconciling him to himself, and would
               guide me to speak so to him from the Word of God, as his Conscience might be
               convinc'd, his Eyes open'd, and his Soul sav'd. When he came again to me, I entred
               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 preach'd from Heaven,
                  <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> of Repentance towards God, and Faith in our Blessed Lord
                  <hi rend="italic">Jesus.</hi> I then explain'd to him, as well as I could, why our Blessed
               Redeemer took not on him the Nature of Angels, but the Seed of <hi rend="italic">Abraham,</hi> 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 <hi rend="italic">Israel,</hi> and the like.</p>
            <p>I had, <hi rend="italic">God knows,</hi> 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 inform'd and instructed my self in many Things, that either I
               did not know, or had not fully consider'd <pb n="261"/>
               before; but which occurr'd naturally to my Mind, upon my searching into them, for the
               Information of this poor Savage; and I had more Affection in my Enquiry 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 set lighter upon me, my Habitation grew comfortable to me beyond
               Measure; and when I reflected that in this solitary Life which I had been confin'd
               to, I had not only been moved my self 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 <hi rend="italic">for ought I knew,</hi> 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, <hi rend="italic">to know whom is Life
                     eternal.</hi> I say, when I reflected upon all these
               Things, a secret Joy run through every Part of my Soul, and I frequently rejoyc'd
               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.</p>
            <p>In this thankful Frame I continu'd all the Remainder of my
               Time, and the Conversation which employ'd the Hours between <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> and I,
               was such, as made the three Years which we liv'd there together perfectly and
               compleatly happy, <hi rend="italic">if any such Thing as compleat Happiness can be form'd in a
                     sublunary State.</hi> 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 restor'd
               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 <hi rend="italic">England.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>
               <pb n="262"/>I always apply'd my self in Reading the
                  Scripture, to let him know, as well as I could, the
               Meaning of what I read; and he again, by his serious
               Enquiries, and Questionings, made me, <hi rend="italic">as I said before,</hi> a much better
               Scholar in the Scripture Knowledge, than I should ever have been by my own private
               meer Reading. Another thing I cannot refrain from observing
               here also from Experience, in this retir'd Part of my Life,
                  <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> How infinite and inexpressible a Blessing
               it is, that the Knowledge of God, and of the Doctrine of Salvation by <hi rend="italic">Christ Jesus,</hi> is so plainly laid down in the Word of God; so easy
               to be receiv'd 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 Instructer; I mean, humane; so the same plain
               Instruction sufficiently serv'd to the enlightning this
               Savage Creature, and bringing him to be such a Christian, as I have known few equal
               to him in my Life.</p>
            <p>As to all the Disputes, Wranglings, Strife and Contention, which has happen'd in the
               World about Religion, whether Niceties in Doctrines, or Schemes of Church Government,
               they were all perfectly useless to us; as for ought I can
               yet see, they have been to all the rest of the World: We had the <hi rend="italic">sure Guide</hi>
               to Heaven, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> The Word of God; and we had, <hi rend="italic">blessed be God,</hi>
               comfortable Views of the Spirit of God teaching and
               instructing us by his Word, <hi rend="italic">leading us into all Truth,</hi> and making us both
                  willing and obedient to the Instruction of his Word; and
               I cannot see the least Use that the greatest <pb n="263"/>
               Knowledge of the disputed Points in Religion which have made such Confusions in the
               World would have been to us, if we could have obtain'd it;
               but I must go on with the Historical Part of Things, and take every Part in its
               order.</p>
            <p>After <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> and I became more intimately acquainted, and that he could understand almost all I said to him, and speak
               fluently, though in broken <hi rend="italic">English</hi> 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 liv'd 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 <hi rend="italic">England</hi> we wear <ref target="hanger_" corresp="hanger">Hangers</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="hanger" target="hanger_" type="gloss">Swords</note> 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.</p>
            <p>I describ'd to him the Country of <hi rend="italic">Europe,</hi> and particularly <hi rend="italic">England,</hi>
               which I came from; how we liv'd, how we worshipp'd God, how we behav'd 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 shew'd him as near as I could, the
               Place where she lay; but she was all beaten in Pieces before, and gone.</p>
            <p>I shew'd him the Ruins of our Boat, which we lost when we escap'd, and which I could
               not stir with my whole Strength then; but was now fallen almost all to Pieces: Upon
               seeing this Boat, <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> stood musing a great while, and said nothing; I
               ask'd him what it was he study'd upon, at last says he, <hi rend="italic">me see such Boat like
                  come to Place at my Nation.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>I did not understand him a good while; but at last, when I had examin'd farther into
               it, I understood <pb n="264"/> by
               him, that a Boat, such as that had been, came on Shore upon the Country where he
               liv'd; that is, as he explain'd it, was driven thither by Stress of Weather: I
               presently imagin'd, that some <hi rend="italic">European</hi> Ship must have been cast away upon
               their Coast, and the Boat might get loose, and drive a Shore; 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 enquir'd after a Description of the
               Boat.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> describ'd the Boat to me well enough; but brought me better to
               understand him, when he added with some Warmth, <hi rend="italic">we save
                  the white Mans from drown:</hi> Then I presently ask'd him, if there was any <hi rend="italic">white Mans,</hi> as he call'd them, in the Boat;
                  <hi rend="italic">yes,</hi> he said, <hi rend="italic">the Boat full white Mans:</hi> I ask'd him how many; he
               told upon his Fingers seventeen: I ask'd him then what become of them; he told me,
                  <hi rend="italic">they live, they dwell at my Nation.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>This put new Thoughts into my Head; for I presently imagin'd, that these might be the
               Men belonging to the Ship, that was cast away in Sight of <hi rend="italic">my Island,</hi> as I
               now call it; and who after the Ship was struck on the Rock, and they saw her inevitably lost, had sav'd themselves in their Boat, and were
               landed upon that wild Shore among the Savages.</p>
            <p>Upon this, I enquir'd of him more critically, What was become of them? He assur'd 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 ask'd him,
               How it came to pass they did not kill them and eat them? He said, <hi rend="italic">No, they make
                  Brother with them</hi>; that is, as I understood him, a Truce: And then he added,
                  <hi rend="italic">They no eat Mans but when make the War fight</hi>; that is to <pb n="265"/> say, they never eat any Men but such as come to fight
               with them, and are taken in Battle.</p>
            <p>It was after this some considerable Time, that being upon the Top of the Hill, at the
                  <hi rend="italic">East</hi> Side of the Island, from whence as I have said, I had in a clear Day
               discover'd the Main, or Continent of <hi rend="italic">America; Friday,</hi> the Weather being very
               serene, looks very earnestly towards the Main Land, 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
               ask'd him, What was the Matter? <hi rend="italic">O joy!</hi> Says he, <hi rend="italic">O glad! There see my
                  Country, there my Nation!</hi>
            </p>
            <p>I observ'd an extraordinary Sense of Pleasure appear'd in
               his Face, and his Eyes sparkled, and his Countenance discover'd 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
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> as I was before; and I made no doubt, but that if <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi>
               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 us'd to be
               with those of his Enemies, when they were taken in War.</p>
            <p>But I wrong'd the poor honest Creature very much, for which I was very sorry
               afterwards. However as my Jealousy encreased, 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 <pb n="266"/> as a religious Christian, and as a grateful
               Friend, as appeared afterwards to my full Satisfaction.</p>
            <p>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 every thing he said was so Honest, and so Innocent,
               that I could find nothing to nourish my Suspicion; and in spight of all my Uneasiness
               he made me at last entirely his own again, nor did he in the
               least perceive that I was Uneasie, and therefore I could not
               suspect him of Deceit.</p>
            <p>One Day walking up the same Hill, but the Weather being haizy at Sea, so that we
               could not see the Continent, I call'd to him, and said, <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> do not you wish your self in your own Country, your own Nation? Yes, he said, <hi rend="italic">he be much O glad to
                  be at his own Nation.</hi> What would you do there said I, would you turn Wild
               again, eat Mens Flesh again, and be a Savage as you were before. He lookt full of
               Concern, and shaking his Head said, <hi rend="italic">No no,</hi> Friday <hi rend="italic">tell them to live
                  Good,</hi> tell them <hi rend="italic">to pray God,</hi> tell them <hi rend="italic">to eat Corn-bread,
                  Cattle-flesh, Milk, no eat Man again</hi>: Why then said I to him, <hi rend="italic">They will
                  kill you.</hi> He look'd grave at that, and then said, <hi rend="italic">No, they no kill me,
                  they willing love learn</hi>: He meant by this, they would be willing to learn. He
               added, they learn'd much of the Bearded-Mans that come in the Boat. Then I ask'd him
               if he would go back to them? He smil'd at that, and told me he could not swim so far.
               I told him I would make a <hi rend="italic">Canoe</hi> for him. He told me, <hi rend="italic">he would go, if I
                  would go with him.</hi> I go! says I, why they will Eat me if I come there? No,
               no, says he, <hi rend="italic">me make they no Eat you; me make they much Love you:</hi> He meant
               he would tell them how I had kill'd his Enemies, and sav'd his Life, and so he <pb n="267"/> 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
               call'd them, who came on Shore there in Distress.</p>
            <p>From this time I confess I had a Mind to venture over, and see if I could possibly
               joyn with these Bearded-men, who I made no doubt were <hi rend="italic">Spaniards</hi> or
                  <hi rend="italic">Portuguese</hi>; 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 40 Miles off the Shore, and alone without Help. So after
               some Days I took <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> 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 carry'd him to
               my Frigate which lay on the other Side of the Island, and having clear'd it of Water, for I always kept it sunk in the Water; I brought it out,
               shewed it him, and we both went into it.</p>
            <p>I found he was a most dextrous 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, <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> shall we go to your Nation?
               He look'd 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
               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 dry'd it, that it was
               in a manner rotten. <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> told me such a Boat would do very well, and would
               carry <hi rend="italic">much enough Vittle, Drink, Bread,</hi> that was his Way of Talking.</p>
            <head> <ref target="Audio18_" corresp="Audio18">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio18" target="Audio18_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_18_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            <p>
               <pb n="268"/>Upon the whole, I was by this Time so fix'd
               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 answer'd not one Word,
               but look'd very grave and sad: I ask'd him what was the matter with him? He ask'd me
               again thus; <hi rend="italic">Why, you angry mad with</hi> Friday, <hi rend="italic">what me done?</hi> I ask'd
               him what he meant; I told him I was not angry with him at all. <hi rend="italic">No angry! No
                  angry!</hi> says he, repeating the Words several Times, <hi rend="italic">Why send</hi> Friday
                  <hi rend="italic">home away to my Nation?</hi> Why, (says I) <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> did you not say
               you wish'd you were there? <hi rend="italic">Yes, yes,</hi> says he, <hi rend="italic">wish be both there, no
                  wish</hi> Friday <hi rend="italic">there, no Master there.</hi> In a Word, he would not think of
               going there without me; <hi rend="italic">I go there!</hi> Friday, (says I) <hi rend="italic">what shall I do
                  there?</hi> He turn'd very quick upon me at this: <hi rend="italic">You do great deal much
                  good,</hi> says he, <hi rend="italic">you teach wild Mans be good sober tame Mans; you tell them
                  know God, pray God, and live new Life. Alas!</hi> Friday, (says I) <hi rend="italic">thou
                  knowest not what thou sayest, I am but an ignorant Man my self. Yes, yes,</hi>
               says he, <hi rend="italic">you teachee me Good, you teachee them Good. No, no,</hi> Friday, (says
               I) <hi rend="italic">you shall go without me, leave me here to live by my self, as I did
                  before.</hi> He look'd confus'd again at that Word, and running to one of the
               Hatchets which he used to wear, he takes it up hastily, comes and gives it me,
                  <hi rend="italic">What must I do with this?</hi> says I to him. <hi rend="italic">You take, kill</hi> Friday;
               (says he.) <hi rend="italic">What must I kill you for?</hi> said I again. He returns very quick,
                  <hi rend="italic">What you send</hi> Friday <hi rend="italic">away for? take, kill</hi> Friday, <hi rend="italic">no
                  send</hi> Friday <hi rend="italic">away.</hi> This he spoke so
               earnestly, that I saw Tears stand in his Eyes: In a Word, I so plainly discover'd 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.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="269"/>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 my self, 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 gather'd from the
               Discourse, (<hi rend="italic">viz.</hi>) That there were seventeen bearded Men there; and
               therefore, without any more Delay, I went to Work with
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> to find out a great Tree proper to fell, and make a large Periagua
               or Canoe to undertake the Voyage. There were Trees enough in the Island to have built
               a little Fleet, not of Periagua's and Canoes, but even of good large Vessels. But the
               main Thing I look'd 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.</p>
            <p>At last, <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi>
               <ref target="pitchupon_" corresp="pitchupon">pitch'd upon</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="pitchupon" target="pitchupon_" type="gloss">Chose</note> 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 <ref target="fustic_" corresp="fustic">Fustic,</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="fustic" target="fustic_" type="gloss">Maclura tinctoria, a medium to large
                  tree of the neotropics</note> or between that and the <hi rend="italic">Nicaragua</hi> Wood, for
               it was much of the same Colour and Smell. <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> was for burning the Hollow
               or Cavity of this Tree out to make it for a Boat. But I shew'd him how rather to cut
               it out with Tools, which, after I had shew'd 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 shew'd him how to handle, we cut and hew'd the out-side
               into the true Shape of a Boat; after this, however, it cost us near a Fortnight's
               Time to get <pb n="270"/> her along as it were Inch by Inch
               upon great Rowlers into the Water. But when she was in, she
               would have carry'd twenty Men with great Ease.</p>
            <p>When she was in the Water, and tho' she was so big it amazed me to see with what
               Dexterity and how swift my Man <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> would manage her, and paddle her
               along; so I ask'd him if he would, and if we might venture over in her. <hi rend="italic">Yes</hi>,
               he said, <hi rend="italic">he venture over in her very well, tho' great blow Wind.</hi> However, I
               had a farther 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 pitch'd upon a strait young Cedar-Tree, which I found near the Place, and which
               there was great Plenty of in the Island, and I set <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> 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 six and twenty 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 appear'd 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 Corner'd ugly Thing, like
               what we call in <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> a Shoulder of Mutton Sail, to go with a <ref target="boom_" corresp="boom">Boom</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="boom" target="boom_" type="gloss">A long spar running from different
                  places in the ship to the base of a mast</note> at bottom, and a little <ref target="shortspirit_" corresp="shortspirit">short Sprit</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="shortspirit" target="shortspirit_" type="gloss">A small spar reaching diagonally from low on a mast to the upper
                  outer corner of a sail.</note> at the Top, such as usually our Ship's Long-Boats
               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 <hi rend="italic">Barbary,</hi> as related in the first
               Part of my Story.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="271"/>I was near two Months performing this last
               Work, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> rigging and fitting my Mast and Sails; for I finish'd them very
               compleat, 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 fix'd a Rudder to the Stern of her,
               to steer with; and though I was but a bungling Shipwright, yet as I knew the
               Usefulness, and even Necessity of such a Thing, I apply'd my self 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 fail'd, I think it cost me almost as much Labour as
               making the Boat.</p>
            <p>After all this was done too, I had my Man <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> to
               teach as to what belong'd to the Navigation of my Boat; for though he knew very well
               how to paddle a <hi rend="italic">Canoe,</hi> he knew nothing what belong'd to a Sail, and a
               Rudder; and was the most amaz'd, when he saw me work the Boat too and again in the
               Sea by the Rudder, and how the Sail <ref target="gib2_" corresp="gib2">gyb'd</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="gib2" target="gib2_" type="gloss">Turned downwind</note>, and fill'd this way, or that way, as the
               Course we sail'd chang'd; I say, when he saw this, he stood like one, astonish'd, and
               amaz'd: 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 no body car'd to stir abroad,
                  either by Land or Sea.</p>
            <p>I was now entred 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 <pb n="272"/> 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 Acknowledgment 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 deliver'd; 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 gather'd and cur'd my Grapes, and
               did every necessary Thing as before.</p>
            <p>The rainy Season was in the mean Time upon me, when I kept more within Doors than at
               other Times; so I had stow'd 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 haling her up to the Shore, at high Water mark, I made my Man <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> dig
               a little Dock, just big enough to hold her, and just deep enough to give her Water enough to <ref target="float_" corresp="float">fleet</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="float" target="float_" type="gloss">Float</note> in; and then when the Tide was out, we made a strong Dam
               cross 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 thatch'd as a House; and thus we waited for the Month of
                  <hi rend="italic">November</hi> and <hi rend="italic">December,</hi> in which I design'd to make my Adventure.</p>
            <p>When the settled Season began to come in, as the thought of my Design return'd with
               the fair Weather, I was preparing daily for the Voyage; and the first Thing I did,
               was to lay by a certain Quantity of Provisions, being the Stores for our Voyage; and
               intended in a Week or a Fortnight's <pb n="273"/> Time, to
               open the Dock, and launch out our Boat. I was busy one Morning upon some Thing of
               this kind, when I call'd to <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> and bid him go to the Sea Shore, and see
               if he could find a Turtle, or Tortoise, a Thing which we generally got once a Week,
               for the Sake of the Eggs, as well as the Flesh: <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> had not been long
               gone, when he came running back, and flew over my outer Wall, or Fence, like one that
               felt not the Ground, or the Steps he set his Feet on; and before I had time to speak
               to him, he cries out to me, <hi rend="italic">O Master! O Master! O
                  Sorrow! O bad!</hi> What's the Matter, <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> says I; <hi rend="italic">O yonder,
                  there,</hi> says he, <hi rend="italic">one, two, three Canoe! one, two, three!</hi> By his way
               of speaking, I concluded there were six; but on enquiry, I
               found it was but three: Well, <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> says I, do not be frighted; so I
               heartned him up as well as I could: However, I saw the poor Fellow was most terribly
               scar'd; for nothing ran in his Head but that they were come to look for him, and
               would cut him in Pieces, and eat him; and the poor Fellow trembled so, that I scarce
               knew what to do with him: I comforted him as well as I could, and told him I was in
               as much Danger as he, and that they would eat me as well as him; <hi rend="italic">but,</hi> says
               I, <hi rend="italic">Friday, we must resolve to fight them; Can you fight,</hi> Friday? <hi rend="italic">Me
                  shoot,</hi> says he, <hi rend="italic">but there come many great Number.</hi> No matter for
               that, said I again, our Guns will fright them that we do not kill; so I ask'd him,
               Whether if I resolv'd to defend him, he would defend me, and stand by me, and do just
               as I bid him? He said, <hi rend="italic">Me die, when you bid die, Master</hi>; so I went and
               fetch'd a good Dram of Rum, and gave him; for I had been so good a Husband of my Rum, that I had a great deal left: When he had
               drank it, I made him take the two Fowling-Pieces, which we always carry'd, and load
               them with large Swan-Shot, as big as small Pistol <pb n="274"/> Bullets; then I took four Muskets, and loaded them
               with two Slugs, and five small Bullets each; and my two Pistols I loaded with a Brace
               of Bullets each; I hung my great Sword as usual, naked by my Side, and gave
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> his Hatchet.</p>
            <p>When I had thus prepar'd my self, I took my Perspective-Glass, and went up to the Side of the Hill, to see what I could discover;
               and I found quickly, by my Glass, that there were one and twenty Savages, three Prisoners, and three <hi rend="italic">Canoes</hi>; and that
               their whole Business seem'd to be the triumphant Banquet
               upon these three humane Bodies, (a barbarous Feast indeed) but nothing else more than
               as I had observ'd was usual with them.</p>
            <p>I observ'd also, that they were landed not where they had done, when <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi>
               made his Escape; but nearer to my Creek, where the Shore was low, and where a thick
               Wood came close almost down to the Sea: This, with the Abhorrence of the inhumane
               Errand these Wretches came about, fill'd me with such Indignation, that I came down
               again to <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> and told him, I was resolv'd to go down to them, and kill
               them all; and ask'd him, If he would stand by me? He was now gotten over his Fright,
               and his Spirits being a little rais'd, with the Dram I had given him, he was very
               chearful, and told me, as before, <hi rend="italic">he would die, when I bid die.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>In this Fit of Fury, I took first and divided the Arms which I had charg'd, as
               before, between us; I gave <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> one Pistol to stick in his Girdle, and
               three Guns upon his Shoulder; and I took one Pistol, and the
               other three my self; and in this Posture we march'd out: I
               took a small Bottle of Rum in my Pocket, and gave <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> a large Bag, with
               more Powder and Bullet; and as to Orders, I charg'd him to keep close behind me, and
               not to stir, or shoot, or do any Thing, till I bid him; and <pb n="275"/> in the mean Time, not to speak a Word: In this Posture
               I <ref target="compass_" corresp="compass">fetch'd a Compass to my Right-Hand, of
                  near a Mile</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="compass" target="compass_" type="gloss">He took a mile-long detour to the right-hand side
                  ("compass" here refers to a circuitous route, not a navigation tool)</note>, as
               well to get over the Creek, as to get into the Wood; so that I might come within
               shoot of them, before I should be discover'd, which I had seen by my Glass, it was
               easy to do.</p>
            <p>While I was making this March, my former Thoughts returning, I began to abate my
                  Resolution; I do not mean, that I entertain'd any Fear of
               their Number; for as they were naked, unarm'd Wretches, 'tis certain I was superior
               to them; nay, <ref target="though_" corresp="though">though</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="though" target="though_" type="gloss">Even
                  if</note> I had been alone; but it occurr'd to my Thoughts, What Call? What
               Occasion? much less, What Necessity I was in to go and dip my Hands in Blood, to
               attack People, who had neither done, or intended me any Wrong? Who as to me were
               innocent, and whose barbarous Customs were their own Disaster, being in them a Token
               indeed of God's having left them, with the other Nations of that Part of the World,
               to such Stupidity, and to such inhumane Courses; but did not call me to take upon me
               to be a Judge of their Actions, much less an Executioner of his Justice; that
               whenever he thought fit, he would take the Cause into his own Hands, and by national
               Vengeance punish them as a People, for national Crimes; but that in the mean time, it
               was none of my Business; that it was true, <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> might justify it, because
               he was a declar'd Enemy, and in a State of War with those very particular People; and
               it was lawful for him to attack them; but I could not say the same with respect to
               me: These Things were so warmly press'd upon my Thoughts, all the way as I went, that
               I resolv'd I would only go and place my self near them, that I might observe their
               barbarous Feast, and that I would act then as God should direct; but that unless something offer'd that was <pb n="276"/> more a Call to me than yet I knew of, I would not
               meddle with them.</p>
            <p>With this Resolution I enter'd the Wood, and with all possible Waryness and Silence,
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> following close at my Heels, I march'd
               till I came to the <ref target="skirt_" corresp="skirt">Skirt</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="skirt" target="skirt_" type="gloss">Edge</note> of the Wood, on the Side which was next to them; only that one Corner
               of the Wood lay between me and them; here I call'd softly to <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> and
               shewing him a great Tree, which was just at the Corner of the Wood, I <ref target="bade_" corresp="bade">bad</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="bade" target="bade_" type="gloss">Bade/bid</note> him go to the Tree, and
               bring me Word if he could see there plainly what they were doing; he did so, and came
               immediately back to me, and told me they might be plainly view'd there; that they
               were all about their Fire, eating the Flesh of one of their Prisoners; and that another lay bound upon the Sand, a little
               from them, which he said they would kill next, and which fir'd all the very Soul
               within me; he told me it was not one of their Nation; but one of the bearded Men, who
               he had told me of, that came to their Country in the Boat: I was fill'd with Horror
               at the very naming the white-bearded Man, and going to the Tree, I saw plainly by my
               Glass, a white Man who lay upon the Beach of the Sea, with his Hands and his Feet
               ty'd, with Flags, or Things like Rushes; and that he was an <hi rend="italic">European,</hi> and
               had Cloaths on.</p>
            <p>There was another Tree, and a little Thicket beyond it, about fifty Yards nearer to
               them than the Place where I was, which by going a little way about, I saw I might
               come at undiscover'd, and that then I should be within half Shot of them; so I
               with-held my Passion, though I was indeed enrag'd to the
               highest Degree, and going back about twenty Paces, I got behind some Bushes, which
               held all the way, till I came to the other Tree; and then I came to a little rising
               Ground, which gave me a <pb n="277"/> full View of them, at
               the Distance of about eighty Yards.</p>
            <p>I had now not a Moment to loose; for nineteen of the dreadful Wretches sat upon the
               Ground, all close huddled together, and had just sent the other two to butcher the
               poor <hi rend="italic">Christian,</hi> and bring him perhaps Limb by Limb to their Fire, and they
               were stoop'd down to untie the Bands, at his Feet; I turn'd to <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> now
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> said I, do as I bad thee; <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> said he would; then
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> says I, do exactly as you see me do, fail in nothing; so I set
               down one of the Muskets, and the Fowling-Piece, upon the Ground, and <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi>
               did the like by his; and with the other Musket, I took my aim at the Savages, bidding
               him do the like; then asking him, If he was ready? He said, yes, then fire at them,
               said I; and the same Moment I fir'd also.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> took his Aim so much better than I, that on the Side that he shot, he
               kill'd two of them, and wounded three more; and on my Side, I kill'd one, and wounded
               two: They were, you may be sure, in a dreadful Consternation; and all of them, who
               were not hurt, jump'd up upon their Feet, but did not immediately know which way to
               run, or which way to look; for they knew not from whence their Destruction came:
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> kept his Eyes close upon me, that as I had bid him, he might
               observe what I did; so as soon as the first Shot was made, I threw down the Piece,
               and took up the Fowling-Piece, and <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> did the like; he see me cock, and
                  <ref target="cock_" corresp="cock">present</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="cock" target="cock_" type="gloss">To
                  prepare a loaded gun for firing by raising the hammer (cocking) and aiming it
                  (presenting)</note>, he did the same again; Are you ready? <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> said
               I; yes, says he; let fly then, says I, in the Name of God, and with that I fir'd
               again among the amaz'd Wretches, and so did <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi>; and as our Pieces were
               now loaden with what I call'd Swan-Shot, or small Pistol Bullets, <pb n="278"/> we found only two drop; but so many
               were wounded, that they run about yelling, and skreaming,
               like mad Creatures, all bloody, and miserably wounded, most of them; whereof three
               more fell quickly after, though not quite dead.</p>
            <p>Now <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> says I, laying down the discharg'd Pieces, and taking up the
               Musket, which was yet loaden; follow me, says I, which he did, with a great deal of
               Courage; upon which I rush'd out of the Wood, and shew'd my self, and <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi>
               close at my Foot; as soon as I perceiv'd they saw me, I shouted as loud as I could,
               and bad <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> do so too; and running as fast as I could, <hi rend="italic">which by the
                  way, was not very fast, being loaden with Arms as I was,</hi> I made directly
               towards the poor Victim, who was, as I said, lying upon the Beach, or Shore, between
               the Place where they sat, and the Sea; the two Butchers who were just going to work
               with him, had left him, at the Suprize of our first Fire, and fled in a terrible
               Fright, to the Sea Side, and had jump'd into a <hi rend="italic">Canoe,</hi> and three more of the
               rest made the same way; I turn'd to <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> and bid him step forwards, and
               fire at them; he understood me immediately, and running
               about forty Yards, to be near them, he shot at them, and I thought he had kill'd them
               all; for I see them all fall of a Heap into the Boat; though I saw two of them up
               again quickly: However, he kill'd two of them, and wounded the third; so that he lay
               down in the Bottom of the Boat, as if he had been dead.</p>
            <p>While my Man <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> fir'd at them, I pull'd out my Knife, and cut the Flags
               that bound the poor Victim, and loosing his Hands, and Feets, I lifted him up, and
               ask'd him in the <hi rend="italic">Portuguese</hi> Tongue, What he was? He answer'd in Latin,
                  <hi rend="italic">Christianus</hi>; but was so weak, and faint, that he could scarce <pb n="279"/> stand, or speak; I took my Bottle out of my Pocket, and gave it him, making Signs that he should drink,
               which he did; and I gave him a Piece of Bread, which he eat; then I ask'd him, What
               Countryman he was? And he said, <hi rend="italic">Espagniole</hi>; and being a little recover'd,
               let me know by all the Signs he could possibly make, how much he was in my Debt for
               his Deliverance; <hi rend="italic">Seignior,</hi> said I, with as much <hi rend="italic">Spanish</hi> as I could
               make up, we will talk afterwards; but we must fight now; if you have any Strength
               left, take this Pistol, and Sword, and lay about you; he took them very thankfully,
               and no sooner had he the Arms in his Hands, but as if they had put new Vigour into
               him, he flew upon his Murtherers, like a Fury, and had cut two of them in Pieces, in
               an instant; for the Truth is, as the whole was a Surprize to them; so the poor
               Creatures were so much frighted with the Noise of our Pieces, that they fell down for
               meer Amazement, and Fear; and had no more Power to attempt their own Escape, than their Flesh had to resist our
               Shot; and that was the Case of those Five that <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> shot at in the Boat;
               for as three of them fell with the Hurt they receiv'd; so the other two fell with the Fright.</p>
            <p>I kept my Piece in my Hand still, without firing, being willing to keep my Charge
               ready; because I had given the <hi rend="italic">Spaniard</hi> my Pistol, and Sword; so I call'd to
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> and bad him run up to the Tree, from whence we first fir'd, and
               fetch the Arms which lay there, that had been discharg'd, which he did with great
               Swiftness; and then giving him my Musket, I sat down my self to load all the rest
               again, and bad them come to me when they wanted: While I was
               loading these Pieces, there happen'd a fierce Engagement
               between the <hi rend="italic">Spaniard,</hi> and one of the Savages, who made at him with one of
                  <pb n="280"/> their great wooden Swords, the same Weapon
               that was to have kill'd him before, if I had not prevented
               it: The <hi rend="italic">Spaniard,</hi> who was as bold, and as brave as could be imagin'd, though
               weak, had fought this <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> a good while, and had cut him two great Wounds
               on his Head; but the Savage being a stout lusty Fellow, closing in with him, had
               thrown him down (being faint) and was wringing my Sword out of his Hand, when the
                  <hi rend="italic">Spaniard,</hi> tho' undermost wisely quitting the Sword, drew the Pistol from
               his Girdle, shot the Savage through the Body, and kill'd him upon the Spot; before I,
               who was running to help him, could come near him.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> being now left to his Liberty, pursu'd the flying Wretches with no
               Weapon in his Hand, but his Hatchet; and with that he dispatch'd those three, who, as
               I said before, were wounded at first and fallen, and all the rest he could come up
               with, and the <hi rend="italic">Spaniard</hi> coming to me for a Gun, I gave him one of the
               Fowling-Pieces, with which he pursu'd two of the Savages, and wounded them both; but
               as he was not able to run, they both got from him into the Wood, where
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> pursu'd them, and kill'd one of them; but the other was too nimble
               for him, and though he was wounded, yet had plunged himself into the Sea, and swam
               with all his might off to those two who were left in the <hi rend="italic">Canoe,</hi> which three
               in the <hi rend="italic">Canoe,</hi> with one wounded, who we know not
               whether he dy'd or no, were all that escap'd our Hands of one and twenty: The Account
               of the Rest is as follows;</p> 
            <p>
                            <lg type="list">
                  <l>3 Kill'd at our first Shot from the Tree.</l>
                  <l>2 Kill'd at the next Shot.</l>
                  <l>2 Kill'd by <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> in the Boat.</l>
                  <l>2 Kill'd by <hi rend="italic">Ditto,</hi> of those at first wounded.</l>
                  <l>1 Kill'd by <hi rend="italic">Ditto,</hi> in the Wood.</l>
                 
                  <pb n="281"/> <l>3 Kill'd by the <hi rend="italic">Spaniard.</hi>
                                </l>
                  
                  <l>4 Kill'd, being found dropp'd here and there of their Wounds, or kill'd by
                        <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> in his Chase of them.</l>
                  <l>4 Escap'd in the Boat, whereof one wounded if not dead.</l>
                  <l>21 In all.</l>
               </lg>
            </p>
            <p>Those that were in the <hi rend="italic">Canoe,</hi> work'd hard to get out of Gun-Shot; and though
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> made two or three Shot at them, I did not find that he hit any of
               them: <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> would fain have had me took one of their <hi rend="italic">Canoes,</hi> and
               pursu'd them; and indeed I was very anxious about their Escape, least carrying the News home to their People, they should come back
               perhaps with two or three hundred of their <hi rend="italic">Canoes,</hi> and devour us by meer
               Multitude; so I consented to pursue them by Sea, and running to one of their
                  <hi rend="italic">Canoes,</hi> I jump'd in, and bad <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> follow me; but when I was in
               the <hi rend="italic">Canoe,</hi> I was surpriz'd to find another poor Creature lye there alive, bound Hand and Foot, as the <hi rend="italic">Spaniard</hi> was, for
               the Slaughter, and almost dead with Fear, not knowing what the Matter was; for he had
               not been able to look up over the Side of the Boat, he was ty'd so hard, Neck and
               Heels, and had been ty'd so long, that he had really but little Life in him.</p>
            <p>I immediately cut the twisted Flags, or Rushes, which they had bound him with, and
               would have helped him up; but he could not stand, or speak, but groan'd most
               piteously, believing it seems still that he was only unbound in order to be
               kill'd.</p>
            <p>When <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> came to him, I bad him speak to him, and tell him of his
               Deliverance, and pulling out my Bottle, made him give the poor Wretch a <pb n="282"/> Dram, which, with the News of his being deliver'd, reviv'd him, and he sat up in the Boat; but when
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> came to hear him speak, and look in his Face, it would have mov'd
               any one to Tears, to have seen how <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> kiss'd him, embrac'd him, hugg'd
               him, cry'd, laugh'd, hollow'd, jump'd about, danc'd, sung,
               then cry'd again, wrung his Hands, beat his own Face, and Head, and then sung, and
               jump'd about again, like a distracted Creature: It was a good while before I could
               make him speak to me, or tell me what was the Matter; but
               when he came a little to himself, he told me, that it was his Father.</p>
            <p>It is not easy for me to express how it mov'd me to see what Extasy and filial
               Affection had work'd in this poor <hi rend="italic">Savage,</hi> at the Sight of his Father, and of his being deliver'd from Death; nor indeed can
               I describe half the Extravagancies of his Affection after this; for he went into the
               Boat and out of the Boat a great many times: When he went in to him, he would sit
               down by him, open his Breast, and hold his Father's Head close to his Bosom, half an
               Hour together, to nourish it; then he took his Arms and
               Ankles, which were numb'd and stiff with the Binding, and chaffed and rubbed them
               with his Hands; and I perceiving what the Case was, gave him
               some Rum out of my Bottle, to rub them with, which did them a great deal of Good.</p>
            <p>This Action put an End to our Pursuit of the Canoe, with the other <hi rend="italic">Savages,</hi>
               who were now gotten almost out of Sight; and it was happy for us that we did not; for
               it blew so hard within two Hours after, and before they could be gotten a Quarter of
               their Way, and continued blowing so hard all Night, and that from the
                  <hi rend="italic">North-west,</hi> which was against them, that I could not suppose <pb n="283"/> their Boat could live, or that they ever reach'd to
               their own Coast.</p>
            <p>But to return to <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> he was so busy about his Father, that I could not
               find in my Heart to take him off for some time: But after I thought he could leave
               him a little, I call'd him to me, and he came jumping and laughing, and pleas'd to
               the highest Extream; then I ask'd him, If he had given his Father any Bread? He shook
               his Head, and said, <hi rend="italic">None: <ref target="uglydog_" corresp="uglydog">Ugly
                     Dog</ref>
                                <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="uglydog" target="uglydog_" type="gloss">As tempting as it is to read this as Friday
                     insulting the Spaniard, he is actually referring (rather alarmingly) to
                     himself!</note> eat all up self;</hi> so I gave him a Cake of Bread out of a
               little Pouch I carry'd on Purpose; I also gave him a Dram for himself, but he would
               not taste it, but carry'd it to his Father: I had in my
               Pocket also two or three Bunches of my Raisins, so I gave
               him a Handful of them for his Father. He had no sooner given his Father these Raisins, but I saw him come out of the Boat, and
               run away, as if he had been bewitch'd, he run at such a Rate; for he was the swiftest
                  Fellow of his Foot that ever I saw; I say, he run at such
               a Rate, that he was out of Sight, as it were, in an instant; and though I call'd, and
               hollow'd too, after him, it was all one, away he went, and in a Quarter of an Hour, I
               saw him come back again, though not so fast as he went; and
               as he came nearer, I found his Pace was slacker, because he had something in his
               Hand.</p>
            <p>When he came up to me, I found he had been quite Home for an Earthen Jugg or Pot to
               bring his Father some fresh Water, and that he had got two more Cakes, or Loaves of
               Bread: The Bread he gave me, but the Water he carry'd to his Father: However, as I
               was very thirsty too, I took a little Sup of it. This Water
               reviv'd his Father more than all the Rum or Spirits I had given him; for he was just
               fainting with Thirst.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="284"/>When his Father had drank, I call'd to him to
               know if there was any Water left; he said, yes; and I bad him give it to the poor
                  <hi rend="italic">Spaniard,</hi> who was in as much Want of it as his Father; and I sent one of
               the Cakes, that <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> brought, to the <hi rend="italic">Spaniard</hi> too, who was indeed
               very weak, and was reposing himself upon a green Place under the Shade of a Tree; and
               whose Limbs were also very stiff, and very much swell'd with the rude Bandage he had
               been ty'd with. When I saw that upon <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi>'s
               coming to him with the Water, he sat up and drank, and took the Bread, and began to
               eat, I went to him, and gave him a Handful of Raisins; he look'd up in my Face with
               all the Tokens of Gratitude and Thankfulness, that could appear in any Countenance;
               but was so weak, notwithstanding he had so exerted himsef in
               the Fight, that he could not stand up upon his Feet; he try'd to do it two or three
               times, but was really not able, his Ankles were so swell'd and so painful to him; so
               I bad him sit still, and caused <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> to rub his Ankles, and bathe them
               with Rum, as he had done his Father's.</p>
            <p>I observ'd the poor affectionate Creature every two Minutes, or perhaps less, all the
               while he was here, turn'd his Head about, to see if his Father was in the same Place, and Posture, as he left him sitting; and at last he
               found he was not to be seen; at which he started up, and without speaking a Word,
               flew with that Swiftness to him, that one could scarce perceive his Feet to touch the
               Ground, as he went: But when he came, he only found he had laid himself down to ease
               his Limbs; so <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> came back to me presently, and I then spoke to the
                  <hi rend="italic">Spaniard</hi> to let <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> help him up if he could, and lead him to
               the Boat, and then he should carry him to our Dwelling, where <pb n="285"/> I would take Care of him: But <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> a lusty
               strong Fellow, took the <hi rend="italic">Sqaniard</hi> quite up upon his Back, and carry'd him
               away to the Boat, and set him down softly upon the Side or Gunnel of the Canoe, with
               his Feet in the inside of it, and then lifted him quite in, and set him close to his
                  Father, and presently stepping out again, launched the
               Boat off, and paddled it along the Shore faster than I could
               walk, tho' the Wind blew pretty hard too; so he brought them
               both safe into our Creek; and leaving them in the Boat, runs away to fetch the other
               Canoe. As he pass'd me, I spoke to him, and ask'd him, whither he went, he told me,
                  <hi rend="italic">Go fetch more Boat</hi>; so away he went like the Wind; for sure never Man or
               Horse run like him, and he had the other Canoe in the Creek, almost as soon as I got
               to it by Land; so he wafted me over, and then went to help
               our new Guests out of the Boat, which he did; but they were neither of them able to
               walk; so that poor <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> knew not what to do.</p>
            <p>To remedy this, I went to Work in my Thought, and calling to <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> to bid
               them sit down on the Bank while he came to me, I soon made a Kind of Hand-Barrow to
               lay them on, and <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> and I carry'd them up both together upon it between
               us: But when we got them to the outside of our Wall or Fortification, we were at a
               worse Loss than before; for it was impossible to get them
               over; and I was resolv'd not to break it down: So I set to Work again; and
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> and I, in about 2 Hours time, made a very handsom Tent, cover'd
               with old Sails, and above that with Boughs of Trees, being in the Space without our
               outward Fence, and between that and the Grove of young Wood which I had planted: And
               here we made them two Beds of such things as I had <hi rend="italic">(viz.)</hi> of good
               Rice-Straw, <pb n="286"/> with Blankets laid upon it to lye
               on, and another to cover them on each Bed.</p>
            <p>My Island was now peopled, and I thought my self very rich in Subjects; and it was a
               merry Reflection which I frequently made, How like a King I
               look'd. First of all, the whole Country was my own meer Property; so that I had an
               undoubted Right of Dominion. 2<hi rend="italic">dly,</hi> My People were perfectly subjected: I was absolute Lord and Lawgiver; they
               all owed their Lives to me, and were ready to lay down their Lives, <hi rend="italic">if there had
                  been Occasion of it,</hi> for me. It was remarkable too,
               we had but three Subjects, and they were of three different Religions. My Man
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> was a Protestant, his Father was a <hi rend="italic">Pagan</hi> and a
                  <hi rend="italic">Cannibal,</hi> and the <hi rend="italic">Spaniard</hi> was a Papist: However, I allow'd
               Liberty of Conscience throughout my Dominions: But this is
                  <ref target="bytheway_" corresp="bytheway">by the Way</ref>. <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="bytheway" target="bytheway_" type="gloss">Of little consequence; extraneous information</note>
            </p>
            <p>As soon as I had secur'd my two weak rescued Prisoners, and given them Shelter, and a
               Place to rest them upon, I began to think of making some Provision for them: And the
               first thing I did, I order'd <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> to take a <ref target="yearling_" corresp="yearling">yearling</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="yearling" target="yearling_" type="gloss">Adolescent (~2 years)</note>
               Goat, betwixt a Kid and a Goat, out of my particular Flock, to be kill'd, when I cut
               off the hinder Quarter, and chopping it into small Pieces, I set <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> to
               Work to boiling and stewing, and made them a very good Dish, I assure you, of Flesh
               and Broth, having put some Barley and Rice also into the
               Broth; and as I cook'd it <ref target="outdoors_" corresp="outdoors">without</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="outdoors" target="outdoors_" type="gloss">Out of</note> Doors, for I made no Fire within my
               inner Wall, so I carry'd it all into the new Tent; and having set a Table there for
               them, I sat down and eat my own Dinner also with them, and,
               as well as I could, chear'd them and encourag'd them; <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> being my
                  Interpreter, especially to his Father, and indeed to the
                  <pb n="287"/>
               <hi rend="italic">Spaniard</hi> too; for the <hi rend="italic">Spaniard</hi> spoke the Language of the
                  <hi rend="italic">Savages</hi> pretty well.</p>
            <p>After we had dined, or rather supped, I order'd <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> to take one of the
               Canoes, and go and fetch our Muskets and other Fire-Arms, which for Want of time we
               had left upon the Place of Battle, and the next Day I order'd him to go and bury the
               dead Bodies of the Savages, which lay open to the Sun, and would presently be
               offensive; and I also order'd him to bury the horrid Remains of their barbarous
               Feast, which I knew were <ref target="prettymuch_" corresp="prettymuch">pretty much</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="prettymuch" target="prettymuch_" type="gloss">Copious</note>, and which I
               could not think of doing my self; nay, I could not bear to see them, if I went that
               Way: All which he punctually performed, and <ref target="deface_" corresp="deface">defaced</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="deface" target="deface_" type="gloss">Removed all traces of</note> the very Appearance of
               the <hi rend="italic">Savages</hi> being there; so that when I went again, I could scarce know
               where it was, otherwise than by the Corner of the Wood pointing to the Place.</p>
            <p>I then began to enter into a little Conversation with my two new Subjects; and first
               I set <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> to enquire of his Father, what he thought of the Escape of the
                  <hi rend="italic">Savages</hi> in that Canoe, and whether we might expect a Return of them with
               a Power too great for us to resist: His first Opinion was, that the Savages in the
               Boat never could live out the Storm which blew that Night they went off, but must of
                  Necessity be drowned or driven <hi rend="italic">South</hi> to those
               other Shores where they were as sure to be devoured as they were to be drowned if
               they were cast away; but as to what they would do if they came safe on Shore, he said
               he knew not; but it was his Opinion that they were so dreadfully frighted with the
               Manner of their being attack'd, the Noise and the Fire, that he believed they would
               tell their People, they were all kill'd by Thunder and Lightning, not by the Hand of
               Man, and that the two which appear'd, <hi rend="italic">(viz.) Friday</hi>
               and me, were two Heavenly <pb n="288"/> Spirits or Furies,
               come down to destroy them, and not Men with Weapons: This he said he knew, because he
               heard them all cry out so in their Language to one another,
               for it was impossible to them to conceive that a Man could dart Fire, and speak
               Thunder, and kill at a Distance without lifting up the Hand, as was done now: And
               this old Savage was in the right; for, as I understood since by other Hands, the
               Savages never attempted to go over to the Island afterwards;
               they were so terrified with the Accounts given by those four Men, (for it seems they
               did escape the Sea) that they believ'd whoever went to that enchanted Island would be
               destroy'd with Fire from the Gods.</p>
            <p>This however I knew not, and therefore was under continual
               Apprehensions for a good while, and kept always upon my Guard, me and all my Army;
               for as we were now four of us, I would have ventur'd upon a
               hundred of them fairly in the open Field at any Time.</p>
            <head> <ref target="Audio19_" corresp="Audio19">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio19" target="Audio19_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_19_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            <p>In a little Time, however, no more Canoes appearing, the
               Fear of their Coming wore off, and I began to take my former Thoughts of a Voyage to
               the Main into Consideration, being likewise assur'd by
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi>'s Father, that I might depend upon good Usage from their Nation on
               his Account, if I would go.</p>
            <p>But my Thoughts were a little suspended, when I had a serious Discourse with the
                  <hi rend="italic">Spaniard,</hi> and when I understood that there were sixteen more of his
               Countrymen and <hi rend="italic">Portuguese,</hi> which is near that Number, who having been cast
               away, and made their Escape to that Side, liv'd there at Peace indeed with the Savages, but were very sore put to it for
               Necessaries, and indeed for Life: I ask'd him all the Particulars of their Voyage,
               and found they were a <hi rend="italic">Spanish</hi> Ship bound from the <hi rend="italic">Rio de la Plata</hi>
               <pb n="289"/> to the <hi rend="italic">Havana,</hi> being directed to
               leave their Loading there, which was chiefly Hides and
               Silver, and to bring back what <hi rend="italic">European</hi> Goods they could meet with there;
               that they had five <hi rend="italic">Portuguese</hi> Seamen on Board, who
               they took out of another Wreck; that five of their own Men were drowned when the
               first Ship was lost, and that these escaped thro' infinite Dangers and Hazards, and
               arriv'd almost starv'd on the <hi rend="italic">Cannibal</hi> Coast, where
               they expected to have been devour'd every Moment.</p>
            <p>He told me, they had some Arms with them, but they were perfectly useless, for that
               they had neither Powder or Ball, the Washing of the Sea having spoil'd all their Powder but a little, which they used at their first Landing
               to provide themselves some Food.</p>
            <p>I ask'd him what he thought would become of them there, and if they had form'd no
               Design of making any Escape? He said, They had many Consultations about it, but that
               having neither Vessel, or Tools to build one, or Provisions of any kind, their
               Councils always ended in Tears and Despair.</p>
            <p>I ask'd him how he thought they would receive a Proposal from me, which might tend
               towards an Escape? And whether, if they were all here, it
               might not be done? I told him with Freedom, I fear'd mostly their Treachery and ill
               Usage of me, if I put my Life in their Hands; for that Gratitude was no inherent
               Virtue in the Nature of Man; nor did Men always square their Dealings by the Obligations they had receiv'd, so much as they did by the
               Advantages they expected. I told him it would be very hard, that I should be the
               Instrument of their Deliverance, and that they should afterwards make me their Prisoner in <ref target="newspain_" corresp="newspain">New
                  Spain,</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="newspain" target="newspain_" type="gloss">Spain's New World land holdings, spanning
                  modern-day Mexico, the southwestern United States, and northern regions of South
                  America</note> where an <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Man was certain to be made a Sacrifice, <pb n="290"/> what
               Necessity, or what Accident soever, brought him thither: And that I had rather be
                  deliver'd up to the <hi rend="italic">Savages,</hi> and be devour'd
               alive, than fall into the merciless Claws of the Priests, and be carry'd into the
                  <hi rend="italic">Inquisition.</hi> I added, That otherwise I was
               perswaded, if they were all here, we might, with so many Hands, build a Bark large
               enough to carry us all away, either to the <hi rend="italic">Brasils</hi> South-ward, or to the
                  <ref target="caribbean2_" corresp="caribbean2">Islands</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="caribbean2" target="caribbean2_" type="gloss">Caribbean</note> or <hi rend="italic">Spanish</hi> Coast North-ward: But that if in
               Requital they should, when I had put Weapons into their Hands, carry me by Force
               among their own People, I might be ill used for my Kindness to them, and make my Case
               worse than it was before.</p>
            <p>He answer'd with a great deal of Candor and Ingenuity, That their Condition was so
                  miserable, and they were so sensible of it, that he believed they would abhor the Thought of using any Man
               unkindly that should contribute to their Deliverance; and
               that, if I pleased, he would go to them with the old Man, and discourse with them
               about it, and return again, and bring me their Answer: That
               he would make Conditions with them upon their solemn Oath, That they should be absolutely under my Leading, as their Commander and Captain;
               and that they should swear upon the Holy Sacraments and the Gospel, to be true to me,
               and to go to such Christian Country, as that I should agree to, and no other; and to
               be directed wholly and absolutely to my Orders, 'till they were landed safely in such
               Country, as I intended; and that he would bring a Contract
               from them under their Hands for that Purpose.</p>
            <p>Then he told me, he would first swear to me himself, That he would never stir from me
               as long as he liv'd, 'till I gave him Orders; and that he would take my Side to the
               last Drop of his Blood, <pb n="291"/> if there should
               happen the least Breach of Faith among his Country-men.</p>
            <p>He told me, they were all of them very civil honest Men, and they were under the
               greatest Distress imaginable, having neither Weapons or
               Cloaths, nor any Food, but at the Mercy and Discretion of the <hi rend="italic">Savages</hi>; out
               of all Hopes of ever returning to their own Country; and that he was sure, if I would
               undertake their Relief, they would live and die by me.</p>
            <p>Upon these Assurances, I resolv'd to venture to relieve them, if possible, and to
               send the old <hi rend="italic">Savage</hi> and this <hi rend="italic">Spaniard</hi> over to them to treat: But
               when we had gotten all things in a Readiness to go, the <hi rend="italic">Spaniard</hi> himself
               started an Objection, which had so much Prudence in it on one hand, and so much
               Sincerity on the other hand, that I could not but be very well satisfy'd in it; and
               by his Advice, put off the Deliverance of his Comerades, for at least half a Year.
               The Case was thus:</p>
            <p>He had been with us now about a Month; during which time, I
               had let him see in what Manner I had provided, with the
               Assistance of Providence, for my Support; and he saw
               evidently what Stock of Corn and Rice I had laid up; which as it was more than
               sufficient for my self, so it was not sufficient, at least without good Husbandry,
               for my Family; now it was encreas'd to Number four: But much
               less would it be sufficient, if his Country-men, who were, as he said, fourteen still
               alive, should come over. And least of all should it be sufficient to victual our
               Vessel, if we should build one, for a Voyage to any of the Christian Colonies of <hi rend="italic">America.</hi> So he told me, he
               thought it would be more advisable, to let him and the two other, dig and cultivate
               some more Land, as much as I could spare Seed to sow; and that we <pb n="292"/> should wait another Harvest, that we might have a
               Supply of Corn for his Country-men when they should come; for Want might be a
               Temptation to them to disagree, or not to think themselves delivered, otherwise than out of one Difficulty into another.
               You know, says he, the Children of <hi rend="italic">Israel,</hi> though
               they rejoyc'd at first for their being deliver'd out of <hi rend="italic">Egypt,</hi> yet rebell'd
               even against God himself that deliver'd them, <ref target="exodus_" corresp="exodus">when they came to want Bread in the Wilderness</ref>. <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="exodus" target="exodus_" type="gloss">Exodus 16:3</note>
            </p>
            <p>His Caution was so seasonable, and his Advice so good, that I could not but be very
               well pleased with his Proposal, as well as I was satisfy'd with his Fidelity. So we
               fell to digging all four of us, as well as the Wooden Tools we were furnish'd with
               permitted; and in about a Month's time, by the End of which it was Seed time, we had
                  gotten as much Land cur'd and trim'd up, as we sowed 22 Bushels of Barley on, and 16 Jarrs of Rice, which was
               in short all the Seed we had to spare; nor indeed did we leave our selves Barley
                  sufficient for our own Food, for the six Months that we
               had to expect our Crop, that is to say, reckoning from the time we set our Seed aside
               for sowing; for it is not to be supposed it is six Months in the Ground in the
               Country.</p>
            <p>Having now Society enough, and our Number being sufficient to put us out of Fear of
               the <hi rend="italic">Savages,</hi> if they had come, unless their Number
               had been very great, we went freely all over the Island, where-ever we found
               Occasion; and as here we had our Escape or Deliverance upon our Thoughts, it was
               impossible, <hi rend="italic">at least for me,</hi> to have the Means of it out of mine; to this
               Purpose, I mark'd out several Trees which I thought fit for our Work, and I set
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> and his Father to cutting them down; and
               then I caused the <hi rend="italic">Spaniard,</hi>
               <pb n="293"/> to whom I imparted my Thought on that Affair,
               to oversee and direct their Work. I shewed them with what indefatigable Pains I had
               hewed a large Tree into single Planks, and I caused them to do the like, till they
               had made about a Dozen large Planks of good Oak, near 2 Foot broad, 35 Foot long, and
               from 2 Inches to 4 Inches thick: What prodigious Labour it took up, any one may imagine.</p>
            <p>At the same time I contriv'd to encrease my little Flock of
               tame Goats as much as I could; and to this Purpose, I made <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> and the
                  <hi rend="italic">Spaniard</hi> go out one Day, and my self with <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> the next Day;
               for we took our Turns: And by this Means we got above 20 young Kids to breed up with
               the rest; for when-ever we shot the Dam, we saved the Kids, and added them to our
               Flock: But above all, the Season for curing the Grapes coming on, I caused such a prodigious Quantity to be hung up in
               the Sun, that I believe, had we been at <ref target="alicant_" corresp="alicant">Alicant,</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="alicant" target="alicant_" type="gloss">A Spanish port city on the Costa Blanca</note>
               where the Raisins of the Sun are cur'd, we could have fill'd 60 or 80 Barrels; and
               these with our Bread was a great Part of our Food, and very good living too, I assure
               you; for it is an exceeding nourishing Food.</p>
            <p>It was now Harvest, and our Crop in good Order; it was not
               the most plentiful Encrease I had seen in the Island, but however it was enough to
               answer our End; for from our 22 Bushels of Barley, we
               brought in and thrashed out above 220 Bushels; and the like in Proportion of the
               Rice, which was Store enough for our Food to the next Harvest, tho' all the 16
                  <hi rend="italic">Spaniards</hi> had been on Shore with me; or if we had been ready for a
               Voyage, it would very plentifully have victualled our Ship, to have carry'd us to any
               Part of the World, that is to say, of <hi rend="italic">America.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>
               <pb n="294"/>When we had thus hous'd and secur'd our Magazine of Corn, we fell to Work to make more Wicker Work,
                  <hi rend="italic">(viz.)</hi> great Baskets in which we kept it; and the <hi rend="italic">Spaniard</hi> was
               very handy and dexterous at this Part, and often blam'd me
               that I did not make some things, for Defence, of this Kind of Work; but I saw no Need
               of it.</p>
            <p>And now having a full Supply of Food for all the Guests I expected, I gave the
                  <hi rend="italic">Spaniard</hi> Leave to go over to the <hi rend="italic">Main,</hi> to see what he could do
               with those he had left behind him there. I gave him a strict Charge in Writing, Not
               to bring any Man with him, who would not first swear in the Presence of himself and
               of the old <hi rend="italic">Savage,</hi> That he would no way injure, fight with, or attack the
               Person he should find in the Island, who was so kind to send for them in order to
               their Deliverance; but that they would stand by and defend
               him against all such Attempts, and where-ever they went, would be entirely under and
               subjected to his Commands; and that this should be put in Writing, and signed with
               their Hands: How we were to have this done, when I knew they had neither Pen or Ink; that indeed was a Question which we never
               asked.</p>
            <p>Under these Instructions, the <hi rend="italic">Spaniard,</hi> and the old <hi rend="italic">Savage</hi> the
               Father of <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> went away in one of the Canoes, which they might be said
               to come in, or rather were brought in, when they came as Prisoners to be devour'd by
               the <hi rend="italic">Savages.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>I gave each of them a Musket with a Firelock on it, and about eight Charges of Powder
               and Ball, charging them to be very good <ref target="steward_" corresp="steward">Husbands</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="steward" target="steward_">Stewards; caretakers. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note>
               of both, and not to use either of them but upon urgent
               Occasion.</p>
            <p>This was a chearful Work, being the first Measures used by
               me in View of my Deliverance for <pb n="295"/> now 27 Years
               and some Days. I gave them Provisions of Bread, and of dry'd
               Grapes, sufficient for themselves for many Days, and sufficient for all their
               Country-men for about eight Days time; and wishing them a good Voyage, I see them go,
               agreeing with them about a Signal they should hang out at their Return, by which I
               should know them again, when they came back, at a Distance, before they came on
               Shore.</p>
            <p>They went away with a fair Gale on the Day that the Moon was at Full by my Account,
               in the Month of <hi rend="italic">October:</hi> But as for an exact Reckoning of Days, after I had
               once lost it, I could never recover it again; nor had I kept even the Number of Years
               so punctually, as to be sure that I was right, tho' as it prov'd, when I afterwards
               examin'd my Account, I found I had kept a true Reckoning of
               Years.</p>
            <p>It was no less than eight Days I had waited for them, when a strange and unforeseen
               Accident interveen'd, of which the like has not perhaps been
               heard of in History: I was fast asleep in my Hutch one Morning, when my Man
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> came running in to me, and call'd aloud, Master, Master, they are
               come, they are come.</p>
            <p>I jump'd up, and regardless of Danger, I went out, as soon as I could get my Cloaths
               on, thro' my little Grove, which by the Way was by this time grown to be a very thick
               Wood; I say, regardless of Danger, I went without my Arms,
               which was not my Custom to do: But I was surpriz'd, when
               turning my Eyes to the Sea, I presently saw a Boat at about
               a League and half's Distance, standing in for the Shore,
               with a <hi rend="italic">Shoulder of Mutton Sail,</hi> as they call it; and the Wind blowing pretty fair to bring them in; also I observ'd presently,
               that they did not come from that Side which the Shore lay on, but from the Southermost <pb n="296"/> End of the
               Island: Upon this I call'd <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> in, and bid him lie close, for these were
               not the People we look'd for, and that we might not know yet whether they were
               Friends or Enemies.</p>
            <p>In the next Place, I went in to fetch my Perspective Glass,
               to see what I could make of them; and having taken the Ladder out, I climb'd up to
               the Top of the Hill, as I used to do when I was apprehensive of any thing, and to
               take my View the plainer without being discover'd.</p>
            <p>I had scarce set my Foot on the Hill, when my Eye plainly discover'd a Ship lying at
               an Anchor, at about two Leagues and an half's Distance from me South-south-east, but
               not above a League and an half from the Shore. By my Observation it appear'd plainly to be an <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Ship, and the Boat
               appear'd to be an <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Long-Boat.</p>
            <p>I cannot express the Confusion I was in, tho' the Joy of seeing a Ship, and one who I
               had Reason to believe was Mann'd by my own Country-men, and consequently Friends, was
               such as I cannot describe; but yet I had some secret Doubts
               hung about me, I cannot tell from whence they came, bidding
               me keep upon my Guard. In the first Place, it occurr'd to me to consider what
               Business an <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Ship could have in that Part of the World, since it was
               not the Way to or from any Part of the World, where the <hi rend="italic">English</hi> had any
                  Traffick; and I knew there had been no Storms to drive
               them in there, as in Distress; and that if they were <hi rend="italic">English</hi> really, it was
               most probable that they were here upon no good Design; and that I had better continue
               as I was, than fall into the Hands of Thieves and Murtherers.</p>
            <p>Let no Man despise the secret Hints and Notices of Danger,
               which sometimes are given him, when he may think there is no Possibility of its being <pb n="297"/> real. That such
               Hints and Notices are given us, I believe few that have made
               any Observations of things, can deny; that they are certain
                  Discoveries of an invisible World, and a Converse of
               Spirits, we cannot doubt; and if the Tendency of them seems to be to warn us of
               Danger, why should we not suppose they are from some friendly Agent, whether supreme,
               or inferior, and subordinate, is not the Question; and that
               they are given for our Good?</p>
            <p>The present Question abundantly confirms me in the Justice of this Reasoning; for had
               I not been made cautious by this secret Admonition, come it from whence it will, I
               had been undone inevitably, and in a far worse Condition
               than before, as you will see presently.</p>
            <p>I had not kept my self long in this Posture, but I saw the Boat draw near the Shore,
               as if they look'd for a Creek to thrust in at for the Convenience of Landing; however, as they did not come quite far enough, they did not see
               the little Inlet where I formerly landed my Rafts; but run their Boat on Shore upon
               the Beach, at about half a Mile from me, which was very happy for me; for otherwise
               they would have landed just as I may say at my Door, and would soon have beaten me
               out of my Castle, and perhaps have plunder'd me of all I had.</p>
            <p>When they were on Shore, I was fully satisfy'd that they were <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Men;
               at least, most of them; one or two I thought were <hi rend="italic">Dutch</hi>; but it did not
               prove so: There were in all eleven Men, whereof three of them I found were unarm'd,
               and as I thought, bound; and when the first four or five of them were jump'd on
               Shore, they took those three out of the Boat as Prisoners: One of the three I could
               perceive using the most passionate Gestures of <pb n="298" facs="tcp:0653600100:304"/> Entreaty, Affliction and Despair, even to a kind of Extravagance; the other two I
               could perceive lifted up their Hands sometimes, and appear'd concern'd indeed, but not to such a Degree as the first.</p>
            <p>I was perfectly confounded at the Sight, and knew not what the Meaning of it should
               be. <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> call'd out to me in <hi rend="italic">English,</hi> as
               well as he could, <hi rend="italic">O</hi> Master! <hi rend="italic">You see</hi> English <hi rend="italic">Mans eat Prisoner
                  as well as</hi> Savage <hi rend="italic">Mans.</hi> Why, says I, <hi rend="italic">Friday, Do you think they
                  are a going to eat them then? Yes,</hi> says Friday,
                  <hi rend="italic">They will eat them: No, no,</hi> says I, Friday, <hi rend="italic">I am afraid they will
                  murther them indeed, but you may be sure they will not eat them.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>All this while I had no thought of what the Matter really was; but stood trembling
               with the Horror of the Sight, expecting every Moment when the three Prisoners should
               be kill'd; nay, once I saw one of the Villains lift up his Arm with a great Cutlash, as the Seamen call it, or Sword, to strike one of the
               poor Men; and I expected to see him fall every Moment, at
               which all the Blood in my Body seem'd to run chill in my Veins.</p>
            <p>I wish'd heartily now for my <hi rend="italic">Spaniard,</hi> and the <hi rend="italic">Savage</hi> that was gone
               with him; or that I had any way to have come undiscover'd
               within shot of them, that I might have rescu'd the three Men; for I saw no Fire Arms
               they had among them; but it fell out to my Mind another way.</p>
            <p>After I had observ'd the outragious Usage of the three Men, by the insolent Seamen, I
               observ'd the Fellows run scattering about the Land, as if they wanted to see the
               Country: I observ'd that the three other Men had Liberty to go also where they
               pleas'd; but they sat down all three upon the Ground, very pensive, and look'd like
               Men in Despair.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="299"/>This put me in Mind of the first Time when I
               came on Shore, and began to look about me; How I gave my self over for lost: How
               wildly I look'd round me: What dreadful Apprehensions I had: And how I lodg'd in the
               Tree all Night for fear of being devour'd by wild Beasts.</p>
            <p>As I knew nothing that Night of the Supply I was to receive by the providential
               Driving of the Ship nearer the Land, by the Storms and Tide, by which I have since
               been so long nourish'd and supported; so these three poor
               desolate Men knew nothing how certain of Deliverance and
               Supply they were, how near it was to them, and how effectually and really they were in a Condition of Safety, at the same Time that they
               thought themselves lost, and their Case desperate.</p>
            <p>So little do we see before us in the World, and so much reason have we to depend
               chearfully upon the great Maker of the World, that he does not leave his Creatures so
               absolutely destitute, but that in the worst Circumstances they have always something to be thankful for, and sometimes are nearer their
               Deliverance than they imagine; nay, are even brought to their Deliverance by the
               Means by which they seem to be brought to their Destruction.</p>
            <p>It was just at the Top of High-Water when these People came on Shore, and while
               partly they stood parlying with the Prisoners they brought, and partly while they rambled about to see what kind of a Place they
               were in; they had carelesly staid till the Tide was spent, and the Water was ebb'd
                  considerably away, leaving their Boat a-ground.</p>
            <p>They had left two Men in the Boat, who as I found afterwards, having drank a little
               too much Brandy, fell a-sleep; however, one of them waking sooner than the other, and
               finding the Boat too fast <pb n="300"/> a-ground for him to
               stir it, hollow'd for the rest who were straggling about, upon which they all soon
               came to the Boat; but it was past all their Strength to launch her, the Boat being
               very heavy, and the Shore on that Side being a soft ousy Sand, almost like a
               Quick-Sand.</p>
            <p>In this Condition, like true Seamen who are perhaps the
               least of all Mankind given to fore-thought, they gave it over, and away they stroll'd
               about the Country again; and I heard one of them say aloud to another, calling them
               off from the Boat, <hi rend="italic">Why let her alone,</hi> Jack, <hi rend="italic">can't ye, she will float
                  next Tide</hi>; by which I was fully confirm'd in the main Enquiry, of what
               Countrymen they were.</p>
            <p>All this while I kept my self very close, not once daring to stir out of my Castle,
               any farther than to my Place of Observation, near the Top of the Hill; and very glad
               I was, to think how well it was fortify'd: I knew it was no
               less than ten Hours before the Boat could be on float again, and by that Time it
               would be dark, and I might be at more Liberty to see their Motions, and to hear their
               Discourse, if they had any.</p>
            <p>In the mean Time, I fitted my self up for a Battle, as
               before; though with more Caution, knowing I had to do with another kind of Enemy than
               I had at first: I order'd <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> also, who I had made an excellent Marks-Man
               with his Gun, to load himself with Arms: I took my self two
               Fowling-Pieces, and I gave him three Muskets; my Figure indeed was very fierce; I had
               my formidable Goat-Skin Coat on, with the great Cap I have mention'd, a naked Sword
               by my Side, two Pistols in my Belt, and a Gun upon each Shoulder.</p>
            <p>It was my Design, as I said above, not to have made any Attempt till it was Dark: But
               about Two a Clock, being the Heat of the Day, I found <pb n="301"/> that in short they were all gone straggling into the
               Woods, and as I thought were laid down to Sleep. The three poor distressed Men, too
               Anxious for their Condition to get any Sleep, were however set down under the Shelter
               of a great Tree, at about a quarter of a Mile from me, and
               as I thought out of sight of any of the rest.</p>
            <p>Upon this I resolv'd to discover my self to them, and learn something of their
               Condition: Immediately I march'd in the Figure as above, my Man <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> at a
               good Distance behind me, as formidable for his Arms as I,
               but not making quite so staring a <hi rend="italic">Spectre-like</hi> Figure as I did.</p>
            <p>I came as near them undiscover'd as I could, and then before any of them saw me, I
               call'd aloud to them in <hi rend="italic">Spanish, What are ye
                  Gentlemen?</hi>
            </p>
            <p>They started up at the Noise, but were ten times more confounded when they saw me,
               and the uncouth Figure that I made. They made no Answer at all, but I thought I
               perceiv'd them just going to fly from me, when I spoke to them in <hi rend="italic">English,</hi>
               Gentlemen, said I, do not be surpriz'd at me; perhaps you may have a Friend near you
               when you did not expect it. He must be sent directly from
               Heaven then, <hi rend="italic">said one of them very gravely to me, and pulling off his Hat at the
                  same time to me,</hi> for our Condition is past the Help of Man. All Help is from
               Heaven, <hi rend="italic">Sir, said I.</hi> But can you put a Stranger in the way how to help you,
               for you seem to me to be in some great Distress? I saw you when you landed, and when
               you seem'd to make Applications to the Brutes that came with you, I saw one of them
               lift up his Sword to kill you.</p>
            <p>The poor Man with Tears running down his Face, and trembling, looking like one
               astonish'd, return'd, <hi rend="italic">Am I talking to God, or Man! Is it a real <pb n="302"/> Man, or an Angel!</hi> Be in no fear about that,
               Sir, <hi rend="italic">said I,</hi> if God had sent an Angel to relieve you, he would have come
               better Cloath'd, and Arm'd after another manner than you see me in; pray lay aside
               your Fears, I am a Man, an <hi rend="italic">English-man,</hi> and dispos'd to assist you, you see; I have one Servant only; we have Arms and Ammunition;
               tell us freely, Can we serve you? — What is your Case?</p>
            <p>Our Case, said he, Sir, is too long to tell you, while our Murtherers are so near;
               but in short, Sir, I was Commander of that Ship, my Men have Mutinied against me;
               they have been hardly prevail'd on not to Murther me, and at
               last have set me on Shore in this desolate Place, with these two Men with me; one my
               Mate, the other a Passenger, where we expected to Perish,
                  believing the Place to be uninhabited, and know not yet
               what to think of it.</p>
            <p>Where are those Brutes, your Enemies, said I, do you know where they are gone?
                  <hi rend="italic">There they lye,</hi> Sir, said he, pointing to a Thicket of Trees; <hi rend="italic">my
                  Heart trembles, for fear they have seen us, and heard you speak, if they have,
                  they will certainly Murther us all.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>Have they any Fire-Arms, <hi rend="italic">said I,</hi> He answered they had only two Pieces, and
               one which they left in the Boat. Well then, said I, leave the rest to me; I see they
               are all asleep, it is an easie thing to kill them all; but shall we rather take them
               Prisoners? He told me there were two desperate Villains
               among them, that it was scarce safe to shew any Mercy to; but if they were secur'd, he believ'd all the rest would return to their Duty.
               I ask'd him, which they were? He told me he could not at that distance describe them;
               but he would obey my Orders in any thing <pb n="303"/> I
               would direct. Well, says I, let us retreat out of their View or Hearing, least they
               awake, and we will resolve further; so they willingly went back with me, till the
               Woods cover'd us from them.</p>
            <p>Look you, Sir, said I, if I venture upon your Deliverance, are you willing to make
               two Conditions with me; he anticipated my Proposals, by
               telling me, that both he and the Ship, if recover'd, should
               be wholly Directed and Commanded by me in every thing; and if the Ship was not
               recover'd, he would live and dye with me in what Part of the World soever I would
               send him; and the two other Men said the same.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Well,</hi> says I, <hi rend="italic">my Conditions are but two.</hi> 1. That while you stay on
               this Island with me, you will not pretend to any Authority here; and if I put Arms
               into your Hands, you will upon all Occasions give them up to me, and do no Prejudice
               to me or mine, upon this Island, and in the mean time be govern'd by my Orders.</p>
            <p>2. That if the Ship is, or may be recover'd, you will carry me and my Man to
                  <hi rend="italic">England</hi> Passage free.</p>
            <p>He gave me all the Assurances that the Invention and Faith of Man could devise, that
               he would comply with these most reasonable Demands, and besides would owe his Life to me, and acknowledge it upon all
               Occasions as long as he liv'd.</p>
            <p>Well then, <hi rend="italic">said I,</hi> here are three Muskets for you, with Powder and Ball;
               tell me next what you think is proper to be done. He shew'd all the Testimony of his
               Gratitude that he was able; but offer'd to be wholly guided by me. I told him I
               thought it was hard venturing any thing; but the best Method I could think of was to
               fire upon them at once, as they lay; and if any was not kill'd at the first Volley,
               and offered to submit, <pb n="304"/> we might save them,
               and so put it wholly upon God's Providence to direct the Shot.</p>
            <p>He said very modestly, that he was loath to kill them, if he could help it, but that
               those two were incorrigible Villains, and had been the Authors of all the Mutiny in the Ship, and if they escaped, we should be undone
               still; for they would go on Board, and bring the whole Ship's Company, and destroy us all. <hi rend="italic">Well then,</hi> says I,
                     <hi rend="italic">Necessity</hi> legitimates my Advice; for it is
               the only Way to save our Lives. However, seeing him still cautious of shedding Blood,
               I told him they should go themselves, and manage as they found convenient.</p>
            <p>In the Middle of this Discourse, we heard some of them awake, and soon after, we saw
               two of them on their Feet, I ask'd him, if either of them were of the Men who he had
               said were the Heads of the Mutiny? He said, <hi rend="italic">No</hi>: Well then, said I, you may
               let them escape, and Providence seems to have wakned them on Purpose to save
               themselves. Now, says I, if the rest escape you, <hi rend="italic">it is your Fault.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>Animated with this, he took the Musket, I had given him, in his Hand, and a Pistol in
               his Belt, and his two Comerades with him, with each Man a Piece in his Hand, The two
               Men who were with him, going first, made some Noise, at which one of the Seamen who
               was awake, turn'd about, and seeing them coming, cry'd out to the rest; but it was
               too late then; for the Moment he cry'd out, they fir'd; <hi rend="italic">I mean the two Men,</hi>
               the Captain wisely reserving his own Piece: They had so well aim'd their Shot at the
               Men they knew, that one of them was kill'd on the Spot, and the other very much
               wounded; but not being dead, he started up upon his Feet, and call'd eagerly for <pb n="305"/> help to the other; but the Captain stepping to
               him told him, 'twas too late to cry for help, he should call upon God to forgive his
               Villany, and with that Word knock'd him down with the Stock of his Musket, so that he never spoke more: There were three more in
               the Company, and one of them was also slightly wounded: By this Time I was come, and
               when they saw their Danger, and that it was in vain to resist, they begg'd for Mercy:
               The Captain told them, he would spare their Lives, if they would give him any
               Assurance of their Abhorrence of the Treachery they had been guilty of, and would
               swear to be faithful to him in recovering the Ship, and afterwards in carrying her
               back to <hi rend="italic">Jamaica</hi> from whence they came: They gave him all the Protestations
               of their Sincerity that could be desir'd, and he was willing to believe them, and
               spare their Lives, which I was not against, only that I oblig'd him to keep them
               bound Hand and Foot while they were upon the Island.</p>
            <p>While this was doing, I sent <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> with the Captain's Mate to the Boat,
               with Orders to secure her, and bring away the Oars, and Sail, which they did; and by
               and by, three straggling Men that were (happily for them) parted from the rest came
               back upon hearing the Guns fir'd, and seeing their Captain, who before was their
               Prisoner, now their Conqueror, they submitted to be bound also; and so our Victory
               was compleat.</p>
            <p>It now remain'd, that the Captain and I should enquire into one another's
               Circumstances: I began first, and told him my whole History, which he heard with an
               Attention even to Amazement; and particularly, at the wonderful Manner of my being
               furnish'd with Provisitions and Ammunition; and indeed, as my Story is a whole
               Collection of Wonders, it affected him deeply; but when he
               reflected <pb n="306"/> from thence upon himself, and how I
               seem'd to have been preserv'd there, on purpose to save his Life, the Tears ran down
               his Face, and he could not speak a Word more.</p>
            <p>After this Communication was at an End, I carry'd him and
               his two Men into my Apartment, leading them in, just where I came out, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi>
               At the Top of the House, where I refresh'd them with such Provisions as I had, and
               shew'd them all the Contrivances I had made, during my long, long, inhabiting that
               Place.</p>
            <p>All I shew'd them, all I said to them, was perfectly
               amazing; but above all, the Captain admir'd my Fortification, and how perfectly I had
               conceal'd my Retreat with a Grove of Trees, which having been now planted near twenty
               Years, and the Trees growing much faster than in <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> was become a
               little Wood, and so thick, that it was unpassable in any Part of it, but at that one
               Side, where I had reserv'd my little winding Passage into it: I told him, this was my
               Castle, and my Residence; but that I had a Seat in the Country, as most Princes have, whither I could retreat upon Occasion, and I would
               shew him that too another Time; but at present, our Business was to consider how to
               recover the Ship: He agreed with me as to that; but told me, he was perfectly at a
               Loss what Measures to take; for that there were still six
               and twenty Hands on board, who having entred into a cursed Conspiracy, by which they
               had all forfeited their Lives to the Law, would be harden'd in it now by Desperation;
               and would carry it on, knowing that if they were reduc'd, they should be brought to
               the Gallows, as soon as they came to <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> or to any of the
                  <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Colonies; and that therefore there would be no attacking them,
               with so small a Number as we were.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="307"/>I mus'd for some Time upon what he had said,
               and found it was a very rational Conclusion; and that therefore something was to be
               resolv'd on very speedily, as well to draw the Men on board
                  into some Snare for their Surprize, as to prevent their
               Landing upon us, and destroying us; upon this it presently occurr'd to me, that in a
               little while the Ship's Crew wondring what was become of their Comrades, and of the
               Boat, would certainly come on Shore in their other Boat, to see for them, and that
               then perhaps they might come arm'd, and be too strong for us; this he allow'd was
               rational.</p>
            <p>Upon this, I told him the first Thing we had to do, was to <ref target="stave2_" corresp="stave2">stave</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="stave2" target="stave2_">Break up, dismantle. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note> the
               Boat, which lay upon the Beach, so that they might not carry her off; and taking
               every Thing out of her, leave her so far useless as not to be fit to swim;
               accordingly we went on board, took the Arms which were left on board, out of her, and
               whatever else we found there, which was a Bottle of Brandy, and another of Rum, a few
               Bisket Cakes, a Horn of Powder, and a great Lump of Sugar, in a Piece of Canvas; the
               Sugar was five or six Pounds, all which was very welcome to
               me, especially the Brandy, and Sugar, of which I had had none left for many
               Years.</p>
            <p>When we had carry'd all these Things on Shore (the Oars, Mast, Sail, and Rudder of
               the Boat, were carry'd away before, as above) we knock'd a great Hole in her Bottom,
               that if they had come strong enough to master us, yet they could not carry off the Boat.</p>
            <p>Indeed, it was not much in my Thoughts, that we could be able to recover the Ship;
               but my View was that if they went away without the Boat, I did not much question to
               make her fit again, to carry us away to the <ref target="leeward_" corresp="leeward">
                                <hi rend="italic">Leeward</hi> Islands</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="leeward" target="leeward_">A cluster of small islands east of Puerto Rico,
                  including the modern US and British Virgin Islands and Guadeloupe. Source:
                  Wikipedia</note>, and call upon our <pb n="308"/>
               Friends, the <hi rend="italic">Spaniards,</hi> in my Way, for I had them still in my Thoughts.</p>
            <head> <ref target="Audio20_" corresp="Audio20">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio20" target="Audio20_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_20_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            <p>While we were thus preparing our Designs, and had first, by main Strength heav'd the
               Boat up upon the Beach, so high that the Tide would not
               fleet her off at High-Water-Mark; and besides, had broke a Hole in her Bottom, too
               big to be quickly stopp'd, and were sat down musing what we should do; we heard the
               Ship fire a Gun, and saw her <ref target="waft_" corresp="waft">make a Waft with her
                  Antient</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="waft" target="waft_">Hoist a particular flag up the mast to signal the boat to return. Source: Oxford
                  English Dictionary</note>, as a Signal for the Boat to come on board; but no Boat
               stirr'd; and they fir'd several Times, making other Signals for the Boat.</p>
            <p>At last, when all their Signals and Firings prov'd fruitless, and they found the Boat
               did not stir, we saw them by the Help of my Glasses, hoist another Boat out, and row
               towards the Shore; and we found as they approach'd, that there was no less than ten
               Men in her, and that they had Fire-Arms with them.</p>
            <p>As the Ship lay almost two Leagues from the Shore, we had a full View of them as they
               came, and a plain Sight of the Men even of their Faces,
               because the Tide having set them a little to the <hi rend="italic">East</hi> of the other Boat,
               they row'd up under Shore, to come to the same Place, where the other had landed, and where the Boat lay.</p>
            <p>By this Means, I say, we had a full View of them, and the Captain knew the Persons
               and Characters of all the Men in the Boat, of whom he said,
               that there were three very honest Fellows, who he was sure were led into this
               Conspiracy by the rest, being over-power'd and frighted.</p>
            <p>But that as for the Boatswain, who it seems was the chief Officer among them, and all
               the rest, they were as outragious as any of the Ship's Crew, and were no doubt made
               desperate in their new Enterprize, <pb n="309"/> and terribly apprehensive he was, that they would be
               too powerful for us.</p>
            <p>I smil'd at him, and told him, that Men in our Circumstances were past the Operation
               of Fear: That seeing almost every Condition that could be, was better than that which
               we were suppos'd to be in, we ought to expect that the Consequence, whether Death or Life, would be sure to be a Deliverance: I ask'd him, What he thought of the Circumstances of my Life? And, Whether a Deliveance were not worth venturing for? And where, Sir, said I,
               is your Belief of my being preserv'd here on purpose to save your Life, which
               elevated you a little while ago? For my Part, said I, there seems to be but one Thing
               amiss in all the Prospect of it; <hi rend="italic">What's that?</hi> Says he; why, said I, 'Tis,
               that as you say, there are three or four honest Fellows among them, which should be
               spar'd; had they been all of the wicked Part of the Crew, I should have thought God's
               Providence had singled them out to deliver them into your Hands; for depend upon it,
               every Man of them that comes a-shore are our own, and shall die, or live, as they
               behave to us.</p>
            <p>As I spoke this with a rais'd Voice and chearful Countenance, I found it greatly
               encourag'd him; so we set vigorously to our Business: We had upon the first
               Appearance of the Boat's coming from the Ship, consider'd of separating our
               Prisoners, and had indeed secur'd them effectually.</p>
            <p>Two of them, of whom the Captain was less assur'd than
               ordinary, I sent with <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> and one of the three (deliver'd Men) to my
               Cave, where they were remote enough, and out of Danger of being heard or discover'd,
               or of finding their way out of the Woods, if they could have deliver'd themselves:
               Here they left them bound, but gave them Provisions, and
               promis'd them if they continu'd there quietly, <pb n="310"/> to give them their Liberty in a Day or two; but that
               if they attempted their Escape, they should be put to Death without Mercy: They
               promis'd faithfully to bear their Confinement with Patience, and were very thankful
               that they had such good Usage, as to have Provisions, and a
               Light left them; for <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> gave them Candles (such as we made our selves)
               for their Comfort; and they did not know but that he stood Sentinel over them at the
                  Entrance.</p>
            <p>The other Prisoners had better Usage; two of them were kept pinion'd indeed, because
               the Captain was not free to trust them; but the other two
               were taken into my Service upon their Captain's Recommendation, and upon their solemnly engaging to live and die with us; so with
               them and the three honest Men, we were seven Men, well arm'd; and I made no doubt we
               shou'd be able to deal well enough with the Ten that were a
               coming, considering that the Captain had said, there were
               three or four honest Men among them also.</p>
            <p>As soon as they got to the Place where their other Boat lay,
               they run their Boat in to the Beach, and came all on Shore, haling the Boat up after
               them, which I was glad to see; for I was afraid they would rather have left the Boat
               at an Anchor, some Distance from the Shore, with some Hands in her, to guard her; and
               so we should not be able to seize the Boat.</p>
            <p>Being on Shore, the first Thing they did, they ran all to their other Boat, and it
               was easy to see that they were under a great Surprize, to find her stripp'd as above,
               of all that was in her, and a great hole in her Bottom.</p>
            <p>After they had mus'd a while upon this, they set up two or three great Shouts, <ref target="hallo_" corresp="hallo">hollowing</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="hallo" target="hallo_">Halloaing, calling.
                  Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note> with all their might, to try if they
               could make their <pb n="311"/> Companions hear; but all was
               to no purpose: Then they came all close in a Ring, and fir'd a Volley of their small
               Arms, which indeed we heard, and the Ecchos made the Woods ring; but <ref target="allone_" corresp="allone">it was all one</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="allone" target="allone_">Phrase indicating
                  that "It was no use." Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note>, those in the Cave
               we were sure could not hear, and those in our keeping, though they heard it well enough, yet durst give no Answer to them.</p>
            <p>They were so astonish'd at the Surprize of this, that as they told us afterwards,
               they resolv'd to go all on board again to their Ship, and let them know, that the Men
               were all murther'd, and the Long-Boat stav'd; accordingly they immediately launch'd
               their Boat again, and gat all of them on board.</p>
            <p>The Captain was terribly amaz'd, and even confounded at
               this, believing they would go on board the Ship again, and set Sail, giving their
               Comrades for lost, and so he should still lose the Ship, which he was in Hopes we
               should have recover'd; but he was quickly as much frighted the other way.</p>
            <p>They had not been long put off with the Boat, but we perceiv'd them all coming on
               Shore again; but with this new Measure in their Conduct, which it seems they
               consulted together upon, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> To leave three Men in the Boat, and the rest
               to go on Shore, and go up into the Country to look for their Fellows.</p>
            <p>This was a great Disappointment to us; for now we were at a Loss what to do; for our
               seizing those seven Men on Shore would be no Advantage to us, if we let the Boat
               escape; because they would then row away to the Ship, and then the rest of them would
               be sure to weigh and set Sail, and so our recovering the Ship would be lost.</p>
            <p>However, we had no Remedy, but to wait and see what the Issue of Things might
               present; the seven Men came on Shore, and the three who remain'd <pb n="312"/> in the Boat, put her off to a good
               Distance from the Shore, and came to an Anchor to wait for them; so that it was
               impossible for us to come at them in the Boat.</p>
            <p>Those that came on Shore, kept close together, marching towards the Top of the little
               Hill, under which my Habitation lay; and we could see them plainly, though they could
               not perceive us: We could have been very glad they would have come nearer to us, so
               that we might have fir'd at them, or that they would have gone farther off, that we
               might have come abroad.</p>
            <p>But when they were come to the <ref target="brow_" corresp="brow">Brow</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="brow" target="brow_">Crest. Source: Oxford
                  English Dictionary</note> of the Hill, where they could see a great way into the
               Valleys and Woods, which lay towards the <hi rend="italic">North-East</hi> Part, and where the
               Island lay lowest, they shouted, and hollow'd, till they were weary; and not caring
               it seems to venture far from the Shore, nor far from one another, they sat down
               together under a Tree, to consider of it: Had they thought fit to have gone to sleep
               there, as the other Party of them had done, <ref target="would3_" corresp="would3">they had</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="would3" target="would3_">'Would have.' Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note> done the
               Jobb for us; but they were too full of Apprehensions of Danger, to venture to go to
               sleep, though they could not tell what the Danger was they had to fear neither.</p>
            <p>The Captain made a very just Proposal to me, upon this Consultation of theirs,
                  <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> That perhaps they would all fire a Volley
               again, to endeavour to make their Fellows hear, and that we
               should all Sally upon them, just at the Juncture when their Pieces were all
               discharg'd, and they would certainly yield, and we should have them without
               Blood-shed: I lik'd the Proposal, provided it was done while we were near enough to
               come up to them, before they could load their Pieces again.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="313"/>But this Event did not happen, and we lay
               still a long Time, very irresolute what Course to take; at length I told them, there
               would be nothing to be done in my Opinion till Night, and then if they did not return
               to the Boat, perhaps we might find a way to get between them, and the Shore, and so
               might use some Stratagem with them in the Boat, to get them on Shore.</p>
            <p>We waited a great while, though very impatient for their removing; and were very
               uneasy, when after long Consultations, we saw them start all up, and march down
               toward the Sea: It seems they had such dreadful Apprehensions upon them, of the
               Danger of the Place, that they resolv'd to go on board the Ship again, give their
               Companions over for lost, and so go on with their intended
                  Voyage with the Ship.</p>
            <p>As soon as I perceiv'd them go towards the Shore, I imagin'd it to be as it really
               was, That they had given over their Search, and were for going back again; and the
               Captain, as soon as I told him my Thoughts, was ready to sink at the Apprehensions of
               it; but I presently thought of a Stratagem to fetch them back again, and which
               answer'd my End to a Tittle.</p>
            <p>I order'd <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> and the Captain's Mate, to go over the little Creek
                  <hi rend="italic">Westward,</hi> towards the Place were the <hi rend="italic">Savages</hi> came on Shore, when
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> was rescu'd; and as soon as they came to a little rising Ground,
               at about half a Mile Distance, I bad them hollow, as loud as they could, and wait
               till they found the Seamen heard them; that as soon as ever they heard the Seamen
               answer them, they should return it again, and then keeping out of Sight, take a
               round, always answering when the other hollow'd, to draw them as far into the Island,
               and among the <pb n="314"/> Woods, as possible, and then
               wheel about again to me, by such ways as I directed them.</p>
            <p>They were just going into the Boat, when <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> and the Mate hollow'd, and
               they presently heard them, and answering, run along the Shore <hi rend="italic">Westward,</hi> towards the Voice they heard, when they were
               presently stopp'd by the Creek, where the Water being up, they could not get over,
               and call'd for the Boat to come up, and <ref target="setover_" corresp="setover">set
                  them over</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="setover" target="setover_">Transport them inland, closer to the voices.</note>, as indeed I
               expected.</p>
            <p>When they had set themselves over, I observ'd, that the Boat being gone up a good way
               into the Creek, and as it were, in a Harbour within the Land, they took one of the
               three Men out of her to go along with them, and left only two in the Boat, having
               fastned her to the Stump of a little Tree on the Shore.</p>
            <p>This was what I wish'd for, and immediately leaving
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> and the Captain's Mate to their Business, I took the rest with me,
               and crossing the Creek out of their Sight, we surpriz'd the two Men before they were
               aware; one of them lying on Shore, and the other being in the Boat; the Fellow on
               Shore, was between sleeping and waking, and going to start up, the Captain who was
               foremost, ran in upon him, and knock'd him down, and then call'd out to him in the
               Boat, to yield, or he was a dead Man.</p>
            <p>There needed very few Arguments to perswade a single Man to yield, when he saw five
               Men upon him, and his Comrade knock'd down; besides, this was it seems one of the
               three who were not so hearty in the Mutiny as the rest of the Crew, and therefore was
               easily perswaded, not only to yield, but afterwards to joyn
               very sincere with us.</p>
            <p>In the mean time, <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> and the Captain's Mate so well manag'd their
               Business with the rest, that they drew them by hollowing and answering, from <pb n="315"/> one Hill to another, and from one Wood to
                  another, till they not only heartily tyr'd them, but left
               them, where they were very sure they could not reach back to the Boat, before it was
               dark; and indeed they were heartily tyr'd themselves also by the Time they came back
               to us.</p>
            <p>We had nothing now to do, but to watch for them, in the Dark, and to fall upon them,
               so as to make sure work with them.</p>
            <p>It was several Hours after <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> came back to me, before they came back to
               their Boat; and we could hear the foremost of them long before they came quite up,
               calling to those behind to come along, and could also hear them answer and complain,
               how lame and tyr'd they were, and not able to come any faster, which was very welcome
               News to us.</p>
            <p>At length they came up to the Boat; but 'tis impossible to express their Confusion,
               when they found the Boat fast a-Ground in the Creek, the Tide ebb'd out, and their
               two Men gone: We could hear them call to one another in a most lamentable Manner, telling one another, they were gotten into
               an inchanted Island; that either there were Inhabitants in it, and they should all be
                  murther'd, or else there were Devils and Spirits in it,
               and they should be all carry'd away, and devour'd.</p>
            <p>They hallow'd again, and call'd their two Comerades by their
               Names, a great many times, but no Answer. After some time, we could see them, by the
               little Light there was, run about wringing their Hands like Men in Despair; and that
               sometimes they would go and sit down in the Boat to rest themselves, then come ashore
               again, and walk about again, and so over the same thing again.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="316"/>My Men would fain have me given them Leave to
               fall upon them at once in the Dark; but I was willing to take them at some Advantage,
               so to spare them, and kill as few of them as I could; and especially I was unwilling
               to hazard the killing any of our own Men, knowing the other were very well armed. I resolved to wait to see if they did not
               separate; and therefore to make sure of them, I drew my Ambuscade nearer, and order'd
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> and the Captain, to creep upon their Hands and Feet as close to
               the Ground as they could, that they might not be discover'd, and get as near them as
               they could possibly, before they offered to fire.</p>
            <p>They had not been long in that Posture, but that the Boatswain, who was the principal
               Ringleader of the Mutiny, and had now shewn himself the most dejected and dispirited
               of all the rest, came walking towards them with two more of their Crew; the Captain
               was so eager, as having this principal Rogue so much in his Power, that he could
               hardly have Patience to let him come so near, as to be sure of him; for they only
               heard his Tongue before: But when they came nearer, the Captain and <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi>
               starting up on their Feet, let fly at them.</p>
            <p>The Boatswain was kill'd upon the Spot, the next Man was shot into the Body, and fell
               just by him, tho' he did not die 'till an Hour or two after; and the third run for
               it.</p>
            <p>At the Noise of the Fire, I immediately advanc'd with my
               whole Army, which was now 8 Men, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> my self <hi rend="italic">Generalissimo, Friday</hi>
               my Lieutenant-General, the Captain and his two Men, and the
               three Prisoners of War, who we had trusted with Arms.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="317"/>We came upon them indeed in the Dark, so that
               they could not see our Number; and I made the Man we had left in the Boat, who was
               now one of us, call to them by Name, to try if I could bring them to a Parley, and so
               might perhaps reduce them to Terms, which fell out just as
               we desir'd: for indeed it was easy to think, as their
               Condition then was, they would be very willing to capitulate; so he calls out as loud
               as he could, to one of them, <hi rend="italic">Tom Smith, Tom Smith; Tom Smith</hi> answered
               immediately, <hi rend="italic">Who's that,</hi> Robinson? for it seems he knew his Voice: T'other
               answered, <hi rend="italic">Ay, ay; for God's Sake,</hi> Tom Smith, <hi rend="italic">throw down your Arms, and
                  yield,</hi> or, <hi rend="italic">you are all dead Men this Moment.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Who must we yield to? where are they</hi>? (says <hi rend="italic">Smith</hi> again;) <hi rend="italic">Here
                  they are,</hi> says he, here's our Captain, and fifty Men with him, have been
               hunting you this two Hours; the Boatswain is kill'd, <hi rend="italic">Will Frye</hi> is wounded,
               and I am a Prisoner; and if you do not yield, you are all lost.</p>
            <p>Will they give us Quarter then, (says <hi rend="italic">Tom Smith</hi>) and we will yield? <hi rend="italic">I'll
                  go and ask, if you promise to yield,</hi> says
                  <hi rend="italic">Robinson</hi>; so he ask'd the Captain, and the Captain then calls himself
               out, You <hi rend="italic">Smith,</hi> you know my Voice, if you lay down your Arms immediately,
               and submit, you shall have your Lives all but <hi rend="italic">Will Atkins.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>Upon this, <hi rend="italic">Will Atkins</hi> cry'd out, <hi rend="italic">For God's Sake, Captain, give me
                  Quarter, what have I done? They have been all as bad as I,</hi> which by the Way
               was not true neither; for it seems this <hi rend="italic">Will Atkins</hi> was the first Man that
               laid hold of the Captain, when they first mutiny'd, and used him barbarously, in
               tying his Hands, and giving him injurious Language. However, the Captain told him he
               must lay down his Arms at Discretion, and trust to the Governour's <pb n="318"/> Mercy, by which he meant me; for
               they all call'd me Governour.</p>
            <p>
                            <ref target="army_" corresp="army">In a Word, they all laid down their Arms, and
                  begg'd their Lives; and I sent the Man that had parley'd with them, and two more,
                  who bound them all; and then my great Army of 50 Men</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="army" target="army_">Crusoe gets comically
                  carried away playing the "Governour"; his imaginary army of fifty frightens the
                  captives into submission.</note>, which particularly with those three, were all
               but eight, came up and seiz'd upon them all, and upon their Boat, only that I kept my
               self and one more out of Sight, for Reasons of State.</p>
            <p>Our next Work was to repair the Boat, and think of seizing the Ship; and as for the
               Captain, now he had Leisure to parley with them: He expostulated with them upon the Villany of their Practices
               with him, and at length upon the farther Wickedness of their Design; and how
               certainly it must bring them to Misery and Distress in the End, and perhaps to the
               Gallows.</p>
            <p>They all appear'd very penitent, and begg'd hard for their Lives; as for that, he
               told them, they were none of his Prisoners, but the Commander of the Island, that
               they thought they had set him on Shore in a barren uninhabitated Island, but it had
               pleased God so to direct them, that the Island was inhabited, and that the Governour
               was an <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Man; that he might hang them all there, if he pleased; but as
               he had given them all Quarter, he supposed he would send them to <hi rend="italic">England</hi> to
               be dealt with there, as Justice requir'd, except <hi rend="italic">Atkins,</hi> who he was commanded by the Governour to advise to prepare for Death;
               for that he would be hang'd in the Morning.</p>
            <p>Though this was all a Fiction of his own, yet it had its desired Effect;
                  <hi rend="italic">Atkins</hi> fell upon his Knees to beg the Captain to interceed with the
                  Governour for his Life; and all the rest beg'd of him <pb n="319"/> for God's Sake, that they might not be sent to
                  <hi rend="italic">England.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>It now occurr'd to me, that the time of our Deliverance was
               come, and that it would be a most easy thing to bring these Fellows in, to be hearty
               in getting Possession of the Ship; so I retir'd in the Dark from them, that they
               might not see what Kind of a Governour they had, and call'd the Captain to me; when I
               call'd, as at a good Distance, one of the Men was order'd to
               speak again, and say to the Captain, <hi rend="italic">Captain, the Commander calls for you</hi>;
               and presently the Captain reply'd, <hi rend="italic">Tell his Excellency, I am just a coming</hi>:
               This more perfectly amused them; and they all believed that
               the Commander was just by with his fifty Men.</p>
            <p>Upon the Captain's coming to me, I told him my Project for seizing the Ship, which he
               lik'd of wonderfully well, and resolv'd to put it in Execution the next Morning.</p>
            <p>But in Order to execute it with more Art, and secure of Success, I told him, we must
               divide the Prisoners, and that he should go and take <hi rend="italic">Atkins</hi> and two more of
               the worst of them, and send them pinion'd to the Cave where the others lay: This was
               committed to <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> and the two Men who came on Shore with the Captain.</p>
            <p>They convey'd them to the Cave, as to a Prison; and it was
               indeed a dismal Place, especially to Men in their Condition.</p>
            <p>The other I order'd to my <hi rend="italic">Bower,</hi> as I call'd it, of which I have given a
               full Description; and as it was fenc'd in, and they
               pinion'd, the Place was secure enough, considering they were <ref target="behavior_" corresp="behavior">upon their Behaviour</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="behavior" target="behavior_">'On their best behavior.'</note>. </p>
            <p>To these in the Morning I sent the Captain, who was to enter into a Parley with them,
               in a Word to try them, and tell me, whether he thought they <pb n="320"/> might be trusted or no, to go on Board and surprize
               the Ship. He talk'd to them of the Injury done him, of the Condition they were
               brought to; and that though the Governour had given them Quarter for their Lives, as
               to the present Action, yet that if they were sent to <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> they would all
               be hang'd in Chains, to be sure; but that if they would join in so just an Attempt,
               as to recover the Ship, he would have the Governour's Engagement for their Pardon.</p>
            <p>Any one may guess how readily such a Proposal would be
               accepted by Men in their Condition; they fell down on their Knees to the Captain, and
               promised with the deepest Imprecations, that they would be faithful to him to the
               last Drop, and that they should owe their Lives to him, and would go with him all
               over the World, that they would own him for a Father to them as long as they
               liv'd.</p>
            <p>Well, says the Captain, I must go and tell the Governour what you say, and see what I
               can do to bring him to consent to it: So he brought me an Account of the Temper he
               found them in; and that he verily believ'd they would be faithful.</p>
            <p>
                            <ref target="governor_" corresp="governor">However, that we might be very secure, I
                  told him he should go back again, and choose out five of them, and tell them, they
                  might see that he did not want Men</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="governor" target="governor_">Crusoe's ostensible willingness to kill five
                  hostages is meant to show the captives that he does not lack manpower, since five
                  men are of so little value to him. This enhances the fiction of Crusoe as the
                  powerful "Governour."</note>, that he would take out five of them to be his
               Assistants, and that the Governour would keep the other two, and the three that were
               sent Prisoners to the Castle, (<hi rend="italic">my Cave</hi>) as Hostages, for the Fidelity of
               those five; and that if they prov'd unfaithful in the Execution, the five Hostages
               should be hang'd in Chains alive upon the Shore.</p>
            <p>This look'd severe, and convinc'd them that the Governour was in Earnest; however
               they had no <pb n="321"/> Way left them, but to accept it;
               and it was now the Business of the Prisoners, as much as of the Captain, to perswade
               the other five to do their Duty</p>
            <p>Our Strength was now thus ordered for the Expedition: 1. The
               Captain, his Mate, and Passenger. 2. Then the two Prisoners
               of the first Gang, to whom having their Characters from the Captain, I had given their Liberty, and trusted them with Arms.
               3. The other two who I had kept till now, in my Apartment, pinion'd; but upon the
               Captain's Motion, had now releas'd. 4. The single Man taken in the Boat. 5. These
               five releas'd at last: So that they were thirteen in all,
               besides five we kept Prisoners in the Cave, and the two Hostages.</p>
            <p>I ask'd the Captain, if he was willing to venture with these
               Hands on Board the Ship; for as for me and my Man <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> I did not think it
               was proper for us to stir, having seven Men left behind; and it was Employment enough
               for us to keep them assunder, and supply them with Victuals.</p>
            <p>As to the five in the Cave, I resolv'd to keep them fast, but <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> went in
               twice a Day to them, to supply them with Necessaries; and I made the other two carry
               Provisions to a certain Distance, where <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> was to take it.</p>
            <p>When I shew'd my self to the two Hostages, it was with the Captain, who told them, I
               was the Person the Governour had order'd to look after them, and that it was the
               Governour's Pleasure they should not stir any where, but by my Direction; that if they did, they should be fetch'd into the Castle, and be lay'd in Irons; so that as we never
               suffered them to see me as Governour, so I now appear'd as another Person, and spoke
               of the <pb n="322"/> Governour, the Garrison, the Castle,
               and the like, upon all Occasions.</p>
            <p>The Captain now had no Difficulty before him, but to furnish his two Boats, stop the
               Breach of one, and Man them. He made his Passenger Captain of one, with four other
               Men; and himself, and his Mate, and six more, went in the
                  other: And they contriv'd their Business very well; for
               they came up to the Ship about Midnight: As soon as they came within Call of the
               Ship, he made <hi rend="italic">Robinson</hi> hale them, and tell them they had brought off the Men
               and the Boat, but that it was a long time before they had found them, and the like;
               holding them in a Chat 'till they came to the Ship's Side; when the Captain and the
               Mate entring first with their Arms, immediately knock'd down the second Mate and
               Carpenter, with the But-end of their Muskets, being very faithfully seconded by their
               Men, they secur'd all the rest that were upon the Main and Quarter Decks, and began
               to fasten the Hatches to keep them down who were below, when the other Boat and their
               Men entring at the fore Chains, secur'd the Fore-Castle of the Ship, and the Scuttle
               which went down into the Cook Room, making three Men they found there, Prisoners.</p>
            <p>When this was done, and all safe upon Deck, the Captain order'd the Mate with three
               Men to break into the <ref target="roundhouse_" corresp="roundhouse">Round-House</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="roundhouse" target="roundhouse_">The uppermost cabin in the stern of the ship. Source: Oxford
                  English Dictionary</note> where the new Rebel Captain
               lay, and having taken the Alarm, was gotten up, and with two Men and a Boy had gotten
               Fire Arms in their Hands, and when the Mate with a Crow split open the Door, the new
               Captain and his Men fir'd boldly among them, and wounded the Mate with a Musket Ball,
               which broke his Arm, and wounded two more of the Men but kill'd no Body.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="323"/>The Mate calling for Help, rush'd however into the Round-House, wounded as he was, and with his Pistol
               shot the new Captain thro' the Head, the Bullet entring at his Mouth, and came out
               again behind one of his Ears; so that he never spoke a Word; upon which the rest
               yielded, and the Ship was taken effectually, without any more Lives lost.</p>
            <p>As soon as the Ship was thus secur'd, the Captain order'd
               seven Guns to be fir'd, which was the Signal agreed upon with me, to give me Notice
               of his Success, which you may be sure I was very glad to hear, having sat watching
               upon the Shore for it till near two of the Clock in the Morning.</p>
            <p>Having thus heard the Signal plainly, I laid me down; and it having been a Day of
               great Fatigue to me, I slept very sound, 'till I was something surpriz'd with the Noise of a Gun; and presently starting up, I
               heard a Man call me by the Name of Governour, Governour, and presently I knew the
               Captain's Voice, when climbing up to the Top of the Hill, there he stood, and
               pointing to the Ship, he embrac'd me in his Arms, <hi rend="italic">My dear Friend and
                  Deliverer,</hi> says he, <hi rend="italic">there's your Ship, for she is all yours, and so are
                  we and all that belong to her.</hi> I cast my Eyes to the Ship, and there she rode
               within little more than half a Mile of the Shore; for they had weighed her Anchor as soon as they were Masters of her; and the
               Weather being fair, had brought her to an Anchor just against the Mouth of the little
               Creek; and the Tide being up, the Captain had brought the Pinnace in near the Place
               where I at first landed my Rafts, and so landed just at my Door.</p>
            <p>I was at first ready to sink down with the Surprize. For I
               saw my Deliverance indeed visibly put into my Hands, all things easy, and a large
               Ship just ready to carry me away whither I pleased <pb n="324"/> to go. At first, for some time, I was not able
               to answer him one Word; but as he had taken me in his Arms, I held fast by him, or I
               should have fallen to the Ground.</p>
            <p>He perceived the Surprize, and immediately pulls a Bottle out of his Pocket, and gave
               me a Dram of Cordial, which he had brought on Purpose for
               me; after I had drank it, I sat down upon the Ground; and
               though it brought me to my self, yet it was a good while before I could speak a Word
               to him.</p>
            <p>All this while the poor Man was in as great an Extasy as I, only not under any
               Surprize, as I was; and he said a thousand kind tender things to me, to compose me
               and bring me to my self; but such was the Flood of Joy in my Breast, that it put all
               my Spirits into Confusion, at last it broke out into Tears, and in a little while
               after, I recovered my Speech.</p>
            <p>Then I took my Turn, and embrac'd him as my Deliverer; and we rejoyc'd together. I
               told him, I look upon him as a Man sent from Heaven to deliver me, and that the whole
               Transaction seemed to be a Chain of Wonders; that such things as these were the
               Testimonies we had of a secret Hand of Providence governing the World, and an
               Evidence, that the Eyes of an infinite Power could search into the remotest Corner of
               the World, and send Help to the Miserable whenever he pleased.</p>
            <p>I forgot not to lift up my Heart in Thankfulness to Heaven,
               and what Heart could forbear to bless him, who had not only in a miraculous Manner provided for once in such a Wilderness, and in such a
               desolate Condition, but from whom every Deliverance must always be acknowledged to
                  proceed.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="325"/>When we had talk'd a while, the Captain told
               me, he had brought me some little Refreshment, such as the Ship afforded, and such as
               the Wretches that had been so long his Master had not plunder'd him of: Upon this he
               call'd aloud to the Boat, and bid his Men bring the things ashore that were for the
               Governour; and indeed it was a Present, as if I had been one not that was to be
               carry'd away along with them, but as if I had been to dwell upon the Island still,
               and they were to go without me.</p>
            <p>First he had brought me a Case of Bottles full of excellent Cordial Waters, six large
               Bottles of <hi rend="italic">Madera</hi> Wine; the Bottles held two Quarts a-piece; two Pound of
               excellent good Tobacco, twelve good Pieces of the Ship's Beef, and six Pieces of
               Pork, with a Bag of Pease, and about a hundred Weight of Bisket.</p>
            <p>He brought me also a Box of Sugar, a Box of Flower, a Bag full of Lemons, and two
               Bottles of Lime-Juice, and Abundance of other things: But besides these, and what was
               a thousand times more useful to me, he brought me six clean new Shirts, six very good
               Neckcloaths, two Pair of Gloves, one Pair of Shoes, a Hat, and one Pair of Stockings,
               and a very good Suit of Cloaths of his own, which had been worn but very little: In a
               Word, he cloathed me from Head to Foot.</p>
            <p>It was a very kind and agreeable Present, as any one may imagine to one in my
               Circumstances: But never was any thing in the World of that Kind so unpleasant,
               awkard, and uneasy, as it was to me to wear such Cloaths at their first putting
               on.</p>
            <p>After these Ceremonies past, and after all his good things were brought into my
               little Apartment, we began to consult what was to be done
               with the Prisoners we had; for it was worth considering, <pb n="326"/> whether we might venture to take them away with us or no, especially two of them, who we knew to be
               incorrigible and refractory to the last Degree; and the Captain said, he knew they
               were such Rogues, that there was no obliging them, and if he did carry them away, it
               must be in Irons, as Malefactors to be delivered over to Justice at the first <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Colony he could come at; and I found that the
               Captain himself was very anxious about it.</p>
            <p>Upon this, I told him, that if he desir'd it, I durst undertake to bring the two Men
               he spoke of, to make it their own Request that he should leave them upon the Island:
                  <hi rend="italic">I should be very glad of that,</hi> says the Captain, <hi rend="italic">with all my
                  Heart.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>Well, says I, I will send for them up, and talk with them for you; so I caused
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> and the two Hostages, for they were now discharg'd, their Comrades having perform'd their Promise; I say, I caused them to go to the Cave, and bring up the five Men
               pinion'd, as they were, to the Bower, and keep them there 'till I came.</p>
            <p>After some time, I came thither dress'd in my new Habit, and now I was call'd
               Governour again; being all met, and the Captain with me, I caused the Men to be
               brought before me, and I told them, I had had a full Account of their villanous
                  Behaviour to the Captain, and how they had run away with
               the Ship, and were preparing to commit farther Robberies, but that Providence had
                  ensnar'd them in their own Ways, and that they were
               fallen into the Pit which they had digged for others.</p>
            <p>I let them know, that by my Direction the Ship had been seiz'd, that she lay now in
               the Road; and they might see by and by, that their new Captain <pb n="327"/> had receiv'd the Reward of his Villany; for that they
               might see him <ref target="yardarm_" corresp="yardarm">hanging at the
                  Yard-Arm</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="yardarm" target="yardarm_">A common nautical punishment was to hang someone by the yard,
                  one of the mast's wooden support beams. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
               </note>.</p>
            <p>That as to them, I wanted to know what they had to say, why I should not execute them
               as Pirates taken in the Fact, as by my Commission they could
               not doubt I had Authority to do.</p>
            <p>One of them answer'd in the Name of the rest, That they had nothing to say but this,
               That when they were taken, the Captain promis'd them their Lives, and they humbly
               implor'd my Mercy; But I told them, I knew not what Mercy to shew them; for as for my
               self, I had resolv'd to quit the Island with all my Men, and had taken Passage with
               the Captain to go for <hi rend="italic">England</hi>: And as for the Captain, he could not carry
               them to <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> other than as Prisoners in Irons to be try'd for Mutiny,
               and running away with the Ship; the Consequence of which, they must needs know, would
               be the Gallows; so that I could not tell which was best for them, unless they had a
               Mind to take their Fate in the Island; if they desir'd, that I did not care, as I had
               Liberty to leave it, I had some Inclination to give them their Lives, if they thought
               they could shift on Shore.</p>
            <p>They seem'd very thankful for it, said they would much rather venture to stay there,
               than to be carry'd to <hi rend="italic">England</hi> to be hang'd; so I
               left it on that Issue.</p>
            <p>However, the Captain seem'd to make some Difficulty of it, as if he durst not leave
               them there: Upon this I seem'd a little angry with the Captain, and told him, That
               they were my Prisoners, not his; and that seeing I had
               offered them so much Favour, I would be as good as my Word; and that if he did not
               think fit to consent to it, I would set them at Liberty, as I found them; and <pb n="328"/> if he did not like it, he might take them
               again if he could catch them.</p>
            <p>Upon this they appear'd very thankful, and I accordingly set
               them at Liberty, and bad them retire into the Woods to the
               Place whence they came, and I would leave them some Fire Arms, some Ammunition, and
               some Directions how they should live very well, if they thought fit.</p>
            <p>Upon this I prepar'd to go on Board the Ship, but told the Captain, that I would stay
               that Night to prepare my things, and desir'd him to go on Board in the mean time, and
               keep all right in the Ship, and send the Boat on Shore the next Day for me; ordering
               him in the mean time to cause the new Captain who was kill'd, to be hang'd at the
               Yard-Arm that these Men might see him.</p>
            <p>When the Captain was gone, I sent for the Men up to me to my Apartment, and entred
               seriously into Discourse with them of their Circumstances, I told them, I thought
               they had made a right Choice; that if the Captain carry'd them away, they would
               certainly be hang'd. I shewed them the new Captain, hanging at the Yard-Arm of the
               Ship, and told them they had nothing less to expect.</p>
            <p>When they had all declar'd their Willingness to stay, I then told them, I would let
               them into the Story of my living there, and put them into the Way of making it easy
               to them: Accordingly I gave them the whole History of the Place, and of my coming to
               it; shew'd them my Fortifications, the Way I made my Bread, planted my Corn, cured my Grapes; and in a Word, all that was necessary to make them easy: I told them the Story also of the
               sixteen <hi rend="italic">Spaniards</hi> that were to be expected; for
               whom I left a Letter, and made them promise to treat them in common with
               themselves.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="329"/>I left them my Fire Arms, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> Five
               Muskets, three Fowling Pieces, and three Swords. I had above a Barrel and half of
               Powder left; for after the first Year or two, I used but little, and wasted none. I
               gave them a Description of the Way I manag'd the Goats, and Directions to milk and
               fatten them, and to make both Butter and Cheese.</p>
            <p>In a Word, I gave them every Part of my own Story; and I told them, I would prevail
               with the Captain to leave them two Barrels of Gun-Powder more, and some Garden-Seeds,
               which I told them I would have been very glade of; also I gave them the Bag of Pease
               which the Captain had brought me to eat, and bad them be sure to sow and encrease them.</p>
            <head> <ref target="Audio21_" corresp="Audio21">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio21" target="Audio21_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_21_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            <p>Having done all this, I left them the next Day, and went on Board the Ship: We
               prepared immediately to sail, but did not weigh that Night:
               The next Morning early, two of the five Men came swiming to the Ship's Side, and
               making a most lamentable Complaint of the other three, begged to be taken into the Ship, for God's Sake, for they should be murthered, and
               begg'd the Captain to take them on Board, tho' he hang'd them immediately.</p>
            <p>Upon this the Captain pretended to have no Power without me; But after some
               Difficulty, and after their solemn Promises of Amendment, they were taken, and were
               some time after soundly whipp'd and pickl'd; after which, they prov'd very honest and
               quiet Fellows.</p>
            <p>Some time after this, the Boat was order'd on Shore, the Tide being up, with the
               things promised to the Men, to which the Captain at my Intercession caused their Chests and Cloaths to be aded, which they took, and were very thankful for; I also
               encourag'd them, by telling them, that if <pb n="330"/> it
               lay in my Way to send any Vessel to take them in, I would not forget them.</p>
            <p>When I took leave of this Island, I carry'd on board for Reliques, the great
               Goat's-Skin-Cap I had made, my Umbrella, and my Parrot; also I forgot not to take the
               Money I formerly mention'd, which had lain by me so long useless, that it was grown
               rusty, or tarnish'd, and could hardly pass for Silver, till it had been a little
               rubb'd, and handled; as also the Money I found in the Wreck of the <hi rend="italic">Spanish</hi>
               Ship.</p>
            <p>And thus I left the Island, the Nineteenth of <hi rend="italic">December,</hi> as I found by the
               Ship's Account, in the Year 1686, after I had been upon it eight and twenty Years,
               two Months, and 19 Days; being deliver'd from this second Captivity, the same Day of
               the Month, that I first made my Escape in the <ref target="barcolongo_" corresp="barcolongo">
                                <hi rend="italic">Barco-Longo</hi>
                            </ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="barcolongo" target="barcolongo_">A Spanish
                  fishing boat. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note>, from among the
                  <hi rend="italic">Moors</hi> of <hi rend="italic">Sallee.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>In this Vessel, after a long Voyage, I arriv'd in <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> the Eleventh of
                  <hi rend="italic">June,</hi> in the Year 1687, having been thirty and five Years absent.</p>
            <p>When I came to <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> I was as perfect a Stranger to all the World, as if
               I had never been known there. My Benefactor and faithful Steward, who I had left in Trust with my Money, was alive; but had had great
               Misfortunes in the World; was become a Widow the second Time, and very low in the
               World: I made her easy as to what she ow'd me, assuring her, I would give her no
               Trouble; but on the contrary, in Gratitude to her former Care and Faithfulness to me,
               I reliev'd her as my little Stock would afford, which at that Time would indeed allow
               me to do but little for her; but I assur'd her, I would never forget her former
               Kindness to me; nor did I forget her, when I had sufficient to help her, as shall be
               observ'd in its Place.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="331"/>I went down afterwards into
               <hi rend="italic">Yorkshire</hi>; but my Father was dead, and my Mother, and all the Family extinct, except that I found two Sisters, and two of
               the Children of one of my Brothers; and as I had been long ago given over for dead,
               there had been no Provision made for me; so that in a Word, I found nothing to
               relieve, or assist me; and that little Money I had, would not do much for me, as to
               settling in the World.</p>
            <p>I met with one Piece of Gratitude indeed, which I did not expect; and this was, That
               the Master of the Ship, who I had so happily deliver'd, and by the same Means sav'd
               the Ship and Cargo, having given a very handsome Account to
               the Owners, of the Manner how I had sav'd the Lives of the Men, and the Ship, they
               invited me to meet them, and some other Merchants concern'd, and altogether made me a very handsome Compliment upon the
               Subject, and a Present of almost two hundred Pounds Sterling.</p>
            <p>But after making several Reflections upon the Circumstances of my Life, and how
               little way this would go towards settling me in the World, I resolv'd to go to <hi rend="italic">Lisbon,</hi> and see if I might not come
               by some Information of the State of my Plantation in the <hi rend="italic">Brasils,</hi> and of
               what was become of my Partner, who I had reason to suppose had some Years now given
               me over for dead.</p>
            <p>With this View I took Shipping for <hi rend="italic">Lisbon,</hi> where I arriv'd in <hi rend="italic">April</hi>
               following; my Man <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> accompanying me very
               honestly in all these Ramblings, and proving a most faithful Servant upon all Occasions.</p>
            <p>When I came to <hi rend="italic">Lisbon,</hi> I found out by Enquiry, and to my particular
               Satisfaction, my old Friend the Captain of the Ship, who first took me up at Sea, off
               of the Shore of <hi rend="italic">Africk:</hi> He was now <pb n="332"/>
               grown old, and had left off the Sea, having put his Son, who was far from a young
               Man, into his Ship; and who still used the <hi rend="italic">Brasil</hi> Trade. The old Man did not
               know me, and indeed, I hardly knew him; but I soon brought him to my Remembrance, and as soon brought my self to his Remembrance, when I told him who I was.</p>
            <p>After some passionate Expressions of the old Acquaintance, I
               enquir'd, you may be sure, after my Plantation and my Partner: The old Man told me he
               had not been in the <hi rend="italic">Brasils</hi> for about nine Years; but that he could assure
               me, that when he came away, my Partner was living, but the Trustees, who I had join'd
               with him to take Cognizance of my Part, were both dead; that however, he believ'd that I would have a very good Account of the
               Improvement of the Plantation; for that upon the general Belief of my being cast
               away, and drown'd, my Trustees had given in the Account of the Produce of my Part of
               the Plantation, to the Procurator Fiscal, who had appropriated it, in Case I never
               came to claim it; one Third to the King, and two Thirds to the Monastery of St.
                     <hi rend="italic">Augustine,</hi> to be expended for the Benefit of
               the Poor, and for the Conversion of the <hi rend="italic">Indians</hi> to the Catholick Faith; but that if I appear'd, or any one for me, to
               claim the Inheritance, it should be restor'd; only that the Improvement, or Annual
               Production, being distributed to charitable Uses, could not be restor'd; but he
               assur'd me, that the Steward of the King's Revenue (from Lands) and the Proviedore, or Steward of the Monastery, had taken great Care all
               along, that the Incumbent, that is to say my Partner, gave every Year a faithful
               Account o, the Produce, of which they receiv'd duly my Moiety.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="333"/>I ask'd him if he knew to what height of Improvement he had brought the Plantation? And, Whether he
               thought it might be worth looking after? Or, Whether on my
               going thither, I should meet with no Obstruction to my Possessing my just Right in
               the Moiety?</p>
            <p>He told me, he could not tell exactly, to what Degree the Plantation was improv'd;
               but this he knew, that my Partner was grown exceeding Rich upon the enjoying but one
               half of it; and that to the best of his Remembrance, he had heard, that the King's
               Third of my Part, which was it seems granted away to some other Monastery, or
                  Religious House, amounted to above two hundred Moidores a Year; that as to my being restor'd to a quiet
               Possession of it, there was no question to be made of that, my Partner being alive to
               witness my Title, and my Name being also enrolled in the Register of the Country;
               also he told me, That the Survivors of my two Trustees, were very fair honest People,
               and very Wealthy; and he believ'd I would not only have their Assistance for putting
               me in Possession, but would find a very considerable Sum of Money in their Hands, for
               my Account; being the Produce of the Farm while their Fathers held the Trust, and
               before it was given up as above, which as he remember'd, was
               for about twelve Years.</p>
            <p>I shew'd my self a little concern'd, and uneasy at this Account, and enquir'd of the
               old Captain, How it came to pass, that the Trustees should thus dispose my Effects,
               when he knew that I had made my Will, and had made him, the <hi rend="italic">Portuguese</hi> Captain, my universal Heir, <hi rend="italic">&amp;c.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>He told me, that was true; but that as there was no Proof of my being dead, he could
               not act as Executor, until some certain Account should <pb n="334"/> come of my Death, and that besides, he was not willing
               to intermeddle with a thing so remote; that it was true he had registred my Will, and
               put in his Claim; and could he have given any Account of my being dead or alive, he
               would have acted by Procuration, and taken Possession of the <hi rend="italic">Ingenio,</hi> so
               they call'd the Sugar-House, and had given his Son, who was now at the
                  <hi rend="italic">Brasils,</hi> Order to do it.</p>
            <p>But, says the old Man, I have one Piece of News to tell you, which perhaps may not be
               so acceptable to you as the rest, and that is, That believing you were lost, and all
               the World believing so also, your Partner and Trustees did
                  offer to accompt to me in your Name, for six or eight of
               the first Years of Profits, which I receiv'd; but there being at the time, says he,
               great Disbursments for encreasing the Works, building an
                  <hi rend="italic">Ingenio,</hi> and buying Slaves, it did not amount to near so much as
               afterwards it produced: However, says the old Man, I shall give you a true Account of
               what I have received in all, and how I have disposed of it.</p>
            <p>After a few Days farther Conference with this ancient Friend, he brought me an
               Account of the six first Years Income of my Plantation, sign'd by my Partner and the
               Merchants Trustees, being always deliver'd in Goods,
                  <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> Tobacco in Roll, and Sugar in Chests, besides Rum, Molossus,
                  <hi rend="italic">&amp;c.</hi> which is the Consequence of a Sugar Work; and I found by this
               Account, that every Year the Income considerably encreased;
               but as above, the Disbursement being large, the Sum at first was small: However, the
               old Man let me see, that he was Debtor to me 470 Moidores of Gold, besides 60 Chests
               of Sugar, and 15 double Rolls of Tobacco which were lost in
               his Ship; he having been <pb n="335"/> Ship-wreck'd coming
               Home to <hi rend="italic">Lisbon</hi> about 11 Years after my leaving the Place.</p>
            <p>The good Man then began to complain of his Misfortunes, and how he had been obliged
               to make Use of my Money to recover his Losses, and buy him a Share in a new Ship:
               However, my old Friend, says he, you shall not want a Supply in your Necessity; and
               as soon as my Son returns, you shall be fully satisfy'd.</p>
            <p>Upon this, he pulls out an old Pouch, and gives me 160 <hi rend="italic">Portugal</hi> Moidores in
               Gold; and giving me the Writing of his Title to the Ship, which his Son was gone to
               the <hi rend="italic">Brasils</hi> in, of which he was a Quarter Part Owner, and his Son another, he puts them both into my Hands for Security of the rest.</p>
            <p>I was too much mov'd with the Honesty and Kindness of the poor Man, to be able to
               bear this; and remembring what he had done for me, how he had taken me up at Sea, and
               how generously he had used me on all Occasions, and particularly, how sincere a
               Friend he was now to me, I could hardly refrain Weeping at what he said to me:
               Therefore, first I asked him, if his Circumstances admitted him to spare so much
               Money at that time, and if it would not straiten him? He
               told me, he could not say but it might <ref target="straiten2_" corresp="straiten2">straiten him a little</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="straiten2" target="straiten2_">To make his financial situation tight.
                  Soure: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note>; but however it was my Money, and I might
               want it more than he.</p>
            <p>Every thing the good Man said was full of Affection, and I
               could hardly refrain from Tears while he spoke: In short, I took 100 of the Moidores, and call'd for a Pen and Ink to give him a Receipt
               for them; then I returned him the rest, and told him, If ever I had Possession of the
               Plantation, I would return the other to him also, as indeed I afterwards did; and that as to the Bill of Sale of <pb n="336"/> his Part in his Son's Ship, I would not take it by any
               Means; but that if I wanted the Money, I found he was honest enough to pay me; and if
               I did not, but came to receive what he gave me reason to
               expect, I would never have a Penny more from him.</p>
            <p>When this was pass'd, the old Man began to ask me, If he should put me into a Method
               to make my Claim to my Plantation? I told him, I thought to go over to it my self: He
               said, I might do so if I pleas'd; but that if I did not, there were Ways enough to secure my Right, and immediately to appropriate the Profits to my Use; and as there were Ships in
               the River of <hi rend="italic">Lisbon,</hi> just ready to go away to <hi rend="italic">Brasil,</hi> he made me
               enter my Name in a Publick Register, with his Affidavit, affirming upon Oath that I
               was alive, and that I was the same Person who took up the Land for the Planting the
               said Plantation at first.</p>
            <p>This being regularly attested by a Notary, and a Procuration affix'd, he directed me
               to send it with a Letter of his Writing, to a Merchant of his Acquaintance at the
               Place, and then propos'd my staying with him till an Account came of the Return.</p>
            <p>Never any Thing was more honourable, than the Proceedings upon this Procuration; for
               in less than seven Months, I receiv'd a large Packet from the Survivors of my
               Trustees the Merchants, for whose Account I went to Sea, in which were the following
               particular Letters and Papers enclos'd.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">First,</hi> There was the Account Current of the Produce of my Farm, or
               Plantation, from the Year when their Fathers had ballanc'd with my old <hi rend="italic">Portugal</hi> Captain, being for six Years; the Ballance
               appear'd to be 1174 Moidores in my Favour.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="337"/>
               <hi rend="italic">Secondly,</hi> There was the Account of four Years more while they kept the
               Effects in their Hands, before the Government claim'd the Administration, as being
               the Effects of a Person not to be found, which they call'd <hi rend="italic">Civil Death</hi>; and
               the Ballance of this, the Value of the Plantation encreasing, amounted to Cruisadoes, which made 3241 Moidores.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Thirdly,</hi> There was the Prior of the <hi rend="italic">Augustin</hi>'s Account, who had
               receiv'd the Profits for above fourteen Years; but not being to account for what was
               dispos'd to the Hospital, very honestly declar'd he had 872
               Moidores not distributed, which he acknowledged to my Account, as to the King's Part,
               that refunded nothing.</p>
            <p>There was a Letter of my Partner's, congratulating me very
               affectionately upon my being alive, giving me an Account how the Estate was improv'd, and what it produced a Year, with a Particular of the Number of Squares or Acres that it contained;
               how planted, how many Slaves there were upon it, and making two and twenty Crosses
               for Blessings, told me he had said so many <hi rend="italic">Ave Marias</hi> to thank the Blessed
               Virgin that I was alive; inviting me very passionately to come over and take
               Possession of my own; and in the mean time to give him Orders to whom he should
                  deliver my Effects, if I did not come my self; concluding with a hearty Tender of his Friendship, and that of
               his Family, and sent me, as a Present, seven fine Leopard's Skins, which he had it
               seems received from <hi rend="italic">Africa,</hi> by some other Ship which he had sent thither,
               and who it seems had made a better Voyage than I: He sent me
               also five Chests of excellent Sweet-meats, and an hundred Pieces of Gold uncoin'd,
               not quite so large as Moidores.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="338"/>By the same Fleet, my two Merchant Trustees
               shipp'd me 1200 Chests of Sugar, 800 Rolls of Tobacco, and
               the rest of the whole Accompt in Gold.</p>
            <p>I might well say, now indeed, That the latter End of <hi rend="italic">Job</hi> was better than the
               Beginning. It is impossible to express here the Flutterings of my very Heart, when I
               look'd over these Letters, and especially when I found all my Wealth about me; for as
               the <hi rend="italic">Brasil</hi> Ships come all in Fleets, the same Ships which brought my
               Letters, brought my Goods; and the Effects were safe in the River before the Letters came to my Hand. In a Word, I turned pale, and grew sick;
               and had not the old Man run and fetch'd me a Cordial, I believe the sudden Surprize
               of Joy had overset Nature, and <ref target="would2_" corresp="would2">I
                  had</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="would2" target="would2_">'Would have.' Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi> </note> dy'd upon the Spot.</p>
            <p>Nay after that, I continu'd very ill, and was so some Hours, 'till a Physician being
               sent for, and something of the real Cause of my Illness being known, he order'd me to
               be let Blood; after which, I had Relief, and grew well: But I verily believe, if it
               had not been <ref target="humors_" corresp="humors">eas'd by a Vent given in that
                  Manner, to the Spirits</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="humors" target="humors_">Galenic theories of medicine proposed that illness was caused by
                  a disproportionate quantity of bad humors in the body, and to heal the person, one
                  needed to fix the imbalance. To do this, techniques such as bloodletting were used
                  to drain the excess humors and restore equilibrium. Source: Wikipedia</note>, I
               should have dy'd.</p>
            <p>I was now Master, all on a Sudden, of above 5000 <hi rend="italic">l. Sterling</hi> in Money, and
               had an Estate, as I might well call it, in the <hi rend="italic">Brasils,</hi> of above a thousand
               Pounds a Year, as sure as an Estate of Lands in <hi rend="italic">England</hi>: And in a Word, I
               was in a Condition which I scarce knew how to understand, or how to compose my self,
               for the Enjoyment of it.</p>
            <p>The first thing I did, was to recompense my original
               Benefactor, my good old Captain, who had been first charitable to me in my Distress,
               kind to me in my Beginning, and honest to me at the End: I shew'd him all that was
               sent me, I <pb n="339"/> told him, that next to the
               Providence of Heaven, which disposes all things, it was owing to him; and that it now
               lay on me to reward him, which I would do a hundred fold: So I first return'd to him
               the hundred Moidores I had receiv'd of him, then I sent for a Notary, and caused him
               to draw up a general Release or Discharge for the 470 Moidores, which he had
               acknowledg'd he ow'd me in the fullest and firmest Manner possible; after which, I caused a Procuration to be drawn, impowering
               him to be my Receiver of the annual Profits of my Plantation, and appointing my
                  Partner to accompt to him, and make the Returns by the
               usual Fleets to him in my Name; and a Clause in the End, being a Grant of 100
               Moidores a Year to him, during his Life, out of the Effects, and 50 Moidores a Year
               to his Son after him, for his Life: And thus I requited my old Man.</p>
            <p>I was now to consider which Way to steer my Course next; and what to do with the
               Estate that Providence had thus put into my Hands; and indeed I had more Care upon my Head now, than I had in my silent State of Life in the
               Island, where I wanted nothing but what I had, and had nothing but what I wanted:
               Whereas I had now a great Charge upon me, and my Business was how to secure it. I had
               ne'er a Cave now to hide my Money in, or a Place where it might lye without Lock or
               Key, 'till it grew mouldy and tarnish'd before any Body would meddle with it: On the
               contrary, I knew not where to put it, or who to trust with it. My old Patron, the
                  Captain, indeed was honest, and that was the only Refuge I had.</p>
            <p>In the next Place, my Interest in the <hi rend="italic">Brasils</hi> seem'd to summon me thither,
               but now I could not tell, how to think of going thither, 'till I had <pb n="340"/> settled my Affairs, and left my Effects in some safe
               Hands behind me. At first I thought of my old Friend the Widow, who I knew was
               honest, and would be just to me; but then she was in Years, and but poor, and for
               ought I knew, might be in Debt; so that in a Word, I had no Way but to go back to
                  <hi rend="italic">England</hi> my self, and take my Effects with me.</p>
            <p>It was some Months however before I resolved upon this; and therefore, as I had
               rewarded the old Captain fully, and to his Satisfaction, who had been my former
               Benefactor, so I began to think of my poor Widow, whose Husband had been my first
               Benefactor, and she, while it was in her Power, my faithful Steward and Instructor.
               So the first thing I did, I got a Merchant in <hi rend="italic">Lisbon</hi> to write to his
               Correspondent in <hi rend="italic">London,</hi> not only to pay a Bill, but to go find her out, and
               carry her in Money, an hundred Pounds from me, and to talk
               with her, and comfort her in her Poverty, by telling her she
               should, if I liv'd, have a further Supply: At the same time
               I sent my two Sisters in the Country, each of them an Hundred Pounds, they being,
               though not in Want, yet not in very good Circumstances; one having been marry'd, and
               left a Widow; and the other having a Husband not so kind to
               her as he should be.</p>
            <p>But among all my Relations, or Acquaintances, I could not yet pitch upon one, to whom
               I durst commit the Gross of my Stock, that I might go away
               to the <hi rend="italic">Brasils,</hi> and leave things safe behind me; and this greatly perplex'd
               me.</p>
            <p>I had once a Mind to have gone to the <hi rend="italic">Brasils,</hi> and have settled my self
               there; for I was, as it were, naturaliz'd to the Place; but I had some little Scruple, in my Mind about Religion, which insensibly drew me back, of which I shall say <pb n="341"/> more presently. However, it was not Religion that kept
               me from going there for the present; and as I had made no Scruple of being openly of
               the Religion of the Country, all the while I was among them, so neither did I yet;
               only that now and then having of late thought more of it, (than formerly) when I
               began to think of living and dying among them, I began to regret my having profess'd
               my self a <ref target="papist_" corresp="papist">Papist</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="papist" target="papist_">A derogatory term
                  for Roman Catholics. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note>, and thought it
               might not be the best Religion to die with.</p>
            <p>But, as I have said, this was not the main thing that kept me from going to the
                  <hi rend="italic">Brasils,</hi> but that really I did not know with
               whom to leave my Effects behind me; so I resolv'd at last to go to <hi rend="italic">England</hi>
               with it, where, if I arrived, I concluded I should make some Acquaintance, or find
               some Relations that would be faithful to me; and according I prepar'd to go for <hi rend="italic">England</hi> with all my Wealth.</p>
            <p>In order to prepare things for my going Home, I first, the <hi rend="italic">Brasil</hi> Fleet
               being just going away, resolved to give Answers suitable to the just and faithful
                  Account of things I had from thence; and first to the
               Prior of St. <hi rend="italic">Augustine</hi> I wrote a Letter full of Thanks for their just
               Dealings, and the Offer of the 872 Moidores, which was indisposed of, which I desir'd might be given 500 to the Monastery, and 372 to the
               Poor, as the Prior should direct, desiring the good
                  <hi rend="italic">Padres</hi> Prayers for me, and the like.</p>
            <p>I wrote next a Letter of Thanks to my two Trustees, with all the Acknowledgment that
               so much Justice and Honesty call'd for; as for sending them
               any Present, they were far above having any Occasion of it.</p>
            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Lastly,</hi> I wrote to my Partner, acknowledging his Industry in the Improving
               the Plantation, and his Integrity in encreasing the Stock of the Works, giving him
               Instructions for his future Government <pb n="342"/> of my Part, according to the Powers I had left with my
               old Patron, to whom I desir'd him to send whatever became due to me, 'till he should
               hear from me more particularly; assuring him that it was my Intention, not only to
               come to him, but to settle my self there for the Remainder of my Life: To this I
               added a very handsom Present of some <hi rend="italic">Italian</hi> Silks for his Wife, and two
               Daughters, for such the Captain's Son inform'd me he had; with two Pieces of fine
                  <hi rend="italic">English</hi> broad Cloath, the best I could get in <hi rend="italic">Lisbon,</hi> five
               Pieces of black <ref target="baize_" corresp="baize">Bays</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="baize" target="baize_">Baize, a coarse
                  woolen cloth now commonly used on billiard tables. Source: Oxford English
                  Dictionary</note>, and some <hi rend="italic">Flanders</hi> Lace of a good Value.</p>
            <p>Having thus settled my Affairs, sold my Cargoe, and turn'd
               all my Effects into good Bills of Exchange, my next Difficulty was, which Way to go
               to <hi rend="italic">England</hi>: I had been accustom'd enough to the Sea, and yet I had a strange
               Aversion to going to <hi rend="italic">England</hi> by Sea at that time; and though I could give no
               Reason for it, yet the Difficulty encreas'd upon me so much, that though I had once
               shipp'd my Baggage, in order to go, yet I alter'd my Mind, and that not once, but two
               or three times.</p>
            <p>It is true, I had been very unfortunate by Sea, and this might be some of the Reason:
               But let no Man slight the strong Impulses of his own Thoughts in Cases of such
               Moment: Two of the Ships which I had singl'd out to go in, I mean, more particularly
               singl'd out than any other, that is to say, so as in one of them to put my things on
               Board, and in the other to have agreed with the Captain; I say, two of these Ships
               miscarry'd, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> One was taken by the <ref target="algerine_" corresp="algerine">
                                <hi rend="italic">Algerine</hi>
                            </ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="algerine" target="algerine_">People from Algeria. Source: Oxford English
                  Dictionary</note>, and the other was cast away on the <hi rend="italic">Start</hi> near <ref target="toray_" corresp="toray">
                                <hi rend="italic">Torbay</hi>
                            </ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="toray" target="toray_">A borough in Devon
                  in the souther coast of England. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note>, and all
               the People drown'd except three; so that in either of those Vessels I had been made
               miserable; and in which most, it was hard to say.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="343"/>Having been thus harass'd in my Thoughts, my
               old Pilot, to whom I communicated every thing, press'd me earnestly not to go by Sea,
               but either to go by Land to the <ref target="groin_" corresp="groin">
                                <hi rend="italic">Groyne</hi>
                            </ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="groin" target="groin_">A rigid hydraulic structure built from a bank that interrupts
                  water flow and limits the movement of sediment. Source: Oxford English
                  Dictionary</note>, and cross over the <ref target="biscay_" corresp="biscay">Bay
                  of <hi rend="italic">Biscay</hi>
                            </ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="biscay" target="biscay_">A bay off the coast of Europe, adjacent to France and Spain.
                  Source: Oxford English Dictioary</note> to <ref target="rochelle_" corresp="rochelle">
                                <hi rend="italic">Rochell</hi>
                            </ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="rochelle" target="rochelle_"> La Rochelle, a seaport city in France
                  adjacent to the Bay of Biscay. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note>, from
               whence it was but an easy and safe Journey by Land to <hi rend="italic">Paris,</hi> and so to
                  <hi rend="italic">Calais</hi> and <hi rend="italic">Dover</hi>; or to go up to <hi rend="italic">Madrid,</hi> and so all the
               Way by Land thro' <hi rend="italic">France.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>In a Word, I was so prepossess'd against my goingt by Sea at all, except from
                  <hi rend="italic">Calais</hi> to <hi rend="italic">Dover,</hi> that I resolv'd to travel all the Way by Land;
               which as I was not in Haste, and did not value the Charge, was by much the pleasanter
               Way; and to make it more so, my old Captain brought an <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Gentleman, the Son of a Merchant in <hi rend="italic">Lisbon,</hi> who was willing
               to travel with me: After which, we pick'd up two more <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Merchants
               also, and two young <hi rend="italic">Portuguese</hi> Gentlemen, the last going to <hi rend="italic">Paris</hi>
               only; so that we were in all six of us, and five Servants; the two Merchants and the
               two <hi rend="italic">Portuguese,</hi> contenting themselves with one Servant, between two, to save the Charge; and as for me, I got an <hi rend="italic">English</hi>
               Sailor to travel with me as a Servant, besides my Man <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> who was too
               much a Stranger to be capable of supplying the Place of a Servant on the Road.</p>
            <p>In this Manner I set out from <hi rend="italic">Lisbon</hi>; and our Company being all very well
               mounted and armed, we made a little Troop, whereof they did me the Honour to call me
               Captain, as well because I was the oldest Man, as because I had two Servants, and indeed was the <ref target="cause_" corresp="cause">Original</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#AJB" xml:id="cause" target="cause_"> Cause </note> of the whole Journey.</p>
            <p>As I have troubled you with none of my Sea-Journals, so I shall trouble you now with
               none of my Land-Journal: But some Adventures that happen'd
                  <pb n="344"/> to us in this tedious and difficult
               Journey, I must not omit.</p>
            <p>When we came to <hi rend="italic">Madrid,</hi> we being all of us Strangers to <hi rend="italic">Spain,</hi> were
               willing to stay some time to see the Court of <hi rend="italic">Spain,</hi> and to see what was
               worth observing; but it being the latter Part of the Summer, we hasten'd away, and
               set out from <hi rend="italic">Madrid</hi> about the Middle of <hi rend="italic">October</hi>: But when we came
               to the Edge of <hi rend="italic">Navarre,</hi> we were alarm'd at several Towns on the Way, with an
               Account, that so much Snow was fallen on the <hi rend="italic">French</hi> Side of the Mountains,
               that several Travellers were obliged to come back to <ref target="pamplona_" corresp="pamplona">
                                <hi rend="italic">Pampeluna</hi>
                            </ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="pamplona" target="pamplona_">Pamplona is the capital city of Navarre, an
                  autonomous community within Spain. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi> </note>,
               after having attempted, at an extream Hazard, to pass
               on.</p>
            <p>When we came to <hi rend="italic">Pampeluna</hi> it self, we found it so indeed; and to me that had
               been always used to a hot Climate, and indeed to Countries where we could scarce bear
               any Cloaths on, the Cold was insufferable; nor indeed was it more painful than it was
               surprising, to come but ten Days before out of the old
               Castile where the Weather was not only warm but very hot, and immediately to feel a
               Wind from the <hi rend="italic">Pyrenean</hi> Mountains, so very keen, so
               severely cold, as to be intollerable, and to endanger benumbing and perishing of our
               Fingers and Toes.</p>
            <p>Poor <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> was really frighted when he saw the Mountains all cover'd with
               Snow, and felt cold Weather, which he had never seen or felt before in his Life.</p>
            <p>To mend the Matter, when we came to <hi rend="italic">Pampeluna,</hi> it
               continued snowing with so much Violence, and so long, that
               the People said, Winter was come before its time, and the Roads which were difficult
               before, were now quite impassable: For in a Word, the Snow lay in some Places too
               thick for us to travel; and being not hard frozen, as <pb n="345"/> is the Case in Northern Countries: There was no going
               without being in Danger of being bury'd alive every Step. We stay'd no less than
               twenty Days at <hi rend="italic">Pampeluna</hi>; when seeing the Winter coming on, and no Likelihood of its being better; for it was the severest Winter all
               over <hi rend="italic">Europe</hi> that had been known in the Memory of Man. I propos'd that we
               should all go away to <ref target="fonterabia_" corresp="fonterabia">
                                <hi rend="italic">Fonterabia</hi>
                            </ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="fonterabia" target="fonterabia_">Fuenterrabia or Hondarribia, a town on
                  the west shore of the Bidasoa River's mouth in Spain. Source: Oxford English
                  Dictionary</note>, and there take Shipping for <ref target="bourdeaux_" corresp="bourdeaux">
                                <hi rend="italic">Bourdeaux</hi>
                            </ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="bourdeaux" target="bourdeaux_">A port city on the Garonne River in the
                  southwest France. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note>, which was a very
               little Voyage.</p>
            <p>But while we were considering this, there came in four <hi rend="italic">French</hi> Gentlemen, who
               having been stopp'd on the <hi rend="italic">French</hi> Side of the Passes, as we were on the
                  <hi rend="italic">Spanish,</hi> had found out a Guide, who traversing
               the Country near the Head of <ref target="languedoc_" corresp="languedoc">
                                <hi rend="italic">Languedoc</hi>
                            </ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="languedoc" target="languedoc_">A territory in the south of France. Source:
                  <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note>, had brought them over the Mountains by such
               Ways, that they were not much incommoded with the Snow; and where they met with Snow
               in any Quantity, they said it was frozen hard enough to bear them and their
               Horses.</p>
            <p>We sent for this Guide, who told us, he would undertake to carry us the same Way with
               no Hazard from the Snow, provided we were armed sufficiently
               to protect our selves from wild Beasts; for he said, upon these great Snows, it was
                  frequent for some Wolves to show themselves at the Foot
               of the Mountains, being made ravenous for Want of Food, the Ground being covered with
               Snow: We told him, we were well enough prepar'd for such Creatures as they were, if
               he would ensure us from <ref target="wolves_" corresp="wolves">a Kind of two-legged
                  Wolves</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="wolves" target="wolves_">Crusoe wryly alludes to the Catholic authorities, the agents of the Inquisition.
               </note>, which we were told, we were in most Danger from, <ref target="inquisition_" corresp="inquisition">especially on the <hi rend="italic">French</hi> Side of the
                  Mountains</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="inquisition" target="inquisition_">The Spanish Inquisition was actually just one of a series of
                  Catholic inquisitions in Europe, which began with the Inquisition in the south of
                  France by Pope Lucius III at the end of the 12th century. Source:
               Wikipedia</note>. </p>
            <p>He satisfy'd us there was no Danger of that kind in the Way that we were to go; so we
               readily agreed to follow him, as did also twelve other Gentlemen, <pb n="346"/> with their
               Servants, some <hi rend="italic">French,</hi> some <hi rend="italic">Spanish</hi>; who,
               as I said, had attempted to go, and were oblig'd to come back again.</p>
            <p>Accordingly, we all set out from <hi rend="italic">Pampeluna,</hi> with our Guide, on the fifteenth
               of <hi rend="italic">November</hi>; and indeed, I was surpriz'd, when
               instead of going forward, he came directly back with us, on
               the same Road that we came from <hi rend="italic">Madrid,</hi> above twenty Miles; when being
               pass'd two Rivers, and come into the plain Country, we found our selves in a warm
               Climate again, where the Country was pleasant, and no Snow
               to be seen; but on a sudden, turning to his left, he approach'd the Mountains another
               Way; and though it is true, the Hills and Precipices look'd dreadful, yet he made so
               many <ref target="detour_" corresp="detour">Tours</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="detour" target="detour_">Detours. Source:
                  <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note>, such Meanders, and led us by such winding Ways, that we were insensibly pass'd the Height of the
               Mountains, without being much incumbred with the Snow; and all on a sudden, he shew'd
               us the pleasant fruitful Provinces of <hi rend="italic">Languedoc</hi> and
                  <hi rend="italic">Gascoign,</hi> all green and flourishing; tho' indeed it was at a great
               Distance, and we had some rough Way to pass yet.</p>
            <p>We were a little uneasy however, when we found it snow'd one whole Day, and a Night,
               so fast, that we could not travel; but he bid us be easy, we should soon be past it
               all: We found indeed, that we began to descend every Day, and to come more
                  <hi rend="italic">North</hi> than before; and so depending upon our Guide, we went on.</p>
            <p>It was about two Hours before Night, when our Guide being something before us, and
               not just in Sight, out rushed three monstrous Wolves, and after them a Bear, out of a
               hollow Way, adjoyning to a thick Wood; two of the Wolves
               flew upon the Guide, and had he been half a Mile before us,
               he had been devour'd indeed, before we could <pb n="347"/>
               have help'd him: One of them fastned upon his Horse, and the other attack'd the Man
               with that Violence, that he had not Time, or not Presence of Mind enough to draw his
               Pistol, but hollow'd and cry'd out to us most lustily; my Man <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> being
               next me, I bid him ride up, and see what was the Matter; as soon as <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi>
               came in Sight of the Man, he hollow'd as loud as t'other, <hi rend="italic">O Master! O Master!</hi> But like a bold Fellow, rode directly up to the poor Man, and with his Pistol shot the Wolf
               that attack'd him into the Head.</p>
            <p>It was happy for the poor Man, that it was my Man <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi>; for he having been
               us'd to that kind of Creature in his Country, had no Fear upon him; but went close up
               to him, and shot him as above; whereas any of us, would have fir'd at a farther
               Distance, and have perhaps either miss'd the Wolf, or endanger'd shooting the
               Man.</p>
            <p>But it was enough to have terrify'd a bolder Man than I, and indeed it alarm'd all
               our Company, when with the Noise of <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi>'s
               Pistol, we heard on both Sides the dismallest Howling of Wolves, and the Noise
               redoubled by the Eccho of the Mountains, that it was to us as if there had been a
               prodigious Multitude of them; and perhaps indeed there was not such a Few, as that we
               had no cause of Apprehensions.</p>
            <p>However, as <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> had kill'd this Wolf, the other
               that had fastned upon the Horse, left him immediately, and
               fled; having happily fastned upon his Head, where the Bosses of the Bridle had stuck
               in his Teeth; so that he had not done him much Hurt: The Man indeed was most Hurt;
               for the raging Creature had bit him twice, once on the Arm, and the other Time a
               little above his Knee; and he was just as it were tumbling down by the <pb n="348"/> Disorder of his Horse, when <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> came up
               and shot the Wolf.</p>
            <p>It is easy to suppose, that at the Noise of <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi>'s Pistol, we all mended our Pace, and rid up as fast as the Way (which was
               very difficult) would give us leave, to see what was the Matter; as soon as we came
               clear of the Trees, which blinded us before, we saw clearly what had been the Case,
               and how <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> had disengag'd the poor Guide; though we did not presently
               discern what kind of Creature it was he had kill'd.</p>
            <head> <ref target="Audio22_" corresp="Audio22">[Audio File]</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Audio22" target="Audio22_">
                                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/defoe-crusoe/soundFiles/robinsoncrusoe_22_defoe_64kb.mp3"/>Librivox recording, read by Mark F. Smith</note>
                        </head>
            <p>But never was a Fight manag'd so hardily, and in such a surprizing Manner, as that
               which follow'd between <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> and the Bear, which gave us all (though at
               first we were surpriz'd and afraid for him) the greatest Diversion imaginable: As the
               Bear is a heavy, clumsey Creature, and does not gallop as the Wolf does, who is
               swift, and light; so he has two particular Qualities, which generally are the Rule of
               his Actions; First, As to Men, who are not his proper Prey; I say, not his proper
               Prey; because tho' I cannot say what excessive Hunger might do, which was now their
               Case, the Ground being all cover'd with Snow; but as to Men, he does not usually attempt them, unless they first attack him: On the
               contrary, if you meet him in the Woods, if you don't meddle with him, he won't meddle
               with you; but then you must take Care to be very Civil to him, and give him the Road;
               for he is a very nice Gentleman, he won't go a Step out of his Way for a Prince; nay,
               if you are really afraid, your best way is to look another Way, and keep going on;
               for sometimes if you stop, and stand still, and look steadily at him, he takes it for
               an Affront; but if you throw or toss any Thing at him, and it hits him, though it
               were but a bit of a Stick, as big as your Finger, he takes it for an Affront, and
               sets all <pb n="349"/> his other Business aside to pursue
               his Revenge; for he will have Satisfaction in Point of Honour; that is his first
               Quality: The next is, That if he be once affronted, he will never leave you, Night or
               Day, till he has his Revenge; but follows at a good round rate, till he overtakes
               you.</p>
            <p>My Man <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> had deliver'd our Guide, and when we came up to him, he was
               helping him off from his Horse; for the Man was both hurt and frighted, and indeed,
               the last more than the first; when on the sudden, we spy'd the Bear come out of the
               Wood, and a vast monstrous One it was, the biggest by far that ever I saw: We were
               all a little surpriz'd, when we saw him; but when <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> saw him, it was
               easy to see Joy and Courage in the Fellow's Countenance; <hi rend="italic">O! O! O!</hi> Says
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> three Times, pointing to him; <hi rend="italic">O</hi> Master! <hi rend="italic">You give me
                  te Leave! Me shakee te Hand with him: Me make you good laugh.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>I was surpriz'd to see the Fellow so pleas'd; <hi rend="italic">You Fool you,</hi> says I, <hi rend="italic">he
                  will eat you up! Eatee me up! Eatee me up!</hi> Says <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> twice over
               again; <hi rend="italic">Me eatee him up; me makee you good laugh: You all stay here, me show you
                  good laugh</hi>; so down he sits, and gets his Boots off in a Moment, and put on a
               Pair of Pumps (as we call the flat Shoes they wear) and which he had in his Pocket,
               gives my other Servant his Horse, and with his Gun away he flew swift like the
               Wind.</p>
            <p>The Bear was walking softly on, and offer'd to meddle with no Body, till
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> coming pretty near, calls to him, as if the Bear could understand
               him; <hi rend="italic">Hark ye, hark ye,</hi> says <hi rend="italic">Friday, me speakee wit you:</hi> We follow'd
               at a Distance; for now being come down on the <hi rend="italic">Gascoign</hi> side of the Mountains, we were entred a vast great Forest, where the Country
               was plain, and pretty open, though many Trees in it scatter'd here and there.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="350"/>
               <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> who had as we say, the Heels of the Bear, came up with him quickly,
               and takes up a great Stone, and throws at him, and hit him just on the Head; but did
               him no more harm, than if he had thrown it against a Wall; but it answer'd
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi>'s End; for the Rogue was so void of Fear, that he did it purely to
               make the Bear follow him, and show us some Laugh as he call'd it.</p>
            <p>As soon as the Bear felt the Stone, and saw him, he turns about, and comes after him,
               taking Devilish long Strides, and shuffling along at a
               strange Rate, so as would have put a Horse to a middling Gallop; away runs <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> and takes his Course, as if he run towards us for
               Help; so we all resolv'd to fire at once upon the Bear, and deliver my Man; though I
               was angry at him heartily, for bringing the Bear back upon us, when he was going
               about his own Business another Way; and especially I was angry that he had turn'd the
               Bear upon us, and then run away; and I call'd out, <hi rend="italic">You Dog,</hi> said I, <hi rend="italic">is
                  this your making us laugh? Come away, and take your Horse, that we may shoot the
                  Creature </hi>; he hears me, and crys out, <hi rend="italic">No shoot, no shoot, stand still,
                  you get much Laugh.</hi> And as the nimble Creature run two Foot for the Beast's
               one, he turn'd on a sudden, on one side of us, and seeing a great Oak-Tree, fit for
               his Purpose, he beckon'd to us to follow, and doubling his
               Pace, he gets nimbly up the Tree, laying his Gun down upon the Ground, at about five
               or six Yards from the Bottom of the Tree.</p>
            <p>The Bear soon came to the Tree, and we follow'd at a
               Distance; the first Thing he did, he stopp'd at the Gun, smelt to it, but let it lye,
               and up he scrambles into the Tree, climbing like a Cat, though so monstrously heavy:
               I was amaz'd at the Folly, as I thought it, of my Man, and could not for my Life see
               any Thing to laugh at yet, till seeing <pb n="351"/> the Bear get up the Tree, we all rod nearer to
               him.</p>
            <p>When we came to the Tree, there was <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> got out to the small End of a
               large Limb of the Tree, and the Bear got about half way to him; as soon as the Bear
               got out to that part where the Limb of the Tree was weaker, <hi rend="italic">Ha,</hi> says he to
               us, <hi rend="italic">now you see me teachee the Bear dance</hi>; so he falls a jumping and shaking
               the Bough, at which the Bear began to totter, but stood still, and begun to look
               behind him, to see how he should get back; then indeed we did laugh heartily: But
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> had not done with him by a great deal; when he sees him stand
               still, he calls out to him again, as if he had suppos'd the Bear could speak
                  <hi rend="italic">English; What you no come farther, pray you come farther</hi>; so he left
                  jumping and shaking the Trees; and the Bear, just as if
               he had understood what he said, did come a little further, then he fell a jumping
               again, and the Bear stopp'd again.</p>
            <p>We thought now was a good time to knock him on the Head, and call'd to
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> to stand still, and we would shoot the Bear; but he cry'd out
               earnestly, <hi rend="italic">O pray! O pray! No shoot, me shoot, by and then</hi>; he would have
               said, <hi rend="italic">By and by</hi>: However, to shorten the Story, <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> danc'd so
               much, and the Bear stood so ticklish, that we had laughing enough indeed, but still
               could not imagine what the Fellow would do; for first we thought he depended upon shaking the Bear off; and we found the Bear was
               too cunning for that too; for he would not go out far enough to be thrown down, but
               clings fast with his great broad Claws and Feet, so that we could not imagine what
               would be the End of it, and where the Jest would be at last.</p>
            <p>
               <pb n="352"/>But <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> put us out of doubt
               quickly; for seeing the Bear cling fast to the Bough, and that he would not be
               perswaded to come any farther; <hi rend="italic">Well, well,</hi> says <hi rend="italic">Friday, you no come
                  farther, me go, me go; you no come to me, me go come to you</hi>; and upon this,
               he goes out to the smallest End of the Bough, where it would bend with his Weight,
               and gently lets himself down by it, sliding down the Bough, till he came near enough
               to jump down on his Feet, and away he run to his Gun, takes it up, and stands
               still.</p>
            <p>Well, said I to him <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> What will you do now? Why don't you shoot him?
                  <hi rend="italic">No shoot,</hi> says <hi rend="italic">Friday, no yet, me shoot now, me no kill; me stay,
                  give you one more laugh</hi>; and indeed so he did, as you will see presently; for
               when the Bear see his Enemy gone, he comes back from the
               Bough where he stood; but did it mighty leisurely, looking behind him every Step, and
               coming backward till he got into the Body of the Tree; then with the same hinder End
               foremost, he came down the Tree, grasping it with his Claws, and moving one Foot at a
               Time, very leisurely; at this Juncture, and just before he could set his hind Feet
               upon the Ground, <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> stept up close to him, clapt the Muzzle of his Piece
               into his Ear, and shot him dead as a Stone.</p>
            <p>Then the Rogue turn'd about, to see if we did not laugh, and when he saw we were
               pleas'd by our Looks, he falls a laughing himself very loud; <hi rend="italic">so we kill Bear in
                  my Country,</hi> says <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi>; so you kill them, says I, Why you have no
               Guns: <hi rend="italic">No,</hi> says he, <hi rend="italic">no Gun, but shoot, great much long Arrow.</hi>
            </p>
            <p>This was indeed a good Diversion to us; but we were still in a wild Place, and our
               Guide very much hurt, and what to do we hardly knew; the Howling of Wolves run much
               in my Head; and indeed, <pb n="353"/> except the Noise I once heard on the Shore of
                  <placeName type="tgn" key="7001242">
                                <hi rend="italic">Africa,</hi>
                            </placeName> of which I have said something already. I never heard any thing
               that filled me with so much Horrour.</p>
            <p>These things, and the Approach of Night, called us off, or
               else, as <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> would have had us, we should certainly have taken the Skin
               of this monstrous Creature off, which was worth saving; but we had three Leagues to
               go, and our Guide hasten'd us, so we left him, and went forward on our Journey.</p>
            <p>The Ground was still cover'd with Snow, tho' not so deep and dangerous as on the
               Mountains, and the ravenous Creatures, as we heard afterwards, were come down into the Forest and plain Country, press'd by Hunger to seek
               for Food; and had done a great deal of Mischief in the Villages, where they surpriz'd
               the Country People, kill'd a great many of their Sheep and Horses, and some People
               too.</p>
            <p>We had one dangerous Place to pass, which our Guide told us, if there were any more
               Wolves in the Country, we should find them there; and this was in a small Plain,
               surrounded with Woods on every Side, and a long narrow Defile or Lane, which we were
               to pass to get through the Wood, and then we should come to the Village where we were
               to lodge.</p>
            <p>It was within half an Hour of Sun-set when we entred the first Wood; and a little
               after Sun-set, when we came into the Plain, we met with nothing in the first Wood, except, that in a little Plain within the Wood, which was
               not above two Furlongs over, we saw five great Wolves cross the Road, full Speed one
               after another, as if they had been in Chase of some Prey, and had it in View, <pb n="354"/> they took no Notice of us, and were gone, and
               out of our Sight in a few Moments.</p>
            <p>Upon this our Guide, who by the Way was a wretched faint-hearted Fellow, bid us keep
               in a ready Posture; for he believed there were more Wolves a coming.</p>
            <p>We kept our Arms ready, and our Eyes about us, but we saw no more Wolves, 'till we
               came thro' that Wood, which was near half a League, and entred the Plain; as soon as we came into the Plain, we had Occasion enough to look
               about us: The first Object we met with, was a dead Horse; that is to say, a poor
               Horse which the Wolves had kill'd, and at least a Dozen of them at Work; we could not
               say eating of him, but picking of his Bones rather; for they had eaten up all the
               Flesh before.</p>
            <p>We did not think fit to disturb them at their Feast, neither did they take much
               Notice of us: <hi rend="italic">Friday</hi> would have let fly at them, but I would not suffer him
               by any Means; for I found we were like to have more Business upon our Hands than we
               were aware of. We were not gone half over the Plain, but we began to hear the Wolves
               howl in the Wood on our Left, in a frightful Manner, and
               presently after we saw about a hundred coming on directly towards us, all in a Body,
               and most of them in a Line, as regularly as an Army drawn up by experienc'd Officers.
               I scarce knew in what Manner to receive them; but found to draw our selves in a close
               Line was the only Way: so we form'd in a Moment: But that we might not have too much
               Interval, I order'd, that only every other Man should fire,
               and that the others who had not fir'd should stand ready to
               give them a second Volley immediately, if they continued to advance upon us, and that
               then <pb n="355"/> those who had fir'd at first, should not
               pretend to load their <ref target="fusee_" corresp="fusee">Fusees</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="fusee" target="fusee_">Light muskets or
                  firelocks. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note> again, but stand ready with
               every one a Pistol; for we were all arm'd with a Fusee, and a Pair of Pistols each
               Man; so we were by this Method able to fire six Volleys, half of us at a Time;
               however, at present we had no Necessity; for upon firing the
               first Volley, the Enemy made a full Stop, being terrify'd as well with the Noise, as
               with the Fire; four of them being shot into the Head, dropp'd, several others were
                  wounded, and went bleeding off, as we could see by the
               Snow: I found they stopp'd, but did not immediately retreat;
               whereupon remembring that I had been told, that the fiercest Creatures were terrify'd at the Voice of a Man, I caus'd all our Company to hollow as loud as we could; and I found the Notion
               not altogether mistaken; for upon our Shout, they began to retire, and turn about;
               then I order'd a second Volley to be fir'd, in their Rear, which put them to the
               Gallop, and away they went to the Woods.</p>
            <p>This gave us leisure to charge our Pieces again, and that we might loose no Time, we
               kept going; but we had but little more than loaded our Fusees, and put our selves
               into a Readiness, when we heard a terrible Noise in the same Wood, on our Left, only
               that it was farther onward the same Way we were to go.</p>
            <p>The Night was coming on, and the Light began to be dusky,
               which made it worse on our Side; but the Noise encreasing, we could easily perceive
               that it was the Howling and Yelling of those hellish
               Creatures; and on a sudden, we perceiv'd 2 or 3 Troops of Wolves, one on our Left,
               one behind us, and one on our Front; so that we seem'd to be surrounded with 'em;
               however, as they did not fall upon us, we kept our Way forward, as fast as <pb n="356"/> we could make our Horses go, which the Way
                  being very rough, was only a good large Trot; and in this
               Manner we came in View of the Entrance of a Wood, through which we were to pass, at
               the farther Side of the Plain; but we were greatly surpriz'd, when coming nearer the Lane, or Pass, we saw a confus'd Number of Wolves
               standing just at the Entrance.</p>
            <p>On a sudden, at another opening of the Wood, we heard the Noise of a Gun; and looking
               that Way, out rush'd a Horse, with a Saddle, and a Bridle on him, flying like the
               Wind, and sixteen or seventeen Wolves after him, full Speed; indeed, the Horse had
               the Heels of them; but as we suppos'd that he could not hold
               it at that rate, we doubted not but they would get up with him at last, and no
               question but they did.</p>
            <p>But here we had a most horrible Sight; for riding up to the
               Entrance where the Horse came out, we found the Carcass of another Horse, and of two
               Men, devour'd by the ravenous Creatures, and one of the Men was no doubt the same who
               we heard fir'd the Gun; for there lay a Gun just by him, fir'd off; but as to the
               Man, his Head, and the upper Part of his Body was eaten up.</p>
            <p>This fill'd us with Horror, and we knew not what Course to take, but the Creatures
               resolv'd us soon; for they gather'd about us presently, in hopes of Prey; and I
               verily believe there were three hundred of them: It happen'd
               very much to our Advantage, that at the Entrance into the
               Wood, but a little Way from it, there lay some large Timber Trees, which had been cut
               down the Summer before, and I suppose lay there for <ref target="carriage_" corresp="carriage">Carriage</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="carriage" target="carriage_">To be carried
                  elsewhere. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi> </note>; I drew my little Troop in
               among those Trees, and placing our selves in a Line, behind one long Tree, I advis'd them all to light, and keeping that Tree before <pb n="357"/> us, for a <ref target="breastwork_" corresp="breastwork">Breast Work</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="breastwork" target="breastwork_">A
                  makeshift fortification or defense. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note>, to
               stand in a Triangle, or three Fronts, enclosing our Horses
               in the Center.</p>
            <p>We did so, and it was well we did; for never was a more furious Charge than the
               Creatures made upon us in the Place; they came on us with a growling kind of a Noise
               (and mounted the Piece of Timber, which as I said, was our Breast Work) as if they
               were only rushing upon their Prey; and this Fury of theirs, it seems, was principally
                  occasion'd by their seeing our Horses behind us, which
               was the Prey they aim'd at: I order'd our Men to fire as before, every other Man; and
               they took their Aim so sure, that indeed they kill'd several of the Wolves at the
               first Volley; but there was a Necessity to keep a continual Firing; for they came on
               like Devils, those behind pushing on those before.</p>
            <p>When we had fir'd our second Volley of our Fusees, we
               thought they stopp'd a little, and I hop'd they would have gone off; but it was but a
                  Moment; for others came forward again; so we fir'd two
               Volleys of our Pistols, and I believe in these four Firings, we had kill'd seventeen
               or eighteen of them, and lam'd twice as many; yet they came on again.</p>
            <p>I was loath to spend our last Shot too hastily; so I call'd my Servant, not my Man
                  <hi rend="italic">Friday,</hi> for he was better employ'd; for with the greatest Dexterity
               imaginable, he had charg'd my Fusee, and his own, while we were engag'd; but as I
               said, I call'd my other Man, and giving him a Horn of Powder, I bad him lay a Train,
               all along the Piece of Timber, and let it be a large Train;
               he did so, and had but just Time to get away, when the Wolves came up to it, and some
               were got up upon it; when I snapping an uncharg'd Pistol, close to the Powder, <pb n="358"/> set it on fire;
               those that were upon the Timber were scorcht with it, and
               six or seven of them fell, or rather jump'd in among us, with the Force and Fright of
               the Fire, we dispatch'd these in an Instant, and the rest were so frighted with the
               Light, which the Night, for it was now very near Dark, made more terrible, that they
               drew back a little.</p>
            <p>Upon which I order'd our last Pistol to be fir'd off in one Volley, and after that we
               gave a Shout; upon this, the Wolves turn'd Tail, and we sally'd immediately upon near
               twenty lame Ones, who we found struggling on the Ground, and fell a cutting them with our Swords, which answer'd our Expectation;
               for the Crying and Howling they made, was better understood by their Fellows, so that
               they all fled and left us.</p>
            <p>We had, first and last, kill'd about three Score of them; and had it been Day-Light,
                  <ref target="would_" corresp="would">we had</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="would" target="would_">'Would have.'
                  Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note> kill'd many more: The Field of Battle
               being thus clear'd, we made forward again; for we had still near a League to go. We
               heard the ravenous Creatures houl and yell in the Woods as
               we went, several Times; and sometimes we fancy'd we saw some
               of them, but the Snow dazling our Eyes, we were not certain; so in about an Hour
               more, we came to the Town, where we were to lodge, which we found in a terrible
               Fright, and all in Arms; for it seems, that the Night before, the Wolves and some
               Bears had broke into the Village in the Night, and put them in a terrible Fright, and
               they were oblig'd to keep Guard Night and Day, but especially in the Night, to
               preserve their Cattle, and indeed their People.</p>
            <p>The next Morning our Guide was so ill, and his Limbs swell'd with the rankling of his
               two Wounds, that he could go no farther; so we were oblig'd to <pb n="359"/> take a new Guide there, and go to <hi rend="italic">Tholouse,</hi>
               where we found a warm Climate, a fruitful pleasant Country,
               and no Snow, no Wolves, or any Thing like them; but when we told our Story at
                  <hi rend="italic">Tholouse,</hi> they told us it was nothing but what was ordinary in the great
               Forest at the Foot of the Mountains, especially when the
               Snow lay on the Ground: But they enquir'd much what kind of a Guide we had gotten, that would venture to bring us that Way in such a
               severe Season; and told us, it was <ref target="verymuch_" corresp="verymuch">very
                  much</ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="verymuch" target="verymuch_">Momentous; a big deal. Source: <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note>
               we were not all devour'd. When we told them how we plac'd our selves, and the Horses
               in the Middle, they blam'd us exceedingly, and told us it was fifty to one but we had
               been all destroy'd; for it was the Sight of the Horses which made the Wolves so furious, seeing their Prey; and that at other Times they are
               really afraid of a Gun; but the being excessive Hungry, and
               raging on that Account, the Eagerness to come at the Horses had made them sensless of
               Danger; and that if we had not by the continu'd Fire, and at last by the Stratagem of
               the Train of Powder, master'd them, it had been great Odds but that we had been torn
               to Pieces; whereas had we been content to have sat still on
                  Horseback, and fir'd as Horsemen, they would not have
               taken the Horses for so much their own, when Men were on their Backs, as otherwise;
               and withal they told us, that at last, if we had stood altogether, and left our Horses, they would have been so eager to have devour'd them,
               that we might have come off safe, especially having our Fire Arms in our Hands, and
               being so many in Number.</p>
            <p>For my Part, I was never so sensible of Danger in my Life; for seeing above three
               hundred Devils come roaring and open mouth'd to devour us, and having nothing to
               shelter us, or retreat to, I gave my self over for lost; and as it was. I believe, I
                  <pb n="360"/> shall never care to cross those Mountains
               again; I think I would much rather go a thousand Leagues by Sea, though I were sure
               to meet with a Storm once a Week.</p>
            <p>I have nothing uncommon to take Notice of, in my Passage through <hi rend="italic">France</hi>;
               nothing but what other Travellers have given an Account of,
               with much more Advantage than I can. I travell'd from <hi rend="italic">Bourdeaux</hi> to
                  <hi rend="italic">Paris,</hi> and without any considerable Stay, came to <hi rend="italic">Callais,</hi> and
               landed safe at <hi rend="italic">Dover,</hi> the fourteenth of <hi rend="italic">January,</hi> after having had a
               severely cold Season to travel in.</p>
            <p>I was now come to the Center of my Travels, and had in a little Time all my new
               discover'd Estate safe about me, the Bills of Exchange which
               I brought with me having been very currently paid.</p>
            <p>My principal Guide, and Privy Councellor, was my good antient Widow, who in Gratitude
               for the Money I had sent her, thought no Pains too much, or Care too great, to employ
               for me; and I trusted her so entirely with every Thing, that I was perfectly easy as to the Security of my Effects; and indeed, I was very happy from my Beginning, and now to the
               End, in the unspotted Integrity of this good Gentlewoman.</p>
            <p>And now I began to think of leaving my Effects with this Woman, and setting out for
                  <hi rend="italic">Lisbon,</hi> and so to the <hi rend="italic">Brasils</hi>; but now another Scruple came in
               my Way, and that was Religion; for as I had entertain'd some
               Doubts about the <hi rend="italic">Roman</hi> Religion, even while I was abroad, especially in my
               State of Solitude; so I knew there was no going to the <ref target="catholicbrazil_" corresp="catholicbrazil">
                                <hi rend="italic">Brasils</hi>
                            </ref>
                            <note resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff" xml:id="catholicbrazil" target="catholicbrazil_">Brazil, being a Portuguese colony, would have been Catholic at the time. Source:
                  <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                            </note> for me, much less going to settle there, unless I
               resolv'd to embrace the <hi rend="italic">Roman</hi> Catholick Religion, without any Reserve;
               unless on the other hand, I resolv'd to be a Sacrifice to my Principles, be a Martyr
               for Religion, and die in the Inquisition; so <pb n="361"/>
               I resolv'd to stay at Home, and if I could find. Means for it, to dispose of my
               Plantation.</p>
            <p>To this Purpose I wrote to my old Friend at <hi rend="italic">Lisbon,</hi> who in Return gave me
               Notice, that he could easily dispose of it there: But that if I thought fit to give
               him Leave to offer it in my Name to the two Merchants, the Survivors of my Trustees,
               who liv'd in the <hi rend="italic">Brasils,</hi> who must fully understand the Value of it, who
               liv'd just upon the Spot, and who I knew were very rich; so that he believ'd they
               would be fond of buying it; he did not doubt, but I should make 4 or 5000 Pieces of
               Eight, the more of it.</p>
            <p>Accordingly I agreed, gave him Order to offer it to them, and he did so; and in about
               8 Months more, the Ship being then return'd, he sent me Account, that they had
               accepted the Offer, and had remitted 33000 Pieces of Eight, to a Correspondent of theirs at <hi rend="italic">Lisbon,</hi> to pay for it.</p>
            <p>In Return, I sign'd the Instrument of Sale in the Form which they sent from
                  <hi rend="italic">Lisbon,</hi> and sent it to my old Man, who sent me Bills of Exchange for
               328000 Pieces of Eight to me, for the Estate; reserving the
               Payment of 100 Moidores a Year to him, the old Man, during his Life, and 50 Moidores afterwards to his Son for his Life, which I had
               promised them, which the Plantation was to make good as a Rent-Charge. And thus I
               have given the first Part of a Life of Fortune and Adventure, a Life of Providences Checquer-Work, and of a Variety which the World will
               seldom be able to show the like of: Beginning foolishly, but closing much more
               happily than any Part of it ever gave me Leave so much as to hope for.</p>
            <p>Any one would think, that in this State of complicated good
               Fortune, I was past running any more Hazards; and so indeed I had been, if other <pb n="362"/> Circumstances had concurr'd, but I was inur'd
               to a wandring Life, had no Family, not many Relations, nor
               however rich had I contracted much Acquaintance; and though
               I had sold my Estate in the <hi rend="italic">Brasils,</hi> yet I could not keep the Country out of
               my Head, and had a great Mind to be upon the Wing again, especially I could not
               resist the strong Inclination I had to see my Island, and to know if the poor
                  <hi rend="italic">Spaniards</hi> were in Being there, and how the Rogues I left there had used
               them.</p>
            <p>My true Friend, the Widow, earnestly diswaded me from it,
               and so far prevail'd with me, that for almost seven Years she prevented my running
               Abroad; during which time, I took my two Nephews, the Children of one of my Sisters
                  into my Care: The eldest having something of his own, I
               bred up as a Gentleman, and gave him a Settlement of some Addition to his Estate,
               after my Decease; the other I put out to a Captain of a
               Ship; and after five Years, finding him a sensible bold enterprising young Fellow, I
               put him into a good Ship, and sent him to Sea: And this young Fellow afterwards drew
               me in, as old as I was, to farther Adventures my self.</p>
            <p>In the mean time, I in Part settled my self here; for first of all I marry'd, and
               that not either to my Disadvantage or Dissatisfaction, and had three Children, two
               Sons and one Daughter: But my Wife dying, and my Nephew coming Home with good Success
               from a Voyage to <hi rend="italic">Spain,</hi> my Inclination to go
               Abroad, and his Importunity prevailed and engag'd me to go in his Ship, as a private
               Trader to the <hi rend="italic">East Indies:</hi> This was in the Year 1694.</p>
            <p>In this Voyage I visited my new Collony in the Island, saw my Successors the
                  <hi rend="italic">Spaniards,</hi> had the whole Story of their Lives, and of the Villains I left
               there; how at first they insulted the poor <hi rend="italic">Spaniards,</hi>
               <pb n="363"/> how they afterwards agreed, disagreed, united, separated, and how at last the <hi rend="italic">Spaniards</hi>
               were oblig'd to use Violence with them, how they were subjected to the
                  <hi rend="italic">Spaniards,</hi> how honestly the <hi rend="italic">Spaniards</hi> used them; a History, if
               it were entred into, as full of Variety and wonderful Accidents, as my own Part,
               particularly also as to their Battles with the <hi rend="italic">Carribeans,</hi> who landed
               several times upon the Island, and as to the Improvement they made upon the Island it
               self, and how five of them made an Attempt upon the main Land, and brought away
               eleven Men and five Women Prisoners, by which, at my coming, I found about twenty
               young Children on the Island.</p>
            <p>Here I stay'd about 20 Days, left them Supplies of all
               necessary things, and particularly of Arms, Powder, Shot, Cloaths, Tools, and two
               Workmen, which I brought from <hi rend="italic">England</hi> with me, <hi rend="italic">viz.</hi> a Carpenter and
               a Smith.</p>
            <p>Besides this, I shar'd the Island into Parts with 'em, reserv'd to my self the
               Property of the whole, but gave them such Parts respectively as they agreed on; and having settled all things with them, and
               engaged them not to leave the Place, I left them there.</p>
            <p>From thence I touch'd at the <hi rend="italic">Brasils,</hi> from whence I sent a Bark, which I
               bought there, with more People to the Island, and in it, besides other Supplies, I sent seven Women, being such as I found proper for
               Service, or for Wives to such as would take them: As to the <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Men, I
               promis'd them to send them some Women from <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> with a good Cargoe of
               Necessaries, if they would apply themselves to Planting, which I afterwards perform'd. And the Fellows prov'd very honest and diligent
               after they were master'd, and had their Properties set apart for them. I sent them
                  <pb n="364"/> also from the <placeName type="tgn" key="1000047">
                                <hi rend="italic">Brasils</hi>
                            </placeName> five Cows,
               three of them being big with Calf, some Sheep, and some
               Hogs, which, when I came again, were considerably encreas'd.</p>
            <p>But all these things, with an Account how 300 <hi rend="italic">Caribbees</hi> came and invaded
               them, and ruin'd their Plantations, and how they fought with that whole Number twice,
               and were at first defeated, and three of them kill'd; but at last a Storm destroying
               their Enemies Cannoes, they famish'd or destroy'd almost all the rest, and renew'd
               and recover'd the Possession of their Plantation, and still liv'd upon the
               Island.</p>
            <p>All these things, with some very surprizing Incidents in
               some new Adventures of my own, for ten Years more, I may perhaps give a farther Account of hereafter.</p>
            <trailer>FINIS.</trailer>
         </div>
      </body>
  
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               <name ref="editors.xml#LD">Leane Dondapati</name>
               <name ref="editors.xml#LD">Tonya Howe</name>
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            <!-- This element expresses the publication details of this particular etext. -->
            <publisher>Literature in Context</publisher>
            <!-- Do not alter. -->
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               <addrLine>Arlington, VA </addrLine>
               <addrLine>22207</addrLine>
               <addrLine>thowe@marymount.edu</addrLine>
               <!-- Add your email address.  -->
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               <!-- All texts are licensed under this license. Individual images contained in notes should indicate source information and usage rights in line.  -->
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                  <!-- This element expresses source information for the larger whole (a novel, or the larger book from which your poem was drawn).  -->
                  <author>
                     <forename>William</forename>
                     <surname>Shakespeare</surname>
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                  <title type="sub">Mr. William Shakespeares comedies, histories, &amp; tragedies:
                     published according to the true originall copies.</title>
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                                            <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName>
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                     <publisher>Printed by Isaac Iaggard, and Ed. Blount</publisher>
                     <!-- Insert publisher of earliest/first edition. -->
                     <date when="1623">1623</date>
                     <!-- Insert date of earliest/first edition. Note the attribute @when. -->
                     <!-- Add as many or as few note elements here as necessary. If the note has been drawn from a particular source, as here, indicate that as modeled. -->
                     <note>Page images are drawn from the First Folio copy 68 held by the Folger
                        Shakespeare Library, available at <ref target="https://www.folger.edu/the-shakespeare-first-folio-folger-copy-no-68">https://www.folger.edu/the-shakespeare-first-folio-folger-copy-no-68</ref>.
                        For more information about the First Folio, visit the Folger Shakespeare
                        Library page <ref target="https://www.folger.edu/shakespeare/first-folio">https://www.folger.edu/shakespeare/first-folio</ref>.</note>
                     <!-- Always add a note clarifying where your page images are drawn from, and be sure to indicate permissions. -->
                     <!-- If links are available, indicate them using this model. -->
                  </imprint>
                  <imprint>
                     <!-- Indicate any other imprint "witnesses" used in the construction of this digital edition, including any existing XML, plaintext, or other documents used directly. -->
                     <pubPlace>Online</pubPlace>
                     <publisher>iBiblio</publisher>
                     <date>1999</date>
                     <note>Base xml for this digital edition drawn from <ref target="https://www.ibiblio.org/xml/examples/shakespeare/tempest.xml">
                           https://www.ibiblio.org/xml/examples/shakespeare/tempest.xml</ref>.</note>
                     <note>
                        <p>Text placed in the public domain by Moby Lexical Tools, 1992. Original
                           SGML markup by Jon Bosak, 1992-1994. XML version by Jon Bosak, 1996-1998.
                           XML updated for LiC guidelines, 2022. Page breaks have been added
                           according to the First Folio. Line numbers have been added according to
                           the Riverside Shakespeare (1974).</p>
                     </note>
                  </imprint>
                  <extent> 34 cm. (fol.)</extent>
                  <!-- Indicate the physical size and shape of the earliest/first edition. Often, this information is available in the catalog record for that item. -->
                  <!-- Indicate any information about the location of the analytic/contained text in the larger container here; multiple biblScope elements are permissible. Delete unused. -->
                  <biblScope>pp 1-19</biblScope>
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         <langUsage>
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         <creation/>
         <!-- This element indicates when the text was composed, if known. For more information on the profileDesc, see TEI P5 guidelines.  -->

         <textDesc n="play">
            <!-- Acceptable values include novel, novella, poem, essay. -->
            <channel mode="w">print</channel>
            <!-- This element and attribute expresses that this text was WRITTEN, and the enclosed text "print" provides further information that this was printed. A written text might also be a manuscript. If you are working with a manuscript, see the TEI P5 guidelines on msDesc. The msDesc element must occur within the sourceDesc element. At this time, however, LiC is set up to privilege print. -->
            <constitution type="single"/>
            <!-- See the textDesc guidelines for valid values. Usually, constitution will be single; however, there may be cases where you are excerpting and combining parts of a longer text, as one often finds in print anthologies. In that case, use FRAGS. -->
            <derivation type="original"/>
            <!-- See the textDesc guidelines for sample values. Usually, derivation will be original; however, in the event of an adaptation of an earlier source, you might use another value, like ABRIDGEMENT, REVISION, or TRANSLATION. -->
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            <factuality type="fiction"/>
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            <setting>
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               This project is funded by the National Endowment for the Humanities and developed by
               faculty at The University of Virginia and Marymount University. </p>
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         <editorialDecl>
            <interpretation>
               <p>Research informing these annotations draws on publicly-accessible resources, with
                  links provided where possible. Annotations also include common knowledge, defined
                  as information that can be found in multiple reliable sources. If you notice an
                  error in these annotations, please contact lic.open.anthology@gmail.com. </p>
            </interpretation>
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               <p>Base text for this edition of <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi> uses public domain
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                  with square brackets. </p>
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                  not. Where pages break in the middle of a word, the complete word has been
                  indicated prior to the page beginning. When it is unclear where a line ends, or
                  whether the text is in prose or poetry, modern editions have been consulted.</p>
            </segmentation>
            <correction>
               <p>Line
                  breaks, numbering, stage directions, and textual emendations have been made to ensure that this edition corresponds with the Rivierside
                  Shakespeare edition of <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi>.</p>
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         <change when="2019-05-24" who="editors.xml#TH">Added explanatory comments to
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   <text>
      <front>
         <pb n="[TP]" facs="pageImages/TP.png"/>
         <titlePage>
            <docTitle>
               <titlePart>
                  <lb/>MR. WILLIAM<lb/>SHAKESPEARES<lb/>COMEDIES,<lb/> HISTORIES, &amp;<lb/>
                  TRAGEDIES.<lb/> Published according to the True Originall Copies.<lb/>
               </titlePart>
            </docTitle>
            <docImprint>
               <pubPlace>
                  <hi rend="italic">
                                    <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName>
                                </hi>
                  <lb/>
               </pubPlace>
               <publisher>Printed by <persName type="lcnaf" key="nr98029102">
                                    <name>Isaac
                        Jaggard</name>
                                </persName>, and <persName type="lcnaf" key="n85084618">
                                    <name>Ed. Blount</name>
                                </persName>.<lb/>
                            </publisher>
               <docDate when="1623">1623.</docDate>
            </docImprint>
         </titlePage>
         <set>
            <p>The Scene, [A ship at sea and] <ref target="island_" corresp="island">an uninhabited
                  Island</ref>
                            <note xml:id="island" target="island_" resp="editors.xml#TH">During
                  the early modern period, knowledge of the world was expanding greatly. It is
                  likely, given the plot of the tale, that the fictional Island Prospero is stranded
                  on is somewhere in the Mediterranean sea. Throughout the play, you will note
                  references to many places across the globe, including Tunisia, Algeria, the Island
                  of Bermuda, and "Arabia." By 1611, when <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi> was
                  first performed, England had established colonies in the Americas; the Spanish and
                  Portuguese were the most powerful imperial force in Western Europe, until the 1588
                  defeat of the Spanish Armada, which marked the rise of the early British Empire.
                  The 16th and 17th centuries are often thought of as an age of exploration;
                  explorers traveled the world, bringing back strange objects and stories to spur
                  scientific discovery and commerce, including the traffic in human beings. People
                  during Shakespeare’s time lived during an era that also saw the wide dissemination
                  of maps helped by the invention of the printing press. Through cartography, people
                  could visually comprehend the geographical layout of lands familiar and new. To
                  learn more about exploration and map-making in the early modern period, see the
                  Folger Shakespeare Library's exhibition site, "<ref target="https://folgerpedia.folger.edu/Mapping_Early_Modern_Worlds#City_and_Road_Maps">Mapping Early Modern Worlds</ref>. </note>.</p>
         </set>
         <castList>
            <p>Names of the actors</p>
            <castItem>
                            <persName type="lcnaf" key="n2022062309">
                                <name>Alonso</name>
                            </persName>, King
               of <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName>
                        </castItem>
            <castItem>Sebastian his brother</castItem>
            <castItem>Prospero, the right Duke of <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName>
                        </castItem>
            <castItem>
                            <persName type="lcnaf" key="n2022064459">
                                <name>Antonio</name>
                            </persName>, his
               brother the usurping Duke of <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName>
                        </castItem>
            <castItem>Ferdinand, son to the King of <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName>
                        </castItem>
            <castItem>Gonzalo, an honest old Counsellor</castItem>
            <castItem>Adrian and Francisco, Lords</castItem>
            <castItem>
                            <persName type="lcnaf" key="nb2022015944">
                                <name>Caliban</name>
                            </persName>, a
               savage and deformed Slave</castItem>
            <castItem>Trinculo, a Jester</castItem>
            <castItem>Stephano, a drunken Butler</castItem>
            <castItem>Master of a Ship </castItem>
            <castItem>Boatswain </castItem>
            <castItem>Mariners </castItem>
            <castItem>Miranda, daughter to Prospero</castItem>
            <castItem>Ariel, an airy Spirit</castItem>
            <castItem>Iris, Ceres, Juno, Nymphs, Reapers, [presenting] Spirits</castItem>
         </castList>
      </front>
      <body>
         <pb n="1" facs="pageImages/001.png"/>
         <head type="title">The Tempest</head>
         <div n="1" type="act">
            <div n="1" type="scene">
               <head type="sub">Act I, Scene I.</head>
               <stage>A tempestuous noise of <ref target="thunder_" corresp="thunder">thunder and
                     lightning</ref>
                  <note xml:id="thunder" target="thunder_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#LD">In
                     1611, when Shakespeare's <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi> was first
                     performed, theatres used a mechanism known as a thunder machine, which was
                     essentially a long wooden box balanced like a seesaw, containing a large cannon
                     ball that when rolled around produced a loud noise resembling thunder. To
                     create the effect of lightening, stage hands would prepare powdered resin which
                     would be thrown onto a flame. Lighting a firecracker attached to a wire
                     extending from the roof of the stage to the floor would create the illusion of
                     a lightening bolt (<ref target="https://www.shakespearesglobe.com/discover/shakespeares-world/special-effects/">"Special Effects"</ref>).</note>. Enter a Ship-master and a
                  Boatswain</stage>

               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Master</speaker>
                  <l n="1">
                     <ref target="boatswain_" corresp="boatswain">Boatswain!</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="boatswain" target="boatswain_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#LD">Pronounced "bosun," a boatswain is the person who
                        manages the crew of a ship and the ship's equipment (OED n.1).</note>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Boatswain</speaker>
                  <l n="2">Here, master: what cheer? </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Master</speaker>
                  <l n="3">Good, speak to the mariners: fall to't, <ref target="yarely_" corresp="yarely">yarely</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="yarely" target="yarely_" resp="editors.xml#LD">Now archaic, yarely derives from the Old English and
                        means quick or nimble action (OED adv).</note>, </l>
                  <l n="4">or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir. </l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exit</stage>
               <stage>Enter Mariners</stage>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Boatswain</speaker>
                  <l n="5">Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! </l>
                  <l n="6">yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to the </l>
                  <l n="7">master's whistle. Blow, <ref target="burst_" corresp="burst">till thou
                        burst thy wind</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="burst" target="burst_" resp="editors.xml#LD">Here, the boatswain is directly addressing the
                        tempest, challenging it to rage until it is out of wind, possibly in an
                        attempt to encourage the men on deck to remain strong.</note>,</l>
                  <l n="8">if room enough! </l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Ferdinand, Gonzalo, and others</stage>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="9">Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master? </l>
                  <l n="10">
                                    <ref target="play_" corresp="play">Play the men</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="play" target="play_" resp="editors.xml#LD">According to the OED (I.1), "play" in this sense was
                        used as an intransitive verb in the 1400s, meaning to engage something or
                        someone in activity. Here, Alonso commands the boatswain to
                        put his crew to work.</note>. </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Boatswain</speaker>
                  <l n="11">I pray now, keep below. </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="12">Where is the master, boatswain? </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Boatswain</speaker>
                  <l n="13">Do you not hear him? You mar our labour: keep your</l>
                  <l n="14">cabins: you do assist the storm. </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="15">Nay, good, be patient. </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Boatswain</speaker>
                  <l n="16">When the sea is. Hence! What cares these roarers </l>
                  <l n="17">for the name of king? To cabin: silence! trouble us not. </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="18">Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard. </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Boatswain</speaker>
                  <l n="19">None that I more love than myself. You are a </l>
                  <l n="20">counsellor; if you can command these elements to </l>
                  <l n="21">silence, and work the peace of the present, we will </l>
                  <l n="22">not hand a rope more; use your authority: if you </l>
                  <l n="23">cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and make </l>
                  <l n="24">yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of </l>
                  <l n="25">the hour, if it so hap. Cheerly, good hearts! Out</l>
                  <l n="26">of our way, I say. </l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exit</stage>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="27">I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks he</l>
                  <l n="28">hath no <ref target="mark_" corresp="mark">drowning mark</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="mark" target="mark_" resp="editors.xml#LD">Gonzalo takes comfort
                        from his belief that the boatswain's destiny in death is fated for the
                        gallows (death by hanging), which disqualifies him for a death caused by
                        drowning.</note> upon him; his complexion is</l>
                  <l n="29">perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his </l>
                  <l n="30">hanging: make the rope of his destiny our cable, </l>
                  <l n="31">for our own doth little advantage. If he be not </l>
                  <l n="32">born to be hanged, our case is miserable. </l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exeunt</stage>
               <stage>Re-enter Boatswain</stage>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Boatswain</speaker>
                  <l n="33">Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring </l>
                  <l n="34">her to try with main-course. </l>
                  <stage>A cry within</stage>
                  <l n="35">A plague upon this howling! they are louder than </l>
                  <l n="36">the weather or our office. </l>
                  <stage>Re-enter Sebastian, Antonio, and Gonzalo</stage>
                  <l n="37">Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o'er</l>
                  <l n="38">and drown? Have you a mind to sink? </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="39">A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous,</l>
                  <l n="40">incharitable dog! </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Boatswain</speaker>
                  <l n="41">Work you then. </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="42">Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker! </l>
                  <l n="43">We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art. </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="44">I'll warrant him for drowning; though the ship were </l>
                  <l n="45">no stronger than a nutshell and as leaky as an </l>
                  <l n="46">
                                    <ref target="unstanched_" corresp="unstanched">unstanched
                        wench</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="unstanched" target="unstanched_" resp="editors.xml#LD">Gonzalo is comparing the ship to "an / unstanched
                        wench." According to Shakespeare Navigator, which draws on the OED
                        definition of "staunch," calling the boat an "unstanched wench" may be
                        comparing the boat to a woman (a "wench") on her menstrual cycle. However,
                        the verb "stanch" also suggests satisfying a desire (OED v3a), and it
                        derives from the Old French that also means to make a ship
                        watertight.</note>. </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Boatswain</speaker>
                  <l n="47">Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set her <ref target="courses_" corresp="courses">two courses</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="courses" target="courses_" resp="editors.xml#MUStudStaff">The Boatswain calls for the ship to be directed "two
                        courses off to / sea." According to the OED, "two courses" has a specific
                        nautical meaning, referring to the points on the compass where the ship is
                        directed (course, n. 12a-b). </note> off to </l>
                  <l n="48">sea again; lay her off. </l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Enter Mariners wet</stage>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Mariners</speaker>
                  <l n="49">All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost! </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Boatswain</speaker>
                  <l n="50">What, must our <ref target="cold_" corresp="cold">mouths be
                        cold</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="cold" target="cold_" resp="editors.xml#LD">According
                        to the Arden Shakespeare edition of <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi>, the
                        boatswain is wondering if, even if after all his efforts, the sailors must
                        drown, or have their mouths become cold from drowning.</note>? </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="51">The king and prince at prayers! let's assist them, </l>
                  <l n="52">For our case is as theirs. </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="53">I'm out of patience. </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="54">We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards: </l>
                  <l n="55">This wide-chapp'd rascal--would thou mightst lie drowning </l>
                  <l n="56">The <ref target="tide_" corresp="tide">washing of ten tides</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="tide" target="tide_" resp="editors.xml#LD">The washing of a tide is
                        the act of sea water flowing up the shore during a high tide (OED, wash,
                        III.12b). The Arden edition of <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi> notes that pirates would be
                        condemned to hang at the shore for the length of three tides. Antonio here
                        is extending that length of time for the boatswain, whom he imagines would
                        "lie drowning / [for the] washing of ten tides."</note>! </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="57">He'll be hang'd yet,</l>
                  <l n="58">Though every drop of water swear against it </l>
                  <l n="59">And gape at widest to glut him. </l>
               </sp>
               <stage>A confused noise within: 'Mercy on us!'-- '<ref target="split_" corresp="split">We split</ref>
                  <note xml:id="split" target="split_" resp="editors.xml#LD">The ship is splitting
                     in half.</note>, we split!'--'Farewell, my wife and children!'-- 'Farewell,
                  brother!'--'We split, we split, we split!'</stage>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="60">Let's all sink with the king. </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="61">Let's take leave of him. </l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exeunt Antonio and Sebastian</stage>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="62">Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an </l>
                  <l n="63">acre of barren ground, long heath, brown furze, any </l>
                  <l n="64">thing. The wills above be done! but I would fain </l>
                  <l n="65">die a dry death. </l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exeunt</stage>
            </div>

            <div type="scene">
               <head type="sub">Scene II. [The island. Before Prospero's cell.]</head>
               <stage>Enter Prospero and Miranda</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l n="1">If <ref target="Dee_" corresp="Dee">by your art, my dearest
                        father</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Dee" target="Dee_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#MUStudStaff">
                                        <graphic url="notes/british-museum-john-dees-37447001.jpeg" alt="Photograph showing alchemical items belonging to John Dee, used in early modern magic, from the British Library." desc="Dee's spirit mirror and other alchemical objects" source="https://www.bl.uk/collection-items/john-dees-spirit-mirror"/>It is often thought
                        that Prospero was modeled by Shakespeare on <persName type="lcnaf" key="n79006490">
                                            <name>John Dee</name>
                                        </persName>, a well-known polymath,
                        magus, and advisor to Queen Elizabeth I. According to the <ref target="https://www.bl.uk/shakespeare/articles/prospero-a-renaissance-magus">British Library</ref>, a magus someone who "understands the cosmos and
                        man's place in it [sic]" through knowledge and experimentation in fields
                        such as chemistry (then alchemy), mathematics, astrology, and hermetic
                        studies of religion and culture. A "controversial figure" and force of both
                        good and evil, the magus sought to attain ultimate wisdom about the working
                        of the universe. The image included here, from <ref target="https://www.bl.uk/collection-items/john-dees-spirit-mirror">the
                           British Library</ref>, shows (right to left) Dee’s spirit mirror
                        showstone, a crystal ball, mystically engraved wax discs, a wooden case, and
                        an engraved gold disc illustrating a vision of Dee’s colleague, Edward
                        Kelley. Dee's "<ref target="https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/articles/3hr5btNfdWHkgdcpD1jfwnC/transcript-shakespeares-restless-world-programme-9">showstone</ref>' was a reflective piece of volcanic ash he would use to
                        conjure and converse with angels, recording his conversations into his
                        ‘angelic diaries’. As an advisor to <persName type="lcnaf" key="n79081709">
                                            <name>Queen Elizabeth I</name>
                                        </persName>, Dee advocated for imperial
                        expansion into the New World. To learn more about Dee's advocacy of the
                        British Empire in the Atlantic, see Glyn Parry's scholarly article, <ref target="https://www.jstor.org/stable/4091576">"John Dee and the
                           Elizabethan British Empire in Its European Context."</ref>
                                    </note>, you
                     have</l>
                  <l n="2">Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.</l>
                  <l n="3">The sky, it seems, would pour down <ref target="stinking_" corresp="stinking">stinking pitch</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="stinking" target="stinking_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Miranda here imagines
                        the stormy sky raining "stinking pitch" instead of water. Pitch is a resin
                        commonly used for waterproofing boats.</note>,</l>
                  <l n="4">But that the sea, mounting to the <ref target="welkin_" corresp="welkin">welkin's cheek</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="welkin" target="welkin_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">The welkin is a poetic and now archaic term referring
                        to the sky. Miranda uses figurative language to describe the the height of
                        the waves, which "[mount or rise] to the welkin's cheek."</note>,</l>
                  <l n="5">Dashes the <ref target="fire_" corresp="fire">fire</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="fire" target="fire_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">The
                        lightening.</note> out. O, I have suffered</l>
                  <l n="6">With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel,</l>
                  <pb n="2" facs="pageImages/002.png"/>
                  <l n="7">Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her,</l>
                  <l n="8">Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock</l>
                  <l n="9">Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish'd.</l>
                  <l n="10">Had I been any god of power, I would</l>
                  <l n="11">Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere</l>
                  <l n="12">It should the good ship so have swallow'd and</l>
                  <l n="13">The fraughting souls within her.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Be collected:</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="14">No more amazement: tell your piteous heart</l>
                  <l n="15">There's no harm done.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">O, woe the day!</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent2">No harm.</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="16">I have done nothing but in care of thee,</l>
                  <l n="17">Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who</l>
                  <l n="18">Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing</l>
                  <l n="19">Of whence I am, nor that I am more better</l>
                  <l n="20">Than Prospero, master of a full poor <ref target="cell_" corresp="cell">cell</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="cell" target="cell_" resp="editors.xml#LD" type="gloss">A very small or humble dwelling.</note>,</l>
                  <l n="21">And thy no greater father.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">More to know</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="22">Did never meddle with my thoughts.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent2">'Tis time</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="23">I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,</l>
                  <l n="24">And pluck my magic garment from me. So:</l>
                  <stage>Lays down his mantle</stage>
                  <l n="25">
                                    <ref target="art_" corresp="art">Lie there, my art.</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="art" target="art_" resp="editors.xml#LD" type="gloss">Prospero is
                        speaking to his robe, calling it his "art," and suggesting to us that the
                        robe is lain down on some surface by Miranda.</note>. Wipe thou thine eyes;
                     have comfort.</l>
                  <l n="26">The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd</l>
                  <l n="27">The very virtue of compassion in thee,</l>
                  <l n="28">I have with such provision in mine art</l>
                  <l n="29">So safely ordered that there is no soul--</l>
                  <l n="30">No, not so much perdition as an hair</l>
                  <l n="31">
                                    <ref target="betid_" corresp="betid">Betid</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="betid" target="betid_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Befell or happened to
                        (OED).</note> to any creature in the vessel</l>
                  <l n="32">Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit down;</l>
                  <l n="33">For thou must now know farther.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">You have often</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="34">Begun to tell me what I am, but stopp'd</l>
                  <l n="35">And left me to a <ref target="bootless_" corresp="bootless">bootless
                        inquisition</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="bootless" target="bootless_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Ineffective questioning (OED).</note>,</l>
                  <l n="36">Concluding 'stay: not yet.'</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">The hour's now come;</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="37">The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;</l>
                  <l n="38">Obey and be attentive. Canst thou remember</l>
                  <l n="39">A time before we came unto this cell?</l>
                  <l n="40">I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not</l>
                  <l n="41">Out three years old.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Certainly, sir, I can.</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="">By what? by any other house or person?</l>
                  <l n="42">Of any thing the image tell me that</l>
                  <l n="43">Hath kept with thy remembrance.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">'Tis far off</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="44">And rather like a dream than an assurance</l>
                  <l n="45">That my remembrance warrants. Had I not</l>
                  <l n="46">Four or five women once that tended me?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="47">Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it</l>
                  <l n="48">That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else</l>
                  <l n="49">In the dark backward and <ref target="abysm_" corresp="abysm">abysm</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="abysm" target="abysm_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">An immense depth, a chasm which seems to have no end
                        (OED).</note> of time?</l>
                  <l n="50">If thou remember'st <ref target="aught_" corresp="aught">aught
                        ere</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="aught" target="aught_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Aught is an archaic adverb which means "to any extent,
                        in any respect, at all" (OED C.1), and "ere" means before or formerly (OED
                        4.a).</note> thou camest here,</l>
                  <l n="51">How thou camest here thou mayst.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">But that I do not.</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="52">Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,</l>
                  <l n="53">Thy father was the Duke of <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName> and</l>
                  <l n="54">A prince of power.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Sir, are not you my father?</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="55">Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and</l>
                  <l n="56">She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father</l>
                  <l n="57">Was Duke of <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName>; and thou his only heir</l>
                  <l n="58">And princess no worse issued.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">O the heavens!</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="59">What foul play had we, that we came from thence?</l>
                  <l n="60">Or blessed was't we did?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Both, both, my girl:</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="61">By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heaved thence,</l>
                  <l n="62">But blessedly <ref target="holp_" corresp="holp">holp</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="holp" target="holp_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">This is the
                        past participle of the word "help," spelled this way from the 14th to the
                        17th century (OED).</note> hither.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">O, my heart bleeds</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="63">To think o' the <ref target="teen_" corresp="teen">teen</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="teen" target="teen_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Now rarely
                        used, teen is a noun that refers to suffering or pain (OED n. 2a).</note>
                     that I have turn'd you to,</l>
                  <l n="64">Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="65">My brother and thy uncle, call'd Antonio--</l>
                  <l n="66">I pray thee, mark me--that a brother should</l>
                  <l n="67">Be so perfidious!--he whom next thyself</l>
                  <l n="68">Of all the world I loved and to him put</l>
                  <l n="69">The manage of my state; as at that time</l>
                  <l n="70">Through all the <ref target="signories_" corresp="signories">signories</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="signories" target="signories_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD"> A historical term referring to governing bodies or
                        assemblies specifically of an Italian state (OED n, 5).</note> it was the
                     first</l>
                  <l n="71">And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed</l>
                  <l n="72">In dignity, and for the liberal arts</l>
                  <l n="73">Without a parallel; those being all my study,</l>
                  <l n="74">The government I cast upon my brother</l>
                  <l n="75">And to my state grew stranger, being transported</l>
                  <l n="76">And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle--</l>
                  <l n="77">Dost thou attend me?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Sir, most heedfully.</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="78">Being once perfected how to grant suits,</l>
                  <l n="79">How to deny them, who to advance and who</l>
                  <l n="80">To trash for over-topping, new created</l>
                  <l n="81">The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em,</l>
                  <l n="82">Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key</l>
                  <l n="83">Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state</l>
                  <l n="84">To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was</l>
                  <l n="85">The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,</l>
                  <l n="86">And suck'd my <ref target="verdure_" corresp="verdure">verdure</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="verdure" target="verdure_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD"> According to the OED, this refers to the freshness of
                        a flourishing green plant.</note> out on't. Thou attend'st not.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l n="87">O, good sir, I do.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">I pray thee, mark me.</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="88">I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated</l>
                  <l n="89">To closeness and the bettering of my mind</l>
                  <l n="90">With that which, but by being so retired,</l>
                  <l n="91">O'er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother</l>
                  <l n="92">Awaked an evil nature; and my trust,</l>
                  <l n="93">Like a good parent, did beget of him</l>
                  <l n="94">A falsehood in its contrary as great</l>
                  <l n="95">As my trust was; which had indeed no limit,</l>
                  <l n="96">A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded,</l>
                  <l n="97">Not only with what my revenue yielded,</l>
                  <l n="98">But what my power might else exact, like one</l>
                  <l n="99">Who having into truth, by telling of it,</l>
                  <l n="100">Made such a sinner of his memory,</l>
                  <l n="101">To credit his own lie, he did believe</l>
                  <l n="102">He was indeed the duke; out o' the substitution</l>
                  <l n="103">And executing the outward face of royalty,</l>
                  <l n="104">With all prerogative: hence his ambition growing--</l>
                  <l n="105">Dost thou hear?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="106">To have no screen between this part he play'd</l>
                  <l n="107">And him he play'd it for, he needs will be</l>
                  <l n="108">Absolute <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName>. Me, poor man, my library</l>
                  <l n="109">Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties</l>
                  <l n="110">He thinks me now incapable; confederates--</l>
                  <l n="111">So dry he was for sway--wi' the King of <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName>
                                </l>
                  <l n="112">To give him annual tribute, do him homage,</l>
                  <l n="113">Subject his coronet to his crown and bend</l>
                  <l n="114">The dukedom yet unbow'd--alas, poor <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName>!--</l>
                  <l n="115">To most <ref target="ignoble_" corresp="ignoble">ignoble</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="ignoble" target="ignoble_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">According to the OED, ignoble is defined as being dishonorable in terms of
                        character or intent.</note> stooping.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">O the heavens!</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="116">Mark his condition and the event; then tell me</l>
                  <l n="117">If this might be a brother.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">I should sin</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="118">To think but nobly of my grandmother:</l>
                  <pb n="3" facs="pageImages/003.png"/>
                  <l n="119">Good wombs have borne bad sons.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Now the condition.</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="120">The King of <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName>, being an enemy</l>
                  <l n="121">To me <ref target="inveterate_" corresp="inveterate">inveterate</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="inveterate" target="inveterate_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD"> Entrenched, long-standing, persistent, with the
                        suggestion of disease (OED).</note>, hearkens my brother's suit;</l>
                  <l n="122">Which was, that he, in lieu o' the premises</l>
                  <l n="123">Of homage and I know not how much tribute,</l>
                  <l n="124">Should presently extirpate me and mine</l>
                  <l n="125">Out of the dukedom and confer fair <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName>
                                </l>
                  <l n="126">With all the honours on my brother: whereon,</l>
                  <l n="127">A treacherous army levied, one midnight</l>
                  <l n="128">Fated to the purpose did Antonio open</l>
                  <l n="129">The gates of <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName>, and, i' the dead of darkness,</l>
                  <l n="130">The ministers for the purpose hurried thence</l>
                  <l n="131">Me and thy crying self.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Alack, for pity!</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="132">I, not remembering how I cried out then,</l>
                  <l n="133">Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint</l>
                  <l n="134">That wrings mine eyes to't.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>Hear a little further</l>
                  <l n="135">And then I'll bring thee to the present business</l>
                  <l n="136">Which now's upon's; without the which this story</l>
                  <l n="137">Were most impertinent.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Wherefore did they not</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="138">That hour destroy us?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Well demanded, wench:</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="139">My tale provokes that question. Dear, they <ref target="durst_" corresp="durst">durst</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="durst" target="durst_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD"> An archaic past tense of the verb "to dare"
                        (OED).</note> not,</l>
                  <l n="140">So dear the love my people bore me, nor set</l>
                  <l n="141">A mark so bloody on the business, but</l>
                  <l n="142">With colours fairer painted their foul ends.</l>
                  <l n="143">In few, they hurried us aboard a <ref target="bark_" corresp="bark">bark</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="bark" target="bark_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A bark is a small boat.</note>,</l>
                  <l n="144">Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared</l>
                  <l n="145">A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd,</l>
                  <l n="146">Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats</l>
                  <l n="147">Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us,</l>
                  <l n="148">To cry to the sea that roar'd to us, to sigh</l>
                  <l n="149">To the winds whose pity, sighing back again,</l>
                  <l n="150">Did us but loving wrong.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Alack, what trouble</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="151">Was I then to you!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">O, a <ref target="cherubim_" corresp="cherubim">cherubim</ref>
                        <note xml:id="cherubim" target="cherubim_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A cherub is a biblical angel, with a related sense
                           common in the early 17th century that also means a beloved woman (OED n.
                           5b).</note>
                                    </hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="152">Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile.</l>
                  <l n="152">Infused with a fortitude from heaven,</l>
                  <l n="154">When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt,</l>
                  <l n="155">Under my <ref target="burthen_" corresp="burthen">burthen</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="burthen" target="burthen_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">An
                        alternative spelling of burden.</note> groan'd; which raised in me</l>
                  <l n="156">An undergoing stomach, to bear up</l>
                  <l n="157">Against what should ensue.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">How came we ashore?</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="158">By Providence divine.</l>
                  <l n="159">Some food we had and some fresh water that</l>
                  <l n="160">A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,</l>
                  <l n="161">Out of his charity, being then appointed</l>
                  <l n="162">Master of this design, did give us, with</l>
                  <l n="163">Rich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries,</l>
                  <l n="164">Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness,</l>
                  <l n="165">Knowing I loved my books, he furnish'd me</l>
                  <l n="166">From mine own library with volumes that</l>
                  <l n="167">I prize above my dukedom.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Would I might</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="168">But ever see that man!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="168" rend="indent">Now I arise:</l>
                  <stage>Resumes his mantle</stage>
                  <l n="169">Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.</l>
                  <l n="170">Here in this island we arrived; and here</l>
                  <l n="171">Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit</l>
                  <l n="172">Than other princesses can that have more time</l>
                  <l n="173">For vainer hours and tutors not so careful.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l n="174">Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you, sir,</l>
                  <l n="175">For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason</l>
                  <l n="176">For raising this sea-storm?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Know thus far forth.</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="177">By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,</l>
                  <l n="178">Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies</l>
                  <l n="179">Brought to this shore; and by my <ref target="prescience_" corresp="prescience">prescience</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="prescience" target="prescience_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Prescience is both a
                        quality attributed to God and the characteristic of foresight that a human
                        might possess (OED).</note>
                                </l>
                  <l n="180">I find my <ref target="zenith_" corresp="zenith">zenith</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="zenith" target="zenith_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A term
                        from astronomy, the zenith is the highest point the sun or moon reaches in
                        the sky (OED).</note> doth depend upon</l>
                  <l n="181">A most auspicious star, whose influence</l>
                  <l n="182">If now I court not but omit, my fortunes</l>
                  <l n="183">Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions:</l>
                  <l n="184">Thou art inclined to sleep; 'tis a good dulness,</l>
                  <l n="185">And <ref target="give_" corresp="give">give it way</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="give" target="give_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">The Arden
                        edition of <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi> glosses this as "succumb to it." Prospero is
                        commanding Miranda to fall asleep.</note>: I know thou canst not choose.</l>
                  <stage>Miranda sleeps</stage>
                  <l n="186">Come away, servant, come. I am ready now.</l>
                  <l n="187">Approach, my Ariel, come.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>
                  <ref target="ariel_" corresp="ariel">Enter Ariel</ref>
                  <note xml:id="ariel" target="ariel_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#LD">
                                    <graphic url="notes/DP859557.jpeg" alt="Late 18th century engraving showing Miranda, Prospero, Caliban, and Ariel" desc="Late 18th century engraving from the Metropolitan Museum of Art showing Miranda, Prospero, Caliban, and Ariel" source="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/365591"/>After Miranda falls asleep, Prospero is
                     typically understood to put his magical robe back on as Ariel comes onto the
                     stage. The image here, an engraving after Henry Fusili, shows a late 18th
                     century rendition of Miranda, Prospero, Caliban, and the airy spirit Ariel
                        (<ref target="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/365591">Metropolitan Museum of Art</ref>).</note>
               </stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="188">All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come</l>
                  <l n="189">To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,</l>
                  <l n="190">To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride</l>
                  <l n="191">On the curl'd clouds, to thy strong bidding task</l>
                  <l n="192">Ariel and all his quality.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Hast thou, spirit,</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="193">Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">To every article.</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="194">I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,</l>
                  <l n="195">Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,</l>
                  <l n="196">I flamed amazement: sometime I'ld divide,</l>
                  <l n="197">And burn in many places; on the topmast,</l>
                  <l n="198">The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,</l>
                  <l n="199">Then meet and join. <ref target="Joves_" corresp="Joves">Jove's
                        lightnings</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Joves" target="Joves_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Jove, more famously known as Jupiter, is the most
                        powerful Roman God and is known to overthrow his enemies using his bolt of
                        lightening. His Greek equivalent is Zeus. </note>, the precursors</l>
                  <l n="200">O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary</l>
                  <l n="201">And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracks</l>
                  <l n="202">Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune</l>
                  <l n="203">Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble,</l>
                  <l n="204">Yea, his dread trident shake.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">My brave spirit!</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="205">Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil</l>
                  <l n="206">Would not infect his reason?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Not a soul</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="207">But felt a fever of the mad and play'd</l>
                  <l n="208">Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners</l>
                  <l n="209">Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel,</l>
                  <l n="210">Then all afire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,</l>
                  <l n="211">With hair up-staring,--then like reeds, not hair,--</l>
                  <l n="212">Was the first man that leap'd; cried, 'Hell is empty</l>
                  <l n="213">And all the devils are here.'</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Why that's my spirit!</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="214">But was not this <ref target="nigh_" corresp="nigh">nigh</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="nigh" target="nigh_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">An old
                        fashioned way of saying nearby or almost (OED).</note> shore?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Close by, my master.</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="215">But are they, Ariel, safe?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Not a hair perish'd;</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="216">On their sustaining garments not a blemish,</l>
                  <l n="217">But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me,</l>
                  <l n="218">In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle.</l>
                  <l n="219">The king's son have I landed by himself;</l>
                  <l n="220">Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs</l>
                  <l n="221">In an odd angle of the isle and sitting,</l>
                  <l n="222">His arms in this <ref target="sad_" corresp="sad">sad knot</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="sad" target="sad_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Sleeping
                        crossed armed (The Arden Shakespeare edition of <hi rend="italic">The
                           Tempest</hi>)</note>.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Of the king's ship</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="223">The mariners say how thou hast disposed</l>
                  <l n="224">And all the rest o' the fleet.</l>
               </sp>
               <pb n="4" facs="pageImages/004.png"/>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Safely in harbour</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="225">Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once</l>
                  <l n="226">Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew</l>
                  <l n="227">From the still-vex'd <ref target="Bermoothes" corresp="Bermoothes">
                                        <placeName type="tgn" key="7032026">Bermoothes</placeName>
                                    </ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Bermoothes" target="Bermoothes_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#MUStudStaff">
                                        <graphic url="notes/4586547685_822db3746f_k.jpeg"/>The Island of Bermuda was
                        devoid of any habitation by indigenous groups before it was discovered by
                        accident by the Spanish sailor Juan Bermúdez in 1503. A flotilla from
                        England, includng the Sea Venture, was shipwrecked here on their way to
                        restock the Jamestown Colony in Virginia (Virginia was named after Elizabeth
                        I, the "Virgin Queen," and Jamestown, after <persName type="lcnaf" key="n80035841">
                                            <name>King James I</name>
                                        </persName>). The wreck of the
                        Sea Venture in 1609, is thought to be a contemporary inspiration for <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi>. After almost a year, the crew was largely
                        able to leave the Island with ships they built during that time. The Island
                        wasn’t colonized until the seventeenth century, after the crew of the Sea
                        Venture returned to England with their tale. Enslaved people were first
                        brought to the Island in 1617. The image included here shows a 17th century
                        map of the Island of Bermuda by Willem Janszoon Blaeu, from the <ref target="flickr.com/photos/normanbleventhalmapcenter/4586547685/">Norman
                           B. Leventhal Map Center</ref>. Content of annotation sourced from <ref target="https://www.raremaps.com/gallery/detail/69825/mappa-aestivarum-insularum-alias-barmudas-blaeu">Barry Lawrence Ruderman</ref>.</note>, there she's hid:</l>
                  <l n="228">The mariners all under hatches stow'd;</l>
                  <l n="229">Who, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour,</l>
                  <l n="230">I have left asleep; and for the rest o' the fleet</l>
                  <l n="231">Which I dispersed, they all have met again</l>
                  <l n="232">And are upon the <placeName type="tgn" key="7016735">Mediterranean</placeName> flote,</l>
                  <l n="234">Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd</l>
                  <l n="235">And his great person perish.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Ariel, thy charge</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="236">Exactly is perform'd: but there's more work.</l>
                  <l n="237">What is the time o' the day?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Past the mid season.</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="238">At least two <ref target="glasses_" corresp="glasses">glasses</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="glasses" target="glasses_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Two hourglasses past midday would be 2 p.m. (The Arden
                        Shakespeare edition of <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi>).</note>. The time
                        <ref target="six_" corresp="six">'twixt six and now</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="six" target="six_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#MUStudStaff">Whatever Prospero is
                        planning must happen between 2 and 6 p.m. (The Arden Shakespeare edition of
                           <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi>). It is important to keep in mind that
                        in Elizabethan England, plays would have typically been performed in the
                        afternoon. The action of the play roughly corresponds to the duratioon of
                        the play being acted.</note>
                                </l>
                  <l n="239">Must by us both be spent most preciously.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="240">Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,</l>
                  <l n="241">Let me remember thee what thou hast promised,</l>
                  <l n="242">Which is not yet perform'd me.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">How now? moody?</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="243">What is't thou canst demand?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">My liberty.</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="244">Before the time be out? no more!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">I prithee,</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="245">Remember I have done thee worthy service;</l>
                  <l n="246">Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, served</l>
                  <l n="247">Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise</l>
                  <l n="248">To bate me a full year.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Dost thou forget</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="249">From what a torment I did free thee?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">No.</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="250">Thou dost, and think'st it much to tread the ooze</l>
                  <l n="251">Of the salt deep,</l>
                  <l n="252">To run upon the sharp wind of the north,</l>
                  <l n="253">To do me business in the veins o' the earth</l>
                  <l n="254">When it is baked with frost.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">I do not, sir.</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="255">Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot</l>
                  <l n="256">The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy</l>
                  <l n="257">Was grown into a <ref target="hoop_" corresp="hoop">hoop</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="hoop" target="hoop_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A hoop is a
                        circular band; here, the witch Sycorax has acquired a hunchback with
                        age (The Arden Shakespeare edition of <hi rend="italic">The
                        Tempest</hi>).</note>? hast thou forgot her?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="258">No, sir.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Thou hast. Where was she born? speak; tell me.</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="259">Sir, in <ref target="Argier_" corresp="Argier">Argier</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Argier" target="Argier_" resp="editors.xml#LD" type="editorial">
                                        <graphic url="notes/iiif-service_gmd_gmd3m_g3200m_g3200m_gct00128a_ca000265-full-pct_12.5-0-default.jpg"/>Sycorax seems to have been born in Argier or Algiers, the capital and
                        chief sea port of Algeria in North Africa, on the Mediterranean coast.
                        Invaded throughout its history, Algiers rose to prominence under the Berber
                        dynasties in the 10th century. Algiers became became home to many Muslim and
                        Jewish refugees escaping Spain in the begining of the 16th century. At the
                        time <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi> was written, Algiers was under
                        Ottoman rule, and it became associated with piracy (<ref>Britannica</ref>).
                        The image included here, from the <ref target="https://www.loc.gov/resource/g3200m.gct00128a">Library of
                           Congress’ first volume of <hi rend="italic">Civitates Orbis Terrarum</hi>
                           (1588)</ref>, shows the white buildings of the fort--and which gave it
                        its French name, “Alger la Blanche” (El-Bahdja in Arabic).</note>.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">O, was she so? I must</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="260">Once in a month recount what thou hast been,</l>
                  <l n="261">Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax,</l>
                  <l n="262">For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible</l>
                  <l n="263">To enter human hearing, from <placeName type="tgn" key="7001314">Argier</placeName>,</l>
                  <l n="264">Thou know'st, was banish'd: for one thing she did</l>
                  <l n="265">They would not take her life. Is not this true?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="266" rend="indent">Ay, sir.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="267">This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child</l>
                  <l n="268">And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,</l>
                  <l n="269">As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant;</l>
                  <l n="270">And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate</l>
                  <l n="271">To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,</l>
                  <l n="272">Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,</l>
                  <l n="273">By help of her more potent ministers</l>
                  <l n="274">And in her most unmitigable rage,</l>
                  <l n="275">Into a cloven pine; within which rift</l>
                  <l n="276">Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain</l>
                  <l n="277">A dozen years; within which space she died</l>
                  <l n="278">And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans</l>
                  <l n="279">As fast as <ref target="strike_" corresp="strike">mill-wheels
                        strike</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="strike" target="strike_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Denoting how frequently a millwheel blade would strike
                        the water (The Arden Shakespeare edition of <hi rend="italic">The
                           Tempest</hi>).</note>. Then was this island--</l>
                  <l n="280">Save for the son that she did litter here,</l>
                  <l n="281">A freckled whelp hag-born--not honour'd with</l>
                  <l n="282">A human shape.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Yes, Caliban her son.</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="283">Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban</l>
                  <l n="284">Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st</l>
                  <l n="285">What torment I did find thee in; thy groans</l>
                  <l n="286">Did make wolves howl and penetrate the breasts</l>
                  <l n="287">Of ever angry bears: it was a torment</l>
                  <l n="288">To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax</l>
                  <l n="289">Could not again undo: it was mine art,</l>
                  <l n="290">When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape</l>
                  <l n="291">The pine and let thee out.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">I thank thee, master.</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="292">If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak</l>
                  <l n="293">And peg thee in his knotty entrails till</l>
                  <l n="294">Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Pardon, master;</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="295">I will be correspondent to command</l>
                  <l n="296">And do my spiriting gently.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Do so, and after two days</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="297">I will discharge thee.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">That's my noble master!</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="298">What shall I do? say what; what shall I do?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="299">Go make thyself like a nymph o' the sea: be subject</l>
                  <l n="300">To no sight but thine and mine, <ref target="invisible_" corresp="invisible">invisible</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="invisible" target="invisible_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Here, Prospero hands
                        Ariel a robe that represents a sea-nymph. Whenever the audience later sees
                        Ariel in this robe, they are to assume that he is invisible to every other
                        character on stage save Prospero (The Arden Shakespeare edition of <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi>).</note>
                                </l>
                  <l n="301">To every eyeball else. Go take this shape</l>
                  <l n="302">And hither come in't: go, hence with diligence!</l>
                  <stage>Exit Ariel</stage>
                  <l n="303">
                                    <ref target="Awake_" corresp="Awake">Awake</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Awake" target="Awake_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Ariel exits the stage. He
                        now speaks to Miranda.</note>, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well;</l>
                  <l n="304">Awake!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">The strangeness of your story put</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="305">
                                    <ref target="Heaviness_" corresp="Heaviness">Heaviness</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Heaviness" target="Heaviness_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Miranda is unaware that her father put her to sleep.</note> in me.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Shake it off. Come on;</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="306">We'll visit <ref target="Caliban_" corresp="Caliban">Caliban</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Caliban" target="Caliban_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#LD">
                        <graphic url="notes/Caliban_(Twelve_Characters_from_Shakespeare)_MET_DP828634.jpeg"/>Caliban is a complex character. He is described as a misshapen creature,
                        described as a "monster" "not honored with a human shape." He is treated as
                        an inferior by the humans in the play. The image here, sourced from <ref target="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Caliban_%28Twelve_Characters_from_Shakespeare%29_MET_DP828634.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</ref>, is an 18th century etching of Caliban by John
                        Hamilton Mortimer (MET, 62.602.163).</note> my slave, who never</l>
                  <l n="307">Yields us kind answer.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">'Tis a villain, sir,</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="308">I do not love to look on.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">But, as 'tis,</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="309">We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,</l>
                  <l n="310">Fetch in our wood and serves in offices</l>
                  <l n="311">That profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban!</l>
                  <l n="312">Thou earth, thou! speak.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l>
                                    <stage>Within</stage> There's wood enough within. </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="313">Come forth, I say! there's other business for thee:</l>
                  <l n="314">Come, thou tortoise! when?</l>
                  <stage>Re-enter Ariel like a water-nymph</stage>
                  <l n="315">Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,</l>
                  <l n="316">Hark in thine ear.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l>My lord it shall be done.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exit</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="317">Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself</l>
                  <l n="318">Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Enter Caliban</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="319">As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd</l>
                  <l n="320">With raven's feather from unwholesome fen</l>
                  <l n="321">Drop on you both! A <ref target="blow_" corresp="blow">blow</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="blow" target="blow_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Warm damp
                        air carrying airborne diseases, according to the Arden Shakespeare edition
                        of <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi>.</note> on ye</l>
                  <l n="322">And blister you all o'er!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="323">For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,</l>
                  <l n="324">Side-stitches that shall <ref target="pen_" corresp="pen">pen thy
                        breath up</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="pen" target="pen_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Stop your breath (OED v).</note>; urchins</l>
                  <l n="325">Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,</l>
                  <l n="326">All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd</l>
                  <l n="327">As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging</l>
                  <l n="328">Than bees that made 'em.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">I must eat my dinner.</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="329">This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,</l>
                  <l n="330">Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first,</l>
                  <l n="331">Thou strokedst me and madest much of me, wouldst give me</l>
                  <l n="332">Water with berries in't, and teach me how</l>
                  <l n="333">To name the bigger light, and how the less,</l>
                  <l n="334">That burn by day and night: and then I loved thee</l>
                  <l n="335">And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle,</l>
                  <l n="336">The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile:</l>
                  <l n="337">Cursed be I that did so! All the charms</l>
                  <l n="338">Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!</l>
                  <l n="339">For I am all the subjects that you have,</l>
                  <l n="340">Which first was mine own king: and here you <ref target="sty_" corresp="sty">sty</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="sty" target="sty_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">To confine.</note> me</l>
                  <l n="341">In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me</l>
                  <l n="342">The rest o' the island.</l>
               </sp>
               <pb n="5" facs="pageImages/005.png"/>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Thou most lying slave,</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="343">Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee,</l>
                  <l n="344">Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodged thee</l>
                  <l n="345">In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate</l>
                  <l n="346">The <ref target="honour_" corresp="honour">honour</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="honour" target="honour_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">When
                        used to describe men, "honour" or "honor" refers to the virtues of nobility
                        of spirit, distinction. However, when applied to women--like Miranda--the word
                        most typically refers to sexual chastity or virginity (OED 7.a)</note> of my
                     child.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">O ho, O ho! would't had been done!</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="347">Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else</l>
                  <l n="348">This isle with Calibans.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Abhorred slave,</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="349">Which <ref target="print_" corresp="print">any print of goodness wilt
                        not take</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="print" target="print_" resp="editors.xml#TH" type="gloss">Prospero is here using the word "print" as in "impression," but
                        with connotations deriving from the new invention of printing.</note>,</l>
                  <l n="350">Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,</l>
                  <l n="351">Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour</l>
                  <l n="352">One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage,</l>
                  <l n="353">Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like</l>
                  <l n="354">A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes</l>
                  <l n="355">With words that made them known. But thy vile race,</l>
                  <l n="356">Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good natures</l>
                  <l n="357">Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou</l>
                  <l n="358">Deservedly confined into this rock,</l>
                  <l n="359">Who hadst deserved more than a prison.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="360">You taught me language; and my profit on't</l>
                  <l n="361">Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you</l>
                  <l n="362">For learning me your language!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Hag-seed, hence!</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="363">Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, <ref target="best_" corresp="best">thou'rt best</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="best" target="best_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">"You are advised to" (The Arden Shakespeare edition of
                           <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi>).</note>,</l>
                  <l n="364">To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice?</l>
                  <l n="365">If thou neglect'st or dost unwillingly</l>
                  <l n="366">What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps,</l>
                  <l n="367">Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar</l>
                  <l n="368">That beasts shall tremble at thy din.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">No, pray thee.</hi>
                  </l>
                  <stage>Aside</stage>
                  <l n="369">I must obey: his art is of such power,</l>
                  <l n="370">It would control my dam's god, Setebos,</l>
                  <l n="371">and make a vassal of him.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">So, slave; hence!</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exit Caliban</stage>
               <stage>Re-enter Ariel, invisible, playing and singing; Ferdinand following Ariel's
                  song.</stage>
               <sp style="song">
                  <speaker>[Ariel]</speaker>
                  <l n="372" rend="indent2">Come unto these yellow sands,</l>
                  <l n="373" rend="indent3">And then take hands:</l>
                  <l n="374" rend="indent2">Courtsied when you have and kiss'd</l>
                  <l n="375" rend="indent3">The wild waves whist,</l>
                  <l n="376" rend="indent2">Foot it featly here and there;</l>
                  <l n="377" rend="indent2">And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.</l>
                  <l n="378" rend="indent2">Hark, hark!</l>
                  <stage>
                                    <ref target="bourdon_" corresp="bourdon">Burthen</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="bourdon" target="bourdon_">Here, "burthen" doesn't mean burden; it
                        is used instead in a musical sense, a bass accoompaniment (from the Middle
                        English word "bourdon"), or perhaps the refrain of a song (OED IV.9-10)
                     </note> (dispersedly, within)</stage>
                  <l n="379" rend="indent3">Bow-wow</l>
                  <l n="380" rend="indent2">The watch-dogs bark!</l>
                  <stage>Burthen</stage>
                  <l n="381" rend="indent3">Bow-wow</l>
                  <l n="382" rend="indent2">Hark, hark! I hear</l>
                  <l n="383" rend="indent2">The strain of strutting <ref target="chanticleer_" corresp="chanticleer">chanticleer</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="chanticleer" target="chanticleer_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A dominating
                        rooster in a courtyard.</note>
                                </l>
                  <l n="384" rend="indent3">Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="385">Where should this music be? i' the air or the earth?</l>
                  <l n="386">It sounds no more: and sure, it waits upon</l>
                  <l n="387">Some god o' the island. Sitting on a bank,</l>
                  <l n="388">Weeping again the king my father's wreck,</l>
                  <l n="389">This music crept by me upon the waters,</l>
                  <l n="390">Allaying both their fury and my passion</l>
                  <l n="391">With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it,</l>
                  <l n="392">Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone.</l>
                  <l n="393">No, it begins again.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Ariel sings</stage>
               <sp style="song">
                  <speaker>[Ariel]</speaker>
                  <l n="394" rend="indent2">Full fathom five thy father lies;</l>
                  <l n="395" rend="indent3">Of his bones are coral made;</l>
                  <l n="396" rend="indent2">Those are pearls that were his eyes:</l>
                  <l n="397" rend="indent3">Nothing of him that doth fade</l>
                  <l n="398" rend="indent2">But doth suffer a sea-change</l>
                  <l n="399" rend="indent2">Into something rich and strange.</l>
                  <l n="400" rend="indent2">Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell</l>
                  <stage>Burthen: Ding-dong</stage>
                  <l n="401" rend="indent2">Hark! now I hear them,--Ding-dong, bell.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="402">The ditty does remember my drown'd father.</l>
                  <l n="403">This is no mortal business, nor no sound</l>
                  <l n="404">That the earth owes. I hear it now above me.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="405">The fringed curtains of thine eye advance</l>
                  <l n="406">And say what thou seest yond.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">What is't? a spirit?</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="407">Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,</l>
                  <l n="408">It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="409">No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses</l>
                  <l n="410">As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest</l>
                  <l n="411">Was in the wreck; and, but he's something stain'd</l>
                  <l n="412">With grief that's beauty's <ref target="canker_" corresp="canker">canker</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="canker" target="canker_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A disease that consumes vegetation (OED).</note> , thou
                     mightst call him</l>
                  <l n="413">A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows</l>
                  <l n="414">And strays about to find 'em.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">I might call him</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="415">A thing divine, for nothing natural</l>
                  <l n="416">I ever saw so noble.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <stage>Aside</stage>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">It goes on, I see, </hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="417">As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee</l>
                  <l n="418">Within two days for this.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Most sure, the goddess</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="419">On whom these airs attend! <ref target="Vouchsafe_" corresp="Vouchsafe">Vouchsafe</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Vouchsafe" target="Vouchsafe" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">To grant or bestow.</note> my prayer</l>
                  <l n="420">May know if you remain upon this island;</l>
                  <l n="421">And that you will some good instruction give</l>
                  <l n="422">How I may bear me here: my prime request,</l>
                  <l n="423">Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!</l>
                  <l n="424">If you be maid or no?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">No wonder, sir;</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="425">But certainly a maid.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">My language! heavens!</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="426">I am the best of them that speak this speech,</l>
                  <l n="427">Were I but where 'tis spoken.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">How? the best?</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="428">What wert thou, if the King of <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName> heard thee?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="429">A single thing, as I am now, that wonders</l>
                  <l n="430">To hear thee speak of <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName>. He does hear me;</l>
                  <l n="431">And that he does I weep: myself am <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName>,</l>
                  <l n="432">Who with mine eyes, never since at <ref target="ebb_" corresp="ebb">ebb</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="ebb" target="ebb_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">At low tide.</note>, beheld</l>
                  <l n="433">The king my father wreck'd.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Alack, for mercy!</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="434">Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName>
                                </l>
                  <l n="435">And his brave son being twain.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <stage>Aside</stage>
                  <l n="435" rend="indent">The Duke of <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName> </l>
                  <l n="436">And his more braver daughter could control thee,</l>
                  <l n="437">If now 'twere fit to do't. At the first sight</l>
                  <l n="438">They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel,</l>
                  <l n="439">I'll set thee free for this.</l>
                  <stage>To Ferdinand</stage>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">A word, good sir;</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="440">I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l n="441">Why speaks my father so ungently? This</l>
                  <l n="442">Is the third man that e'er I saw, the first</l>
                  <l n="443">That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father</l>
                  <l n="444">To be inclined my way!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">O, if a virgin,</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="445">And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you</l>
                  <l n="446">The queen of <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName>.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">
                        <ref target="Soft_" corresp="Soft">Soft</ref>
                                        <note xml:id="Soft" target="Soft_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">To kindly ask for
                           silence (OED adv.).</note>, sir! one word more.</hi>
                  </l>
                  <stage>Aside</stage>
                  <l n="447">They are both in either's powers; but this swift business</l>
                  <l n="448">I must uneasy make, lest too light winning</l>
                  <l n="449">Make the prize light.</l>
                  <stage>[To Ferdinand]</stage>
                  <l n="449">
                     <hi rend="indent">One word more; I charge thee</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="450">That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp</l>
                  <l n="451">
                                    <ref target="name_" corresp="name">The name thou owest not</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="name" target="name_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Prospero
                        accuses Ferdinand of "usurping" his father's position as king by claiming
                        that he will make Miranda "queen of <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName>".</note>; and hast put
                     thyself</l>
                  <l n="452">Upon this island as a spy, to win it</l>
                  <l n="453">From me, the lord on't.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="453">
                     <hi rend="indent">No, as I am a man.</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l n="454">There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple:</l>
                  <l n="455">If the ill spirit have so fair a house,</l>
                  <l n="456">Good things will strive to dwell with't.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Follow me.</hi>
                  </l>
                  <pb n="6" facs="pageImages/006.png"/>
                  <l n="457">Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. Come;</l>
                  <l n="458">I'll manacle thy neck and feet together:</l>
                  <l n="459">Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be</l>
                  <l n="460">The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots and husks</l>
                  <l n="461">Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">No;</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="462">I will resist such entertainment till</l>
                  <l n="463">Mine enemy has more power.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>
                  <ref target="Draws_" corresp="Draws">Draws, and is charmed from moving</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Draws" target="Draws_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Ferdinand
                     draws his sword. Prospero casts a spell to transfix Ferdinand while neither he
                     nor Miranda are aware of this.</note>
               </stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">O dear father,</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="464">Make not too rash a trial of him, for</l>
                  <l n="465">He's gentle and not fearful.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">What? I say,</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="466">My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;</l>
                  <l n="467">Who makest a show but darest not strike, thy conscience</l>
                  <l n="468">Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward,</l>
                  <l n="469">For I can here disarm thee with this stick</l>
                  <l n="470">And make thy weapon drop.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Beseech you, father.</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="471">Hence! hang not on my garments.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Sir, have pity;</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="472">I'll be his <ref target="surety_" corresp="surety">surety</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="surety" target="surety_" resp="editors.xml#LD" type="gloss">According to the OED, a surety in this sense is "a person who is liable for
                        the default or misconduct of another, or for ensuring the performance of
                        some act on another's part, such as payment of a debt or appearance in
                        court" (surety n. 2a).</note>.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Silence! one word more</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="473">Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!</l>
                  <l n="474">An advocate for an imposter! hush!</l>
                  <l n="475">Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he,</l>
                  <l n="476">Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench!</l>
                  <l n="477">To the most of men this is a Caliban</l>
                  <l n="478">And they to him are angels.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">My affections</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="479">Are then most humble; I have no ambition</l>
                  <l n="480">To see a goodlier man.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Come on; obey:</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="481">Thy nerves are in their infancy again</l>
                  <l n="482">And have no vigour in them.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">So they are;</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="483">My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.</l>
                  <l n="484">My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,</l>
                  <l n="485">The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats,</l>
                  <l n="486">To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,</l>
                  <l n="487">Might I but through my prison once a day</l>
                  <l n="488">Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth</l>
                  <l n="489">Let liberty make use of; space enough</l>
                  <l n="490">Have I in such a prison.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <stage>Aside</stage>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">It works. </hi>
                  </l>
                  <stage>To Ferdinand</stage>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Come on.</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="491">Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! <stage>[To Ferdinand] </stage>Follow
                     me.</l>
                  <stage>To Ariel</stage>
                  <l n="492">
                                    <ref target="hark_" corresp="hark">Hark</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="hark" target="hark_" resp="editors.xml#LD" type="gloss">Calling to attention, to
                        listen, to harken to (OED).</note> what thou else shalt do me.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Be of comfort;</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="493">My father's of a better nature, sir,</l>
                  <l n="494">Than he appears by speech: this is <ref target="unwonted_" corresp="unwonted">unwonted</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="unwonted" target="unwonted_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Unusual</note>
                                </l>
                  <l n="495">Which now came from him.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Thou shalt be free</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l n="496">As mountain winds: but then exactly do</l>
                  <l n="497">All points of my command.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">To the syllable.</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <stage>[To Ferdinand.]</stage>
                  <l n="498">Come, follow.</l>
                  <stage>[To Miranda.]</stage>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="indent">Speak not for him.</hi>
                  </l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exeunt</stage>
            </div>
         </div>
         <div type="act">
            <head type="sub">Act II</head>
            <div type="scene">
               <head type="sub">Scene I. Another part of the island.</head>
               <stage>Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and
                  others</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="1">
                                    <ref target="Beseech_" corresp="Beseech">Beseech</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Beseech" target="Beseech_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">To
                        plead or beg with great earnest (OED v. 2a).</note> you, sir, be merry; you
                     have cause,</l>
                  <l n="2">So have we all, of joy; for our escape</l>
                  <l n="3">Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe</l>
                  <l n="4">Is common; every day some sailor's wife,</l>
                  <l n="5">The masters of some merchant and the merchant</l>
                  <l n="6">Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle,</l>
                  <l n="7">I mean our preservation, few in millions</l>
                  <l n="8">Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh</l>
                  <l n="9">Our sorrow with our comfort.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l>
                                    <ref target="Prithee_" corresp="Prithee">Prithee</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Prithee" target="prithee_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A synonym for the word
                        "beseech." An archaic form of "I pray thee" (OED).</note>, peace.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="10">He receives comfort like cold porridge.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="11">The visitor will not give him o'er so.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="12">Look he's winding up the watch of his wit;</l>
                  <l n="13">by and by it will strike.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="13">Sir,--</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="14">One: tell.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="15">When every grief is entertain'd</l>
                  <l n="16">that's offer'd, Comes to the entertainer--</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="16">A <ref target="dollar_" corresp="dollar">dollar</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="dollar" target="dollar_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">
                     <graphic url="notes/Thaler.jpeg" alt="A photographic representation of thalers" desc="A photographic representation of thalers from Wikimedia Commons" source="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Thaler.jpeg"/>According to the OED, a dollar is the
                        English word for the thaler, a German coin of varying value used from the
                        16th century. The image here, sourced from <ref target="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Thaler.jpeg">Wikimedia
                           Commons</ref>, shows several thalers.</note>.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="17">
                                    <ref target="Dolour_" corresp="Dolour">Dolour</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Dolour" target="Dolour" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Sorrow or grief (OED).
                        Gonzalo is playing along with Sebastian's jesting.</note> comes to him,
                     indeed: you have spoken truer than you purposed.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="18">You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="19">Therefore, my lord,--</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="20">
                                    <ref target="Fie_" corresp="Fie">Fie</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Fie" target="Fie_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A Middle English expression
                        of disgust, used to refer to children to "excite shame for some unbecoming
                        action" (OED).</note>, what a <ref target="spendthrift_" corresp="spendthrift">spendthrift</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="spendthrift" target="spendthrift" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Someone who
                        irresponsibly squanders his income (OED 2).</note> is he of his tongue!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="21">I prithee, spare.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="22">Well, I have done: but yet,--</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="23">He will be talking.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="24">Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager,</l>
                  <l>first begins to crow?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="25">The old cock.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="26">The cockerel.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="27">Done. The wager?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="28">A laughter.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="29">A match!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Adrian</speaker>
                  <l n="30">Though this island seem to be desert,--</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="31">Ha, ha, ha! So, you're paid.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Adrian</speaker>
                  <l n="32">Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible,--</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="33">Yet,--</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Adrian</speaker>
                  <l n="34">Yet,--</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="35">He could not miss't.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Adrian</speaker>
                  <l n="36">It must needs be of subtle, tender and delicate temperance.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="37">Temperance was a delicate wench.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="38">Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Adrian</speaker>
                  <l n="39">The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="40">As if it had lungs and rotten ones.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="41">Or as 'twere perfumed by a <ref target="fen_" corresp="fen">fen</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="fen" target="fen_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Smelly marsh lands.</note>.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="42">Here is everything advantageous to life.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="43">True; save means to live.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="44">Of that there's none, or little.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="45">How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="46">The ground indeed is tawny.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="47">With an eye of green in't.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="48">He misses not much.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="49">No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="50">But the rarity of it is,--which is indeed almost beyond credit,--</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="51">As many vouched rarities are.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="52">That our garments, being, as they were, drenched</l>
                  <l>in the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and</l>
                  <l>glosses, being rather new-dyed than stained with salt</l>
                  <l>water.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="53">If but one of his pockets could speak, would</l>
                  <l>it not say he lies?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="54">Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report</l>
               </sp>
               <pb n="7" facs="pageImages/007.png"/>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="55">Methinks our garments are now as fresh as </l>
                  <l n="56">when we put them on first in <ref target="Afric_" corresp="Afric">
                                        <placeName type="tgn" key="7001242">Afric</placeName>
                                    </ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Afric" target="Afric_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">An old form of Africa (OED).</note>, at the
                     marriage</l>
                  <l n="56">of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the King of <ref target="Tunis_" corresp="Tunis">Tunis</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Tunis" target="Tunis_" resp="editors.xml#TH" type="gloss">Tunis is the capital city in Tunisia, a
                        country in North Africa. The northern coast of the country, where Tunis is,
                        is on the Mediterranean Sea.</note>.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="56">'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in </l>
                  <l n="56">our return.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Adrian</speaker>
                  <l n="57">
                                    <placeName type="tgn" key="7001016">Tunis</placeName> was
                     never graced before with such a </l>
                  <l n="58">Paragon to their Queen.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="58">Not since widow <ref target="Dido_" corresp="Dido">Dido</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Dido" target="Dido_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">In Greek
                        mythology, Dido, a widow, falls in love with Aeneas and kills herself after
                        he leaves her to go and build the city of Rome (The Arden Shakespeare
                        edition of <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi>).</note>'s time.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="59">Widow! a pox o' that! How came that widow </l>
                  <l n="60">in? widow Dido!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="60">What if he had said 'widower AEneas' too? </l>
                  <l>Good Lord, how you take it!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Adrian</speaker>
                  <l n="61">'Widow Dido' said you? you make me study of that:</l>
                  <l n="63">she was of <ref target="Carthage_" corresp="Carthage">
                                        <placeName type="tgn" key="7016143">Carthage</placeName>
                                    </ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Carthage" target="Carthage_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">
                                        <placeName type="tgn" key="7016143">Carthage</placeName> and Tunis weren't the same city, but later on, <placeName type="tgn" key="7016143">Carthage</placeName> was
                        usurped, and Tunis took it's place as the main powerful state of the region
                        (The Arden Shakespeare edition of <hi rend="italic">The
                     Tempest</hi>).</note>, not of <placeName type="tgn" key="7001016">Tunis</placeName>.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="62">This <placeName type="tgn" key="7001016">Tunis</placeName>, sir, was <placeName type="tgn" key="7016143">Carthage</placeName>.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Adrian</speaker>
                  <l n="63">
                                    <placeName type="tgn" key="7016143">Carthage</placeName>?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="64">I assure you, <placeName type="tgn" key="7016143">Carthage</placeName>.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="65">His word is more than the <ref target="harp_" corresp="harp">miraculous
                        harp</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="harp" target="harp_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD"> Sebastian is referring to the harp that Amphion, son
                        of Zeus is known to have used when constructing the walls of Thebes, a city
                        in Boeotia, Greece (The Arden Shakespeare edition of <hi rend="italic">The
                           Tempest</hi>).</note>; he hath raised the wall and houses too.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="66">What impossible matter will he make easy next?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="67">I think he will carry this island home in </l>
                  <l n="">his pocket and give it his son for an apple.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="68">And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, </l>
                  <l n="">bring forth more islands.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="69">Ay.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="70">Why, in good time.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="71">Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now </l>
                  <l n="">as fresh as when we were at <placeName type="tgn" key="7001016">Tunis</placeName> at the marriage </l>
                  <l n="">of your daughter, who is now queen.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="72">And the rarest that e'er came there.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="73">Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="74">O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="75">Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the </l>
                  <l n="">first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="76">That sort was well fished for.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="77">When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="78">You cram these words into mine ears against</l>
                  <l n="79">The stomach of my sense. Would I had never</l>
                  <l n="80">Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,</l>
                  <l n="81">My son is lost and, in my rate, she too,</l>
                  <l n="82">Who is so far from Italy removed</l>
                  <l n="83">I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir</l>
                  <l n="84">Of <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName> and of <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName>, what <ref target="strange_fish_" corresp="strange_fish">strange fish</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="strange_fish" target="strange_fish_" resp="editors.xml#TH" type="editorial">This phrase
                        may be a reference to the sea creatures that were often depicted in the
                        oceans of early modern maps. While in earlier periods, when little was known
                        about the shapes of land masses, these sea creatures were signs of danger
                        and the unknown; however, by the late 16th and 17th centuries, sea travel
                        and exploration was on the rise, and this led to more and more complete
                        maps. As the unknown declined, so too did representationos of sea monsters.
                        They transitioned into less threatening and more whimsical fish or whales,
                        and in the modern world, they all but disappeared cartographically. To learn
                        more about the "strange fish" of early modern cartography, see <ref target="https://www.laphamsquarterly.org/roundtable/mapping-oceans">"Mapping the Oceans: How Cartographers Saw the World in the Age of
                           Discovery" at Lapham's Quarterly</ref>.</note>
                                </l>
                  <l n="85">Hath made his meal on thee?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Francisco</speaker>
                  <l>
                                    <hi rend="indent2"/>Sir, he may live:</l>
                  <l n="86">I saw him beat the surges under him,</l>
                  <l n="87">And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,</l>
                  <l n="88">Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted</l>
                  <l n="89">The surge most <ref target="swoln_" corresp="swoln">swoln</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="swoln" target="swoln_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">According
                        to the OED (IV. 5a), breasted in this sense means "To move forwards directly
                        into, to confront head-on; to climb." Francisco means to say that he
                        witnessed Ferdinand survive contact with a large wave.</note> that met him;
                     his bold head</l>
                  <l n="90">'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd</l>
                  <l n="91">Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke</l>
                  <l n="92">To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,</l>
                  <l n="93">As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt</l>
                  <l n="94">He came alive to land.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l>
                                    <hi rend="indent2"/>No, no, he's gone.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="95">Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss,</l>
                  <l n="96">That would not bless our <placeName type="tgn" key="4003761">Europe</placeName> with your daughter,</l>
                  <l n="97">But rather lose her to an African;</l>
                  <l n="98">Where she at least is banish'd from your eye,</l>
                  <l n="99">Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l>
                                    <hi rend="indent2"/>Prithee, peace.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="100">You were kneel'd to and importuned otherwise</l>
                  <l n="101">By all of us, and the fair soul herself</l>
                  <l n="102">Weigh'd between loathness and obedience, at</l>
                  <l n="103">Which end o' the beam should bow. We have lost your son,</l>
                  <l n="104">I fear, for ever: <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName> and <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName> have</l>
                  <l n="105">More widows in them of this business' making</l>
                  <l n="106">Than we bring men to comfort them:</l>
                  <l n="107">The fault's your own.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l>
                                    <hi rend="indent2"/>So is the dear'st o' the loss.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="108">My lord Sebastian,</l>
                  <l n="109">The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness</l>
                  <l n="110">And time to speak it in: you rub the sore,</l>
                  <l n="111">When you should bring the plaster.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l>
                                    <hi rend="indent2"/>Very well.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="112">And most <ref target="chirurgeonly_" corresp="chirurgeonly">chirurgeonly</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="chirurgeonly" target="chirurgeonly" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">"Chirurgeon" is an older spelling of
                        "surgeon" (OED).</note>.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="113">It is foul weather in us all, good sir,</l>
                  <l n="114">When you are cloudy.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l>
                                    <hi rend="indent"/>Foul weather?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent2">Very foul.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="115">Had I <ref target="plantation_" corresp="plantation">plantation</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="plantation" target="plantation_" resp="editors.xml#TH" type="gloss">The word "plantation" is significant in
                        the early modern period, as it refers to colonization; Gonzalo imagines his
                        dominion over the island. It also has another sense, meaning a site of
                        planting, which Antonio plays on in the next line.</note> of this isle, my
                     lord,--</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="116">He'ld sow't with nettle-seed.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent2">Or docks, or mallows.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="117">And were the king on't, what would I do?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="118">'scape being drunk for want of wine.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="119">I' the commonwealth I would by contraries</l>
                  <l n="120">Execute all things; for no kind of traffic</l>
                  <l n="121">Would I admit; no name of magistrate;</l>
                  <l n="122">Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,</l>
                  <l n="123">And use of service, none; contract, succession,</l>
                  <l n="124">Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;</l>
                  <l n="125">No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil;</l>
                  <l n="126">No occupation; all men idle, all;</l>
                  <l n="127">And women too, but innocent and pure;</l>
                  <l n="128">No sovereignty;--</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent2">Yet he would be king on't.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="129">The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="130">
                     <ref target="common_" corresp="common">All things in common nature should
                        produce</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="common" target="common_" resp="editors.xml#TH" type="editorial">Gonzalo seems to be suggesting that the trappings of modern civilization
                        lead to corruptiono and want. He imagines a pure, idyllic place without
                        violence, commerce, or vice.</note>
                  </l>
                  <l n="131">Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,</l>
                  <l n="132">Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,</l>
                  <l n="133">Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,</l>
                  <l n="134">Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance,</l>
                  <l n="135">To feed my innocent people.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="136">No marrying 'mong his subjects?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="137">None, man; all idle: whores and <ref target="knaves_" corresp="knaves">
                        knaves</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="knaves" target="knaves_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Dishonorable men.</note>.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="138">I would with such perfection govern, sir,</l>
                  <l n="139">To excel the golden age.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent2">God save his majesty!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="140">Long live Gonzalo!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent2">And,--do you mark me, sir?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="141">Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="142">I do well believe your highness; and did it to</l>
                  <l n="">minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of </l>
                  <l n="">such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use</l>
                  <l n=""> to laugh at nothing.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="143">'Twas you we laughed at.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="144">Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing</l>
                  <l n="">to you: so you may continue and laugh at nothing still.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="145">What a blow was there given!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="146">An it had not fallen flat-long.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="147">You are gentlemen of brave metal; you would</l>
                  <l n="">lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue</l>
                  <l n="">in it five weeks without changing.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Enter Ariel, invisible, playing solemn music</stage>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="148">We would so, and then go a <ref target="fowling_" corresp="fowling">bat-fowling</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="fowling" target="fowling_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A way of catching birds at night by flashing them with
                        a bright light, so as to disorient them (OED).</note>.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="149">Nay, good my lord, be not angry.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="150">No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my</l>
                  <l n="">discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I</l>
                  <l n="">am very <ref target="heavy_" corresp="heavy">heavy</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="heavy" target="heavy_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Ariel is
                        working magic to put them to sleep.</note>?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="151">Go sleep, and hear us.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>All sleep except Alonso, Sebastian, and Antonio</stage>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="152">What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, </l>
                  <l n="">with themselves, shut up my thoughts:</l>
                  <l n="">I find They are inclined to do so.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">Please you, sir,</l>
                  <l n="153">Do not omit the heavy offer of it:</l>
                  <l n="154">It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,</l>
                  <l n="155">It is a comforter.</l>
               </sp>
               <pb n="8" facs="pageImages/008.png"/>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">We two, my lord,</l>
                  <l n="156">Will guard your person while you take your rest,</l>
                  <l n="157">And watch your safety.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent2">Thank you. Wondrous heavy.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="158">What a strange drowsiness possesses them!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="159">It is the quality o' the climate.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent2">Why</l>
                  <l n="160">Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not</l>
                  <l n="161">Myself disposed to sleep.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent2">Nor I; my spirits are nimble.</l>
                  <l n="162">They fell together all, as by consent;</l>
                  <l n="163">They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,</l>
                  <l n="164">Worthy Sebastian? O, what might?--No more:--</l>
                  <l n="165">And yet me thinks I see it in thy face,</l>
                  <l n="166">What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee, and</l>
                  <l n="167">My strong imagination sees a crown</l>
                  <l n="168">Dropping upon thy head.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent2">What, art thou waking?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="169">Do you not hear me speak?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent2">I do; and surely</l>
                  <l n="170">It is a sleepy language and thou speak'st</l>
                  <l n="171">Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say?</l>
                  <l n="172">This is a strange repose, to be asleep</l>
                  <l n="173">With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,</l>
                  <l n="174">And yet so fast asleep.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent2">Noble Sebastian,</l>
                  <l n="175">Thou let'st thy fortune sleep--die, rather; wink'st</l>
                  <l n="176">Whiles thou art waking.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent2">Thou dost snore distinctly;</l>
                  <l n="177">There's meaning in thy snores.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="178">I am more serious than my custom: you</l>
                  <l n="179">Must be so too, if heed me; which to do</l>
                  <l n="180">Trebles thee o'er.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent2">Well, I am standing water.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="181">I'll teach you how to flow.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent2">Do so: to ebb</l>
                  <l n="182">
                                    <ref target="sloth_" corresp="sloth">Hereditary sloth</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="sloth" target="sloth_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">Sebastian
                        says that he is naturally slothful or slow; he is naturally driven to ebb,
                        and not to flow.</note> instructs me.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent2">O,</l>
                  <l n="183">If you but knew how you the purpose cherish</l>
                  <l n="184">Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,</l>
                  <l n="185">You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,</l>
                  <l n="186">Most often do so near the bottom run</l>
                  <l n="187">By their own fear or sloth.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">Prithee, say on:</l>
                  <l n="188">The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim</l>
                  <l n="189">A matter from thee, and a birth indeed</l>
                  <l n="190">Which throes thee much to yield.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">Thus, sir:</l>
                  <l n="191">Although this lord of weak remembrance, this,</l>
                  <l n="192">Who shall be of as little memory</l>
                  <l n="193">When he is earth'd, hath here almost persuade,--</l>
                  <l n="194">For he's a spirit of persuasion, only</l>
                  <l n="195">Professes to persuade,--the king his son's alive,</l>
                  <l n="196">'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd</l>
                  <l n="197">And he that sleeps here swims.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">I have no hope</l>
                  <l n="198">That he's undrown'd.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">O, out of that 'no hope'</l>
                  <l n="199">What great hope have you! no hope that way is</l>
                  <l n="200">Another way so high a hope that even</l>
                  <l n="201">Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,</l>
                  <l n="202">But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me</l>
                  <l n="203">That Ferdinand is drown'd?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">He's gone.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent2">Then, tell me,</l>
                  <l n="204">Who's the next heir of <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName>?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">Claribel.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="205">She that is queen of <placeName type="tgn" key="7001016">Tunis</placeName>; she that dwells</l>
                  <l n="206">Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName>
                                </l>
                  <l n="207">Can have no note, unless the sun were post--</l>
                  <l n="208">The man i' the moon's too slow--till new-born chins</l>
                  <l n="209">Be rough and razorable; she that--from whom?</l>
                  <l n="210">We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again,</l>
                  <l n="211">And by that destiny to perform an act</l>
                  <l n="212">Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come</l>
                  <l n="213">In yours and my discharge.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">What stuff is this! how say you?</l>
                  <l n="214">'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of <placeName type="tgn" key="7001016">Tunis</placeName>;</l>
                  <l n="215">So is she heir of <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName>; 'twixt which regions</l>
                  <l n="216">There is some space.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">A space whose every cubit</l>
                  <l n="217">Seems to cry out, 'How shall that Claribel</l>
                  <l n="218">Measure us back to <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName>? Keep in <placeName type="tgn" key="7001016">Tunis</placeName>,</l>
                  <l n="219">And let Sebastian wake.' Say, this were death</l>
                  <l n="220">That now hath seized them; why, they were no worse</l>
                  <l n="221">Than now they are. There be that can rule <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName>
                                </l>
                  <l n="222">As well as he that sleeps; lords that can <ref target="prate_" corresp="prate">prate</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="prate" target="prate_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">To chatter irrelevantly.</note>
                                </l>
                  <l n="223">As amply and unnecessarily</l>
                  <l n="224">As this Gonzalo; I myself could make</l>
                  <l n="225">A <ref target="chough_" corresp="chough">chough</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="chough" target="chough_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A
                        chatterer.</note> of as deep chat. O, that you bore</l>
                  <l n="226">The mind that I do! what a sleep were this</l>
                  <l n="227">For your advancement! Do you understand me?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="228">Methinks I do.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">And how does your content</l>
                  <l n="229">Tender your own good fortune?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">I remember</l>
                  <l n="230">You did supplant your brother Prospero.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">True:</l>
                  <l n="231">And look how well my garments sit upon me;</l>
                  <l n="232">Much <ref target="feater_" corresp="feater">feater</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="feater" target="feater_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A better
                        fit.</note> than before: my brother's servants</l>
                  <l n="233">Were then my fellows; now they are my men.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">But, for your conscience?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="234">Ay, sir; where lies that? if 'twere a <ref target="kibe_" corresp="kibe">kibe</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="kibe" target="kibe_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">According to the OED 1a., a kibe is a Middle English
                        word meaning "A chapped or ulcerated chilblain, esp. one on the heel." A
                        chilblain is a red, rough, patchy area of skin.</note>,</l>
                  <l n="235">'Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel not</l>
                  <l n="236">This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences,</l>
                  <l n="237">That stand 'twixt me and <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName>, candied be they</l>
                  <l n="238">And melt ere they molest! Here lies your brother,</l>
                  <l n="239">No better than the earth he lies upon,</l>
                  <l n="240">If he were that which now he's like, that's dead;</l>
                  <l n="241">Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it,</l>
                  <l n="242">Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus,</l>
                  <l n="243">To the perpetual wink for aye might put</l>
                  <l n="244">This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who</l>
                  <l n="245">Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,</l>
                  <l n="246">They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk;</l>
                  <l n="247">They'll tell the clock to any business that</l>
                  <l n="248">We say befits the hour.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">Thy case, dear friend,</l>
                  <l n="249">Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName>,</l>
                  <l n="250">I'll come by <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName>. Draw thy sword: one stroke</l>
                  <l n="251">Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest;</l>
                  <l n="252">And I the king shall love thee.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">Draw together;</l>
                  <l n="253">And when I rear my hand, do you the like,</l>
                  <l n="254">To fall it on Gonzalo.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">O, but one word.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>They talk apart</stage>
               <stage>Re-enter Ariel, invisible</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="255">My master through his art foresees the danger</l>
                  <l n="256">That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth--</l>
                  <l n="257">For else his project dies--to keep them living.</l>
                  <stage>Sings in Gonzalo's ear</stage>
                  <l n="258" rend="indent2">While you here do snoring lie,</l>
                  <l n="259" rend="indent2">Open-eyed conspiracy</l>
                  <l n="260" rend="indent3">His time doth take.</l>
                  <pb n="9" facs="pageImages/009.png"/>
                  <l n="261" rend="indent2">If of life you keep a care,</l>
                  <l n="262" rend="indent2">Shake off slumber, and beware:</l>
                  <l n="263" rend="indent3">Awake, awake!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="264">Then let us both be sudden.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">Now, good angels Preserve the king.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>They wake</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="265">Why, how now? ho, awake! Why are you drawn?</l>
                  <l n="266">Wherefore this ghastly looking?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">What's the matter?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="267">Whiles we stood here securing your repose,</l>
                  <l n="268">Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing</l>
                  <l n="269">Like bulls, or rather lions: did't not wake you?</l>
                  <l n="270">It struck mine ear most terribly.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">I heard nothing.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="271">O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear,</l>
                  <l n="272">To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar</l>
                  <l n="273">Of a whole herd of lions.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">Heard you this, Gonzalo?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="274">Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,</l>
                  <l n="275">(And that a strange one too) which did awake me:</l>
                  <l n="276">I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open'd,</l>
                  <l n="277">I saw their weapons drawn: there was a noise,</l>
                  <l n="278">That's verily. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard,</l>
                  <l n="279">Or that we quit this place; let's draw our weapons.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="280">Lead off this ground; and let's make further search</l>
                  <l n="281">For my poor son.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="282">Heavens keep him from these beasts!</l>
                  <l n="283">For he is, sure, i' the island.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">Lead away.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="284">Prospero my lord shall know what I have done:</l>
                  <l n="285">So, king, go safely on to seek thy son.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exeunt</stage>
            </div>
               <div type="scene">
               <head type="sub">Scene II. Another part of the island.</head>
               <stage>Enter Caliban with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard</stage>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="1">All the infections that the sun sucks up</l>
                  <l n="2">From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall and make him</l>
                  <l n="3">By <ref target="inch_" corresp="inch">inch-meal</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="inch" target="inch_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">As cited
                        from the OED, "Little by little, by every inch."</note> a disease! His
                     spirits hear me</l>
                  <l n="4">And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch,</l>
                  <l n="5">Fright me with <ref target="urchin_" corresp="urchin">urchin-shows</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="urchin" target="urchin_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Apparitions of goblins or elves which sometimes resembled the form of a
                        hedgehog (OED n.1c).</note>, pitch me i' the mire,</l>
                  <l n="6">Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark</l>
                  <l n="7">Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but</l>
                  <l n="8">For every trifle are they set upon me;</l>
                  <l n="9">Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me</l>
                  <l n="10">And after bite me, then like hedgehogs which</l>
                  <l n="11">Lie tumbling in my barefoot way and mount</l>
                  <l n="12">Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I</l>
                  <l n="13">All wound with <ref target="adders_" corresp="adders">adders</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="adders" target="adders" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Any of
                        the various types of venomous snakes or serpents (OED).</note> who with
                     cloven tongues</l>
                  <l n="14">Do hiss me into madness.</l>
                  <stage>Enter Trinculo</stage>
                  <l n="14">Lo, now, lo!</l>
                  <l n="15">Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me</l>
                  <l n="16">For bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall flat;</l>
                  <l n="17">Perchance he will not mind me.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="18">Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off any</l>
                  <l n="19">weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it </l>
                  <l n="20">sing i' the wind: yond same black cloud, yond </l>
                  <l n="21">huge one, looks like a foul bombard that would shed </l>
                  <l n="22">his liquor. If it should thunder as it did before, I know </l>
                  <l n="23">not where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot</l>
                  <l n="24">choose but fall by pailfuls. What have we here? </l>
                  <l n="25">a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells </l>
                  <l n="26">like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like smell; a kind of </l>
                  <l n="27">not of the newest <ref target="PoorJohn_" corresp="PoorJohn">Poor-John</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="PoorJohn" target="PoorJohn_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Poor-John is a "fish salted and dried for food" (OED). </note>. A strange
                     fish! Were I </l>
                  <l n="28">in <placeName type="tgn" key="7002445">England</placeName> now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted,</l>
                  <l n="29">not a holiday fool there but would give a piece</l>
                  <l n="30">of silver: there would this monster <ref target="make_" corresp="make">make</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="make" target="make_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">According
                        to the The Arden Shakespeare edition of <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi>,
                        the archaic phrase "to make a man" meant to make a man's fortune.</note> a
                     man; </l>
                  <l n="31">any strange beast there makes a man: when they will </l>
                  <l n="32">not give a <ref target="doit_" corresp="doit">doit</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="doit" target="doit_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">"The half
                        of an English farthing, as the type of a very small sum" (OED 1.a).</note>
                     to relieve a lame beggar, they will lazy </l>
                  <l n="33">out ten to see a dead Indian. Legged like a man and</l>
                  <l n="34">his fins like arms! Warm o' my troth! I do now let </l>
                  <l n="35">loose my opinion; hold it no longer: this is no fish,</l>
                  <l n="36">but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a</l>
                  <l n="37">thunderbolt.</l>
                  <stage>Thunder</stage>
                  <l n="37">Alas, the storm is come again! my</l>
                  <l n="38"> best way is to creep under his <ref target="gaberdine_" corresp="gaberdine">gaberdine</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="gaberdine" target="gaberdine_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A loose upper garment for men, which worked as a coat or gown woven from
                        coarse fabric (OED A.1.a)</note>; there is no </l>
                  <l n="39">other shelter hereabouts: misery acquaints a man with</l>
                  <l n="40">strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of </l>
                  <l n="41">the storm be past.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Enter Stephano, singing: [a bottle in his hand]</stage>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="42" rend="indent2">I shall no more to sea, to sea,</l>
                  <l n="43" rend="indent2">Here shall I die ashore--</l>
                  <l n="44">This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral: </l>
                  <l n="45">well, here's my comfort. <stage>Drinks</stage>
                  </l>
                  <stage>Sings</stage>
                  <l n="46" rend="indent2">The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I,</l>
                  <l n="47" rend="indent2">The gunner and his mate</l>
                  <l n="48" rend="indent">Loved Mall, Meg and Marian and Margery,</l>
                  <l n="49" rend="indent2">But none of us cared for Kate;</l>
                  <l n="50" rend="indent2">For she had a tongue with a <ref target="tang_" corresp="tang">tang</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="tang" target="tang_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">According
                        to the OED, a pungent or stinging effect (II.5.c); could also mean the
                        strong ringing sound produced when a large bell or an object with sonorous
                        quality is struck (n.2).</note>,</l>
                  <l n="51" rend="indent2">Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!</l>
                  <l n="52" rend="indent">She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch,</l>
                  <l n="53" rend="indent">Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch:</l>
                  <l n="54" rend="indent2">Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang!</l>
                  <l n="55">This is a scurvy tune too: but here's my comfort.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Drinks</stage>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="56">Do not torment me: Oh!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="57">What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do </l>
                  <l n="58">you put tricks upon's with savages and men of <ref target="Ind_" corresp="Ind">
                                        <placeName type="tgn" key="7000208">Ind</placeName>
                                    </ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Ind" target="Ind_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">As cited
                        from the Arden Shakespeare edition of <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi>,
                        Stephano refers to Caliban as a "savage" and compares
                        him to the "men of Ind," whether they are referring to the West Indies (in the
                        Caribbean Sea) or East India is contested. The East India Company was chartered by Elizabeth I in 1600. To read more about Shakespeare and India, see <ref target="https://www.persee.fr/doc/litts_0563-9751_1953_num_2_1_925">this somewhat dated essay</ref> by John Draper.</note>,</l>
                  <l n="59">ha? I have not scaped drowning to be afeard now of </l>
                  <l n="60">your four legs; for it hath been said, As proper a </l>
                  <l n="61">man as <ref target="fourlegs_" corresp="fourlegs">ever went on four
                        legs</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="fourlegs" target="fourlegs_" resp="editors.xml#TH" type="editorial">According to notes in most annotated versions of the play,
                        Stephano here uses a proverbial expression: "As proper a man as ever went on
                        two legs." However, he substitutes "four legs" for "two," given the
                        monstrous creature he sees.</note> cannot make him give </l>
                  <l n="62">ground; and it shall be said so again while Stephano</l>
                  <l n="63">breathes at's nostrils.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="64">The spirit torments me; Oh!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="65">This is some monster of the isle with four legs, </l>
                  <l n="66">who hath got, as I take it, an <ref target="ague_" corresp="ague">ague</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="ague" target="ague" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A state of
                        distress, fear, causing the body to shake or shiver (OED 2).</note>. Where
                     the devil</l>
                  <l n="67">should he learn our language? I will give him some</l>
                  <l n="68">relief, if it be but for that. If I can recover him, and</l>
                  <l n="69">keep him tame and get to <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName> with him, he's a</l>
                  <l n="70">present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's-leather.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="71">Do not torment me, prithee; I'll bring my</l>
                  <l n="72">wood home faster.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="73">He's in his fit now and does not talk after the</l>
                  <l n="74">wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have never</l>
                  <l n="75">drunk wine afore will go near to remove his fit. </l>
                  <l n="76">If I can recover him and keep him tame, I will not take </l>
                  <l n="77">too much for him; he shall pay for him that hath him, </l>
                  <l n="78">and that soundly.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="79">Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt </l>
                  <l n="80">anon, I know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works </l>
                  <l n="81">upon thee.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="82">Come on your ways; open your mouth; here</l>
                  <l n="83"> is that which will give language to you, cat: open your</l>
                  <l n="84">mouth; this will shake your shaking, I can tell you,</l>
                  <l n="85">and that soundly: you cannot tell who's your friend:</l>
                  <l n="86">open your chaps again.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>[Caliban drinks.]</stage>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="87">I should know that voice: it should be--but</l>
                  <pb n="10" facs="pageImages/010.png"/>
                  <l n="88">he is drowned; and these are devils: O defend me!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="89">Four legs and two voices: a most delicate</l>
                  <l n="90">monster! His forward voice now is to speak well </l>
                  <l n="91">of his friend; his backward voice is to utter foul </l>
                  <l n="92">speeches and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle </l>
                  <l n="93">will recover him, I will help his ague. Come. </l>
                  <stage>[Caliban drinks.]</stage>
                  <l n="94">Amen! I will pour some in thy other </l>
                  <l n="95">mouth.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="96">Stephano!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="97">Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy! </l>
                  <l n="98">This is a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I have </l>
                  <l n="99">no long spoon.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="100">Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me and</l>
                  <l n="101">speak to me: for I am Trinculo--be not afeard--thy</l>
                  <l n="102">good friend Trinculo.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="103">If thou beest Trinculo, come forth: I'll pull </l>
                  <l n="104">thee by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo's legs, these</l>
                  <l n="105">are they. Thou art very Trinculo indeed! How</l>
                  <l n="106">camest thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? can he </l>
                  <l n="107">vent Trinculos?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="108">I took him to be killed with a thunder-stroke. </l>
                  <l n="109">But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I hope now thou </l>
                  <l n="110">art not drowned. Is the storm overblown? I hid </l>
                  <l n="111">me under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fear of the</l>
                  <l n="112">storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, </l>
                  <l n="113">two <ref target="Neapolitans_" corresp="Neapolitans">Neapolitans</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Neapolitans" target="Neapolitans_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A citizen of the former kingdom of <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName> in Southern
                        Italy (OED).</note> 'scaped!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="114">Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is</l>
                  <l n="115">not constant.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>

                  <stage>Aside</stage>
                  <l n="116">These be fine things, an if they be not sprites</l>
                  <l n="117">That's a brave god and bears celestial liquor.</l>
                  <l n="118">I will kneel to him.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="119">How didst thou 'scape? How camest thou</l>
                  <l n="120">hither? swear by this bottle how thou camest </l>
                  <l n="121">hither. I escaped upon a butt of sack which the sailors</l>
                  <l n="122">heaved o'erboard, by this bottle; which I made of the </l>
                  <l n="123">bark of a tree with mine own hands since I was cast</l>
                  <l n="124">ashore.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="125">I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true subject;</l>
                  <l n="126">for the liquor is not earthly.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="127">Here; swear then how thou escapedst.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="128">Swum ashore. man, like a duck: I can swim </l>
                  <l n="129">like a duck, I'll be sworn.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="130">Here, kiss the book. <stage>[Passing the bottle.]</stage>
                                </l>
                  <l n="131">Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made like </l>
                  <l n="132">a goose.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="133">O Stephano. hast any more of this?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="134">The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by the</l>
                  <l n="135">sea-side where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf!</l>
                  <l n="136">how does thine ague?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="137">Hast thou not dropp'd from heaven?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="138">Out o' the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man i'</l>
                  <l n="139">the moon when time was.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="140">I have seen thee in her and I do adore thee:</l>
                  <l n="141">My mistress show'd me thee and thy dog and thy bush.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="142">Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will furnish</l>
                  <l n="143">it anon with new contents swear.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>[Caliban drinks.]</stage>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="144">By this good light, this is a very shallow</l>
                  <l n="145">monster! I afeard of him! A very weak monster!</l>
                  <l n="146">
                                    <ref target="man_" corresp="man">The
                        man</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="man" target="man_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Trinculo is
                        referring to the folktale about a man who was banished to the moon because he was caught working
                        on the sabbath day (Arden Shakespeare edition of
                           <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi>).</note>i' the moon! A most poor credulous </l>
                  <l n="17">monster! Well drawn, monster, in good sooth!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse" cert="medium">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="148">I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' island;</l>
                  <l n="149">And I will kiss thy foot: I prithee, be my god.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="150">By this light, a most perfidious and drunken</l>
                  <l n="151">monster! when 's god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse" cert="medium">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="152">I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself thy subject.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="153">Come on then; down, and swear.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="154">I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed</l>
                  <l n="155">monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in my</l>
                  <l n="16">heart to beat him,--</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="157">Come, kiss.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="158">But that the poor monster's in drink: </l>
                  <l n="159">an abominable monster!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="160">I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries;</l>
                  <l n="161">I'll fish for thee and get thee wood enough.</l>
                  <l n="162">A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!</l>
                  <l n="163">I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,</l>
                  <l n="164">Thou wondrous man.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="165">A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a</l>
                  <l n="166">Poor drunkard!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="167">I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow;</l>
                  <l n="168">And I with my long nails will dig thee <ref target="pignuts_" corresp="pignuts">pignuts</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="pignuts" target="pignuts_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">From the OED, 'The sweetish edible tuber of Conopodium majus, a
                        fine-leaved plant of the family Apiaceae (Umbelliferae) of acid pastures
                        and woods in western Europe; the plant itself. Also called
                     earthnut.'</note>;</l>
                  <l n="169">Show thee a jay's nest and instruct thee how</l>
                  <l n="170">To snare the nimble <ref target="marmoset_" corresp="marmoset">marmoset</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="marmoset" target="marmoset_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A
                        small monkey to be captured as a pet or for eating</note>; I'll bring
                     thee</l>
                  <l n="171">To clustering <ref target="filberts_" corresp="filberts">filberts</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="filberts" target="filberts_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">"The fruit or nut of the cultivated hazel" (OED)</note> and sometimes I'll
                     get thee</l>
                  <l n="172">Young <ref target="scamels_" corresp="scamels">scamels</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="scamels" target="scamels" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">As
                        noted in the Arden Shakespeare, the meaning of this word is heavily contested, possibly because of printing errors. Scholars assume that it could mean
                        "seamews," a bird that feeds on fish, or a
                        custacean, bird or a fish that frequent rocks. The OED defines the meaning
                        as uncertain.</note> from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="173">I prithee now, lead the way without any more</l>
                  <l n="174">talking. Trinculo, the king and all our company</l>
                  <l n="175">else being drowned, we will inherit here: here;</l>
                  <l n="176">bear my bottle: fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by</l>
                  <l n="177">and by again.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse" cert="medium">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="178">
                     <stage>(Sings drunkenly.)</stage>
                  
                  Farewell master; farewell, farewell!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp>
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="179">A howling monster: a drunken monster!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="song">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="180" rend="indent">No more dams I'll make for fish</l>
                  <l n="181" rend="indent2">Nor fetch in firing</l>
                  <l n="182" rend="indent2">At requiring;</l>
                  <l n="183" rend="indent">Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish</l>
                  <l n="184" rend="indent2">'Ban, 'Ban, CaCaliban</l>
                  <l n="185" rend="indent2">Has a new master: get a new man.</l>
                  <l n="186">Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom,</l>
                  <l n="187">hey-day, freedom!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="188">O brave monster! Lead the way.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exeunt</stage>
            </div>
         </div>

         <div type="act">
            <head type="sub">Act III</head>
            <div type="scene">
               <head type="sub">Scene I. Before Prospero's Cell.</head>
               <stage>Enter Ferdinand, bearing a log</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="1">There be some sports are painful, and their labour</l>
                  <l n="2">Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness</l>
                  <l n="3">Are nobly undergone and most poor matters</l>
                  <l n="4">Point to rich ends. This my mean task</l>
                  <l n="5">Would be as heavy to me as odious, but</l>
                  <l n="6">The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead</l>
                  <l n="7">And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is</l>
                  <l n="8">Ten times more gentle than her father's <ref target="crabbed_" corresp="crabbed">crabbed</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="crabbed" target="crabbed_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD"> A
                        verb that originated in the 1400's, which means to be Irritated or enraged.
                        (OED v. 1a)</note>,</l>
                  <l n="9">And he's composed of harshness. I must remove</l>
                  <l n="10">Some thousands of these logs and pile them up,</l>
                  <l n="11">Upon a sore injunction: my sweet mistress</l>
                  <l n="12">Weeps when she sees me work, and says, such baseness</l>
                  <l n="13">Had never like executor. I forget:</l>
                  <l n="14">But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours,</l>
                  <l n="15">Most busy lest, when I do it.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Enter Miranda; and Prospero at a distance, unseen</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l n="15">Alas, now, pray you,</l>
                  <l n="16">Work not so hard: I would the lightning had</l>
                  <l n="17">Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin'd to pile!</l>
                  <l n="18">Pray, set it down and rest you: when this burns,</l>
                  <l n="19">'Twill weep for having wearied you. My father</l>
                  <l n="20">Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself;</l>
                  <pb n="11" facs="pageImages/011.png"/>
                  <l n="21">He's safe for these three hours.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="21">O most dear mistress,</l>
                  <l n="22">The sun will set before I shall discharge</l>
                  <l n="23">What I must strive to do.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l n="23">If you'll sit down,</l>
                  <l n="24">I'll bear your logs the while: pray, give me that;</l>
                  <l n="25">I'll carry it to the pile.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="25">No, precious creature;</l>
                  <l n="26">I had rather crack my <ref target="sinews_" corresp="sinews">sinews</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="sinews" target="sinews_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">
                        Fibrous chords that connect the muscles to the bone (OED).</note>, break my
                     back,</l>
                  <l n="27">Than you should such dishonour undergo,</l>
                  <l n="28">While I sit lazy by.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l n="28">It would become me</l>
                  <l n="29">As well as it does you: and I should do it</l>
                  <l n="30">With much more ease; for my good will is to it,</l>
                  <l n="31">And yours it is against.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                                <stage>[Aside.]</stage>
                  <l n="31">Poor <ref target="worm_" corresp="worm">worm</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="worm" target="worm_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD"> Prospero
                        is using the noun worm as a term of endearment when speaking about his
                        daughter, also working as a metaphor her delicate and simple nature.</note>,
                     thou art infected!</l>
                  <l n="32">This visitation shows it.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l n="32">You look wearily.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="33">No, noble mistress;'tis fresh morning with me</l>
                  <l n="34">When you are by at night. I do beseech you--</l>
                  <l n="35">Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers--</l>
                  <l n="36">What is your name?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l n="36">Miranda.--O my father,</l>
                  <l n="37">I have broke your <ref target="hest_" corresp="hest">hest</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="hest" target="hest_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD"> An
                        archaic word that means command or behest (OED).</note> to say so!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="37">
                                    <ref target="Admired_" corresp="Admired">Admired Miranda</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Admired" target="Admired_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">
                        The name Miranda means "to be wondered at" or to be admired. Ferdinand is
                        seen to be using word-play.</note>!</l>
                  <l n="38">Indeed the top of admiration! worth</l>
                  <l n="39">What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady</l>
                  <l n="40">I have eyed with best regard and many a time</l>
                  <l n="41">The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage</l>
                  <l n="42">Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues</l>
                  <l n="43">Have I liked several women; never any</l>
                  <l n="44">With so fun soul, but some defect in her</l>
                  <l n="45">Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed</l>
                  <l n="46">And put it to the <ref target="foil_" corresp="foil">foil</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="foil" target="foil_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD"> Here,
                        foil either refers to a fencing sword or to a verb that means to
                        thwart.</note>: but you, O you,</l>
                  <l n="47">So perfect and so peerless, are created</l>
                  <l n="48">Of every creature's best!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l n="48">I do not know</l>
                  <l n="49">One of my sex; no woman's face remember,</l>
                  <l n="50">Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen</l>
                  <l n="51">More that I may call men than you, good friend,</l>
                  <l n="52">And my dear father: how features are abroad,</l>
                  <l n="53">I am skilless of; but, by my modesty,</l>
                  <l n="54">
                                    <ref target="jewel_" corresp="jewel">The jewel in my dower</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="jewel" target="jewel_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">
                        Miranda presents her modesty, which also may refer to her virginity, as her
                        greatly priced jewel that she is able to offer Ferdinand as dowry for
                        marriage which represents what society greatly valued in a young woman when
                        it came to marriage.</note>, I would not wish</l>
                  <l n="55">Any companion in the world but you,</l>
                  <l n="56">Nor can imagination form a shape,</l>
                  <l n="57">Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle</l>
                  <l n="58">Something too wildly and my father's precepts</l>
                  <l n="59">I therein do forget.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="59">I am in my condition</l>
                  <l n="60">A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king;</l>
                  <l n="61">I would, not so!--and would no more endure</l>
                  <l n="62">This wooden slavery than to suffer</l>
                  <l n="63">
                                    <ref target="fly_" corresp="fly">flesh-fly</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="fly" target="fly_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Flies that
                        generally lay their eggs in carcasses.</note> blow my mouth. Hear my soul
                     speak:</l>
                  <l n="64">The very instant that I saw you, did</l>
                  <l n="65">My heart fly to your service; there resides,</l>
                  <l n="66">To make me slave to it; and for your sake</l>
                  <l n="67">Am I this patient log--man.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l n="67">Do you love me?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="68">O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound</l>
                  <l n="69">And crown what I profess with kind event</l>
                  <l n="70">If I speak true! if hollowly, invert</l>
                  <l n="71">What best is boded me to mischief! I</l>
                  <l n="72">Beyond all limit of what else i' the world</l>
                  <l n="73">Do love, prize, honour you.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l n="73">I am a fool</l>
                  <l n="74">To weep at what I am glad of.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                                <stage>[Aside.]</stage>
                  <l n="74">Fair encounter</l>
                  <l n="75">Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace</l>
                  <l n="76">On that which breeds between 'em!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="76">Wherefore weep you?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l n="77">At mine unworthiness that dare not offer</l>
                  <l n="78">What I desire to give, and much less take</l>
                  <l n="79">What I shall die to want. But this is trifling;</l>
                  <l n="80">And all the more it seeks to hide itself,</l>
                  <l n="81">The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning!</l>
                  <l n="82">And prompt me, plain and holy innocence!</l>
                  <l n="83">I am your wife, if you will marry me;</l>
                  <l n="84">If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow</l>
                  <l n="85">You may deny me; but I'll be your servant,</l>
                  <l n="86">Whether you will or no.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="86">My mistress, dearest;</l>
                  <l n="87">And I thus humble ever.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l n="87">My husband, then?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="88">Ay, with a heart as willing</l>
                  <l n="89">As bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l n="90">And mine, with my heart in't; and now farewell</l>
                  <l n="91">
                                    <ref target="hour_" corresp="hour">Till half an hour hence</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="hour" target="hour_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD"> Another
                        indication of the procession of time in this play.</note>.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="91">A thousand thousand!</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exeunt [Ferdinand and Miranda <ref target="severally_" corresp="severally">severally</ref>]
                  <note xml:id="severally" target="severally" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">They exit at different points from the stage.</note>
                            </stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="92">So glad of this as they I cannot be,</l>
                  <l n="93">Who are surprised withal; but my rejoicing</l>
                  <l n="94">At nothing can be more. I'll to my book,</l>
                  <l n="95">For yet ere supper-time must I perform</l>
                  <l n="96">Much business appertaining.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exit</stage>
            </div>
            <div type="scene">
               <head type="sub">Scene II. Another part of the island.</head>
               <stage>Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo</stage>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="1">Tell not me; when the butt is out, we will drink</l>
                  <l n="2">water; not a drop before: therefore bear up, and</l>
                  <l n="3">board 'em. Servant-monster, drink to me.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="4">Servant-monster! the folly of this island! They</l>
                  <l n="5">say there's but five upon this isle: we are three</l>
                  <l n="6">of them; if th' other two be brained like us, the</l>
                  <l n="7">state <ref target="totters_" corresp="totters">totters</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="totters" target="totters_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">An
                        unsteady or shaky movement (OED).</note>.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="8">Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee: thy eyes</l>
                  <l n="9">are almost set in thy head.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="10">Where should they be set else? he were a brave</l>
                  <l n="11">monster indeed, if they were set in his tail.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="12">My man-monster hath drown'd his tongue in sack:</l>
                  <l n="13">for my part, the sea cannot drown me; I swam, ere I</l>
                  <l n="14">could recover the shore, five and thirty leagues off</l>
                  <l n="15">and on. By this light, thou shalt be my lieutenant,</l>
                  <l n="16">monster, or my <ref target="standard_" corresp="standard">standard</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="standard" target="standard_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">According to the OED, A standard is an obsolete term,
                        referring to "a person who carries a standard, often as a permanent
                        duty'.</note>.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="17">Your lieutenant, if you list; he's no standard.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="18">We'll not run, Monsieur Monster.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="19">Nor go neither; but you'll lie like dogs and yet say</l>
                  <l n="20">nothing neither.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="21">Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a</l>
                  <l n="22">good moon-calf.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="23">How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe.</l>
                  <l n="24">I'll not serve him; he's not valiant.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="25">Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in case to</l>
                  <l n="26">
                                    <ref target="constable_" corresp="constable">justle a
                        constable</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="constable" target="constable_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Trinculo claims that he is ready to fight a constable,
                        who is the chief officer of the court (OED).</note>. Why, thou <ref target="deboshed_" corresp="deboshed">deboshed</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="deboshed" target="deboshed_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A variant of the term
                        debauched--over-indulging in sensual pleasures, including drinking
                        (OED).</note> fish thou,</l>
                  <l n="27">was there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much</l>
                  <l n="28">sack as I to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie,</l>
                  <l n="29">being but half a fish and half a monster?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="30">Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, my lord?</l>
               </sp>
               <pb n="12" facs="pageImages/012.png"/>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="31">'Lord' quoth he! That a monster should be such a natural!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="32">Lo, lo, again! bite him to death, I prithee.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="33">Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head: if you</l>
                  <l n="34">prove a mutineer,--the next tree! The poor monster's</l>
                  <l n="35">my subject and he shall not suffer indignity.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="36">I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleased to</l>
                  <l n="37">hearken once again to the suit I made to thee?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="38">Marry, will I kneel and repeat it; I will stand,</l>
                  <l n="39">and so shall Trinculo.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Enter Ariel, <ref target="invisible_" corresp="invisible">invisible</ref>
                  <note xml:id="invisible_" target="invisible" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Ariel is accompanied by his fellow spirits as he sings his
                  song.</note>
                            </stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="40">As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, a</l>
                  <l n="41">sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="42">Thou liest.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="43">Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou: I would my</l>
                  <l n="44">valiant master would destroy thee! I do not lie.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="45">Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale, by</l>
                  <l n="46">this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="47">Why, I said nothing.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="48">Mum, then, and no more. Proceed.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="49">I say, by sorcery he got this isle;</l>
                  <l n="50">From me he got it. if thy greatness will</l>
                  <l n="51">Revenge it on him,--for I know thou darest,</l>
                  <l n="52">But this thing dare not,--</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="53">That's most certain.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="54">Thou shalt be lord of it and I'll serve thee.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="55">How now shall this be compassed?</l>
                  <l n="56">Canst thou bring me to the party?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="57">Yea, yea, my lord: I'll yield him thee asleep,</l>
                  <l n="58">Where thou mayst knock a nail into his bead.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="59">Thou liest; thou canst not.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="60">What a <ref target="ninny_" corresp="ninny">pied ninny</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="ninny" target="ninny_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">"Pied"
                        refers to the many-colored or mixed-up costume a jester would wear. A
                        "ninny" is a simpleton.</note>'s this! Thou scurvy patch!</l>
                  <l n="61">I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows</l>
                  <l n="62">And take his bottle from him: when that's gone</l>
                  <l n="63">He shall drink nought but <ref target="brine_" corresp="brine_">brine</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="brine" target="brine_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Salty sea water.</note>; for I'll not show him</l>
                  <l n="64">Where the quick freshes are.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="65">Trinculo, run into no further danger:</l>
                  <l n="66">interrupt the monster one word further, and,</l>
                  <l n="67">by this hand, I'll turn my mercy out o' doors</l>
                  <l n="68">and make a stock-fish of thee.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="69">Why, what did I? I did nothing. I'll go farther</l>
                  <l n="70">off.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="71">Didst thou not say he lied?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="72">Thou liest.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="73">Do I so? take thou that.</l>
                  <stage>Beats Trinculo</stage>
                  <l n="74">As you like this, give me the lie another time.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="75">I did not give the lie. Out o' your</l>
                  <l n="76">wits and bearing too? A <ref target="pox_" corresp="pox">pox</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="pox" target="pox_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">An exclamation
                        of frustration or anger; Trinculo wishes the pox--syphillis--upon Stephano's
                        drinking. (OED).</note> o' your bottle!</l>
                  <l n="77">this can sack and drinking do. A <ref target="murrain_" corresp="murrain">murrain</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="murrain" target="murrain_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">a deadly infectious disease (OED).</note>
                     on</l>
                  <l n="78">your monster, and the devil take your fingers!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="79">Ha, ha, ha!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="80">Now, forward with your tale. Prithee, stand farther</l>
                  <l n="81">off.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="82">Beat him enough: after a little time</l>
                  <l n="83">I'll beat him too.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="84">Stand farther. Come, proceed.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="85">Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him,</l>
                  <l n="86">I' th' afternoon to sleep: there thou mayst brain him,</l>
                  <l n="87">Having first seized his books, or with a log</l>
                  <l n="88">Batter his skull, or <ref target="paunch_" corresp="paunch">paunch</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="paunch" target="paunch_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">To stab or wound in the stomach (OED).</note> him with
                     a stake,</l>
                  <l n="89">Or cut his <ref target="wezand_" corresp="wezand">wezand</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="wezand" target="wezand_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">The
                        throat or windpipe.</note> with thy knife. Remember</l>
                  <l n="90">First to possess his books; for without them</l>
                  <l n="91">He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not</l>
                  <l n="92">One spirit to command: they all do hate him</l>
                  <l n="93">As rootedly as I. Burn but his books.</l>
                  <l n="94">He has brave utensils,--for so he calls them--</l>
                  <l n="95">Which when he has a house, he'll deck withal</l>
                  <l n="96">And that most deeply to consider is</l>
                  <l n="97">The beauty of his daughter; he himself</l>
                  <l n="98">Calls her a <ref target="nonpareil_" corresp="nonpareil">nonpareil</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="nonpareil" target="nonpareil" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">incomparable</note>: I never saw a woman,</l>
                  <l n="99">But only Sycorax my dam and she;</l>
                  <l n="100">But she as far surpasseth Sycorax</l>
                  <l n="101">As great'st does least.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="102">Is it so brave a lass?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="103">Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I warrant.</l>
                  <l n="104">And bring thee forth brave brood.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="105">Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter and I</l>
                  <l n="106">will be king and queen--save our graces!--and</l>
                  <l n="107">Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys. Dost thou</l>
                  <l n="108">like the plot, Trinculo?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="109">Excellent.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="110">Give me thy hand: I am sorry I beat thee; but,</l>
                  <l n="111">while thou livest, keep a good tongue in thy head.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="112">Within this half hour will he be asleep:</l>
                  <l n="113">Wilt thou destroy him then?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="114">Ay, on mine honour.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="115">This will I tell my master.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="116">Thou makest me merry; I am full of pleasure:</l>
                  <l n="117">Let us be jocund: will you troll the catch</l>
                  <l n="118">You taught me but while-ere?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="119">At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any</l>
                  <l n="120">reason. Come on, Trinculo, let us sing.</l>
                  <stage>Sings</stage>
                  <l n="121">Flout 'em and scout 'em</l>
                  <l n="122">And scout 'em and flout 'em</l>
                  <l n="123">Thought is free.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="124">That's not the tune.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Ariel plays the tune on a tabour and pipe</stage>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="125">What is this same?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="126">This is the tune of our catch, played by the picture</l>
                  <l n="127">of Nobody.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="128">If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness:</l>
                  <l n="129">if thou beest a devil, take't as thou list.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="130">O, forgive me my sins!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="131">He that dies pays all debts: I defy thee. Mercy upon us!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="132">Art thou afeard?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="133">No, monster, not I.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="134">
                                    <ref target="afeard_" corresp="afeard">Be not afeard</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="afeard" target="afeard_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#LD">The
                        following speech by Caliban is one of the most famous and studied passages
                        of the play. Caliban who had lived his entire life on the island feels a
                        deeper connection to its beauty and richness.</note>; the isle is full of
                     noises,</l>
                  <l n="135">Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.</l>
                  <l n="136">Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments</l>
                  <l n="137">Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices</l>
                  <l n="138">That, if I then had waked after long sleep,</l>
                  <l n="139">Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,</l>
                  <l n="140">The clouds methought would open and show riches</l>
                  <l n="141">Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked,</l>
                  <l n="142">I cried to dream again.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="143">This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall</l>
                  <l n="144">have my music for nothing.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="145">When Prospero is destroyed.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="146">That shall be by and by: I remember the story.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="147">The sound is going away; let's follow it, and</l>
                  <l n="148">after do our work.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="149">Lead, monster; we'll follow. I would I could see</l>
                  <l n="150">this tabourer; he lays it on.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="151">Wilt come? I'll follow, Stephano.</l>
               </sp>
               <pb n="13" facs="pageImages/013.png"/>
               <stage>Exeunt</stage>
            </div>
            <div type="scene">
               <head type="sub">Scene III. Another part of the island.</head>
               <stage>Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and
                  others</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="1">
                                    <ref target="lakin_" corresp="lakin">By'r lakin</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="lakin" target="lakin_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">An obsolete form of the
                        phrase 'by our Lady', denoting the Virgin Mary (OED n.2).</note>, I can go
                     no further, sir;</l>
                  <l n="2">My old bones ache: here's a maze trod indeed</l>
                  <l n="3">Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience,</l>
                  <l n="4">I needs must rest me.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="5">Old lord, I cannot blame thee,</l>
                  <l n="6">Who am myself attach'd with weariness,</l>
                  <l n="7">To the dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest.</l>
                  <l n="8">Even here I will put off my hope and keep it</l>
                  <l n="9">No longer for my flatterer: he is drown'd</l>
                  <l n="10">Whom thus we stray to find, and the sea mocks</l>
                  <l n="11">Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="12">
                     <stage>Aside to Sebastian</stage> I am right glad that he's so out of hope.</l>
                  <l n="14">Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose</l>
                  <l n="15">That you resolved to effect.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="16">
                     <stage>Aside to Antonio</stage> The next advantage </l>
                  <l n="17">Will we take throughly.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="18">
                     <stage>Aside to Sebastian</stage> Let it be to-night; </l>
                  <l n="19">For, now they are oppress'd with travel, they</l>
                  <l n="20">Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance</l>
                  <l n="21">As when they are fresh.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="22">
                     <stage>Aside to Antonio</stage> I say, to-night: no more. </l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Solemn and strange music</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="23">What harmony is this? My good friends, hark!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="24">Marvellous sweet music!</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Enter Prospero <ref target="above_" corresp="above">above</ref>
                  <note xml:id="above" target="above_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">In this
                     scene, the upper stage allows Prospero's character secretly observe the plot
                     transpiring below on the main stage.</note>, invisible. Enter several strange
                  Shapes, bringing in a banquet; they dance about it with gentle actions of
                  salutation; and, inviting the King, &amp;c. to eat, they depart</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="25">Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="26">A living <ref target="drollery_" corresp="drollery">drollery</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="drollery" target="drollery_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A
                        comical entertainment in the form of a puppet-show (OED 2.a)</note>. Now I
                     will believe</l>
                  <l n="27">That there are unicorns, that in <placeName type="tgn" key="1012700">Arabia</placeName>
                                </l>
                  <l n="28">There is one tree, the phoenix' throne, one phoenix</l>
                  <l n="29">At this hour reigning there.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="30">I'll believe both;</l>
                  <l n="31">And what does else want <ref target="credit_" corresp="credit">credit</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="credit" target="credit_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">lacking in credibility</note>, come to me,</l>
                  <l n="32">And I'll be sworn 'tis true: travellers ne'er did lie,</l>
                  <l n="33">Though fools at home condemn 'em.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="34">If in <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName>
                                </l>
                  <l n="35">I should report this now, would they believe me?</l>
                  <l n="36">If I should say, I saw such islanders--</l>
                  <l n="37">For, <ref target="certes_" corresp="certes">certes</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="certes" target="certes_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">An
                        archaic form of the term meaning certainly, assuredly (OED).</note>, these
                     are people of the island--</l>
                  <l n="38">Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, note,</l>
                  <l n="39">Their manners are more gentle-kind than of</l>
                  <l n="40">Our human generation you shall find</l>
                  <l n="41">Many, nay, almost any.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="42">
                     <stage>Aside</stage> Honest lord, </l>
                  <l n="43">Thou hast said well; for some of you there present</l>
                  <l n="44">Are worse than devils.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="45">I cannot too much muse</l>
                  <l n="46">Such shapes, such gesture and such sound, expressing,</l>
                  <l n="47">Although they want the use of tongue, a kind</l>
                  <l n="48">Of excellent dumb discourse.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="49">
                     <stage>Aside</stage> Praise in departing. </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Francisco</speaker>
                  <l n="50">They vanish'd strangely.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="51">No matter, since</l>
                  <l n="52">They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs.</l>
                  <l n="53">Will't please you taste of what is here?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="54">Not I.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="55">Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys,</l>
                  <l n="56">Who would believe that there were mountaineers</l>
                  <l n="57">
                                    <ref target="bulls_" corresp="bulls">Dew-lapp'd like bulls</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="bulls" target="bulls_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Gonzalo
                        describes the physical attributes of the indigenous people living on the
                        island, commenting that their necks have a similar folding of excessive
                        loose skin that hangs from the throats of cattle (OED).</note>, whose
                     throats had hanging at 'em</l>
                  <l n="58">Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men</l>
                  <l n="59">Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find</l>
                  <l n="60">Each putter-out of five for one will bring us</l>
                  <l n="61">Good warrant of.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="62">I will stand to and feed,</l>
                  <l n="63">Although my last: no matter, since I feel</l>
                  <l n="64">The best is past. Brother, my lord the duke,</l>
                  <l n="65">Stand to and do as we.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Thunder and lightning. Enter Ariel, like a <ref target="harpy_" corresp="harpy">harpy</ref>
                  <note xml:id="harpy" target="harpy_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#LD">
                                    <graphic url="notes/16027.jpg" alt="An illustration of a harpy from 1642" desc="Illustration of a harpy from Monstrorum Historia (1642)" source="https://www.worldhistory.org/Harpy"/>Ariel appears in the form of a harpy, a
                     greedy and fearsome mythological creature that metes out divine justice and
                     vengeance. Harpies have the head and body of a woman and the wings and claws of
                     a bird. Ariel is imagined as wreaking the 'divine' vengeance of Prospero. This
                     annotation and image are sourced from <ref target="https://www.worldhistory.org/Harpy/">World History
                        Encyclopedia</ref>. The image here, also from the World History
                     Encyclopedia, is an illustration of the harpy from Ulisse Aldrovandi's <hi rend="italic">Monstrorum Historia</hi>, Bologna, 1642.</note>; claps his
                  wings upon the table; and, with a quaint device, the banquet vanishes</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="66">You are three men of sin, whom Destiny,</l>
                  <l n="67">That hath to instrument this lower world</l>
                  <l n="68">And what is in't, the never-<ref target="surfeited_" corresp="surfeited">surfeited</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="surfeited" target="surfeited_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">The insatiable nature of the sea.</note> sea</l>
                  <l n="69">Hath caused to belch up you; and on this island</l>
                  <l n="70">Where man doth not inhabit; you 'mongst men</l>
                  <l n="71">Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad;</l>
                  <l n="72">And even with such-like valour men hang and drown</l>
                  <l n="73">Their proper selves.</l>
                  <stage>Alonso, Sebastian &amp;c. draw their swords</stage>
                  <l n="74">You fools! I and my fellows</l>
                  <l n="75">Are ministers of Fate: the elements,</l>
                  <l n="76">Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well</l>
                  <l n="77">Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs</l>
                  <l n="78">Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish</l>
                  <l n="79">One <ref target="dowle_" corresp="dowle">dowle</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="dowle" target="dowle_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">The OED define dowl as
                        "One of the filaments of fibres of a feather'</note> that's in my plume: my
                     fellow-ministers</l>
                  <l n="80">Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt,</l>
                  <l n="81">Your swords are now too massy for your strengths</l>
                  <l n="82">And will not be uplifted. But remember--</l>
                  <l n="83">For that's my business to you--that you three</l>
                  <l n="84">From <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName> did supplant good Prospero;</l>
                  <l n="85">Exposed unto the sea, which hath <ref target="requit_" corresp="requit">requit</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="requit" target="requit_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">To repay, compensation (OED)</note> it,</l>
                  <l n="86">Him and his innocent child: for which foul deed</l>
                  <l n="87">The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have</l>
                  <l n="88">Incensed the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures,</l>
                  <l n="89">Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso,</l>
                  <l n="90">They have bereft; and do pronounce by me:</l>
                  <l n="91">Lingering perdition, worse than any death</l>
                  <l n="92">Can be at once, shall step by step attend</l>
                  <l n="93">You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from--</l>
                  <l n="94">Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls</l>
                  <l n="95">Upon your heads--is nothing but heart-sorrow</l>
                  <l n="96">And a clear life ensuing.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>He vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music enter the Shapes again, and dance,
                  with <ref target="mocks_" corresp="mocks">mocks</ref>
                  <note xml:id="mocks" target="mocks_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">grimacing
                     facial expressions</note>, and carrying out the table</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="97">Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou</l>
                  <l n="98">Perform'd, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring:</l>
                  <l n="99">Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated</l>
                  <l n="100">In what thou hadst to say: so, with good life</l>
                  <l n="101">And observation strange, my meaner ministers</l>
                  <l n="102">Their several kinds have done. My high charms work</l>
                  <l n="103">And these mine enemies are all <ref target="knit_" corresp="knit">knit</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="knit" target="knit_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Entangled by their temporary madness</note> up</l>
                  <l n="104">In their distractions; they now are in my power;</l>
                  <l n="105">And in these fits I leave them, while I visit</l>
                  <l n="106">Young Ferdinand, whom they suppose is drown'd,</l>
                  <l n="107">And his and mine loved darling.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exit above</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="108">I' the name of something holy, sir, why stand you</l>
                  <l n="109">In this strange stare?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="110">O, it is monstrous, monstrous:</l>
                  <l n="111">Methought the billows spoke and told me of it;</l>
                  <l n="112">The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder,</l>
                  <l n="113">That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced</l>
                  <l n="114">The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass.</l>
                  <l n="115">Therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded, and</l>
                  <l n="116">I'll seek him deeper than e'er <ref target="plummet_" corresp="plummet">plummet</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="plummet" target="plummet" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">As cited from the OED, 'A piece of lead or other heavy
                        material attached to a line, used for measuring the depth of water; a
                        sounding lead' or a plumb.</note> sounded</l>
                  <l n="117">And with him there lie mudded.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exit</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="118">But one fiend at a time,</l>
                  <l n="119">I'll fight their legions o'er.</l>
               </sp>
               <pb n="14" facs="pageImages/014.png"/>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="120">I'll be thy second.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exeunt Sebastian, and Antonio</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="121">All three of them are desperate: their great guilt,</l>
                  <l n="122">Like poison given to work a great time after,</l>
                  <l n="123">Now 'gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you</l>
                  <l n="124">That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly</l>
                  <l n="125">And hinder them from what this ecstasy</l>
                  <l n="126">May now provoke them to.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Adrian</speaker>
                  <l n="127">Follow, I pray you.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exeunt</stage>
            </div>
         </div>
         <div type="act">
            <head type="sub">Act IV</head>
            <div type="scene">
               <head type="sub">Scene I. Before Prospero's cell.</head>
               <stage>Enter Prospero, Ferdinand, and Miranda</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="1">If I have too austerely punish'd you,</l>
                  <l n="2">Your compensation makes amends, for I</l>
                  <l n="3">Have given you here <ref target="third_" corresp="third">a third of mine
                        own life</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="third" target="third_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">As noted in the Arden Shakespeare edition of <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi>, there could be several explanations for
                        this line; some scholars believe that it is an indication of Prospero's age
                        being 45 years as Miranda is known to 15 years of age in the play, others
                        also believe that he his speaking metaphorically claiming that his daughter
                        is one of the three most valuable treasures of this life, apart from his
                        dukedom and his art.</note>,</l>
                  <l n="4">Or that for which I live; who once again</l>
                  <l n="5">I tender to thy hand: all thy vexations</l>
                  <l n="6">Were but my trials of thy love and thou</l>
                  <l n="7">Hast strangely stood the test here, afore Heaven,</l>
                  <l n="8">I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand,</l>
                  <l n="9">Do not smile at me that I boast her off,</l>
                  <l n="10">For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise</l>
                  <l n="11">And make it halt behind her.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="12">I do believe it</l>
                  <l n="13">
                                    <ref target="oracle_" corresp="oracle">Against an oracle.</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="oracle" target="oracle_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">An
                        oracle, in ancient Greece and Rome, was a person who was believed to be a
                        medium through which the Gods would use to communicate with the masses.
                        These people were often priests and priestesses (OED).</note>.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="14">Then, as my gift and thine own acquisition</l>
                  <l n="15">Worthily purchased take my daughter: but</l>
                  <l n="16">If thou dost break her <ref target="virgin_" corresp="virgin">virgin-knot</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="virgin" target="virgin_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Prospero warns Ferdinand against taking his daughter’s
                        virginity before their official union.</note> before</l>
                  <l n="17">All sanctimonious ceremonies may</l>
                  <l n="18">With full and holy rite be minister'd,</l>
                  <l n="19">No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall</l>
                  <l n="20">To make this contract grow: but barren hate,</l>
                  <l n="21">Sour-eyed disdain and discord shall bestrew</l>
                  <l n="21">The union of your bed with weeds so loathly</l>
                  <l n="21">That you shall hate it both: therefore take heed,</l>
                  <l n="21">
                                    <ref target="hymen_" corresp="hymen">As Hymen's lamps</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="hymen" target="hymen_" resp="editors.xml#LD">Hymen is the God of
                        marriage of Greek and Roman mythology, who with his torches/lamps would
                        signify if the union between a couple would prosper or perish, depending on
                        whether the flame burned clear, or smoked. (Shakespeare Navigators)</note>
                     shall light you.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="21">As I hope</l>
                  <l n="21">For quiet days, fair issue and long life,</l>
                  <l n="21">With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den,</l>
                  <l n="21">The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion.</l>
                  <l n="21">Our worser genius can, shall never melt</l>
                  <l n="30">Mine honour into lust, to take away</l>
                  <l n="31">The edge of that day's celebration</l>
                  <l n="32">When I shall think: or <ref target="phoebus_" corresp="phoebus">Phoebus'
                        steeds</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="phoebus" target="phoebus_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Phoebus Apollo, the God of light or of the sun, was
                        often characterized by riding his chariot of the sun drawn by his steeds.
                        Here, Ferdinand vows to uphold Miranda's honor by not engaging in the
                        consummation of their union until they are wed, lest the sun never set not
                        the night ever arrive for their wedding night. (The Arden edition of
                        Shakespeare <hi rend="italic"> The Tempest</hi>)</note> are founder'd,</l>
                  <l n="33">Or Night kept chain'd below.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>Fairly spoke.</l>
                  <l n="34">Sit then and talk with her; she is thine own.</l>
                  <l n="35">What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel!</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Enter Ariel</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="36">What would my potent master? here I am.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="37">Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service</l>
                  <l n="38">Did worthily perform; and I must use you</l>
                  <l n="39">In such another trick. Go bring the <ref target="rabble_" corresp="rabble">rabble</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="rabble" target="rabble_" resp="editors.xml#LD" type="gloss">A loud and disorderly crowd (OED).
                        Prospero gives Ariel the power to summon the spirits Iris, Ceres and Juno.
                        The word rabble here is used in a derogatory sense.</note>,</l>
                  <l n="40">O'er whom I give thee power, here to this place:</l>
                  <l n="41">Incite them to quick motion; for I must</l>
                  <l n="42">Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple</l>
                  <l n="43">
                                    <ref target="masque_" corresp="masque">Some vanity of mine
                        art</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="masque" target="masque_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#LD">
                                        <p>
                                            <graphic url="notes/fiery_spirit.png" alt="A colored illustration showing an athletic young man dressed in fluttering fabric that resembles flames" source="https://www.jstor.org/stable/41830403"/>Prospero
                           plans to use his magic to create the fantastic entertainment of a masque
                           for the young couple. According to <ref target="https://www.hrp.org.uk/banqueting-house/history-and-stories/the-masque/">material hosted by the Royal Historic Palaces</ref>, masques were
                           elaborate court entertainments staged for and often by nobility. They
                           involved a variety of performance types--ballet, opera, music, and
                           theater--combined in a highly visual and stylized manner. By the early
                           17th century, when Shakespeare wrote and performed The Tempest, they had
                           become highly elaborate. The Royal Banqueting House, designed by Inigo
                           Jones and completed in 1622, was purpose-built for the staging of
                           masques. The most popular early court masques were developed by Jones in
                           partnership with Ben Jonson.</p>
                        <p> Thematically, masques represented and reinforced the divinity of the
                           monarchy and symbolized a world of order in opposition to the baseness
                           and disorder that reigned before the emergence of the Stuart Court. In
                           The Tempest, Prospero conjures the masque as a gift for the young couple,
                           Miranda and Ferdinand, who will marry upon their return to <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName> and
                           return order to the throne. This masque, like all masques, then, is a
                           statement of political power. </p>
                        <p> The image included here, from the illustrated catalog of masque designs
                           owned by the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire, shows a page dressed as a
                           fiery spirit--this character, like the nymphs and reapers in Prospero’s
                           masque, would likely have been a dancing role rather than a more
                           important speaking role. </p>
                        <p> An exceptional illustrated source is <ref target="https://www.jstor.org/stable/41830403">“Designs by Inigo Jones
                              for Masques &amp; Plays at Court,”</ref> a descriptive catalog of a
                           key collection of masque designs, now hosted in JSTOR. The image included
                           here, from that illustrated catalog of masque designs, shows a page
                           dressed as a fiery spirit. </p>
                       <p> Brunel University <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName> has produced a <ref target="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OoGbujLw688">360° video of a
                              modern version of a 17th century court masque</ref>, performed in the
                          Royal Banqueting House; the video is accessible via YouTube.  
                          </p>
                                    </note>:
                     it is my promise,</l>
                  <l n="44">And they expect it from me.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l>Presently?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="45">Ay, with a <ref target="twink_" corresp="twink">twink</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="twink" target="twink_" resp="editors.xml#LD" type="gloss">"A winking
                        of the eye" or the time taken to perform this action (OED n.1). The modern
                        equivalent of the phrase 'with/in a twink' is 'in the blink of an
                        eye'.</note>.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="46">Before you can say 'come' and 'go,'</l>
                  <l n="47">And breathe twice and cry 'so, so,'</l>
                  <l n="48">Each one, tripping on his toe,</l>
                  <l n="49">Will be here with mop and mow.</l>
                  <l n="50">Do you love me, master? no?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="51">Dearly my delicate Ariel. Do not approach</l>
                  <l n="52">Till thou dost hear me call.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l>Well, I <ref target="conceive_" corresp="conceive">conceive</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="conceive" target="conceive_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">understand</note>.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exit</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="53">Look thou be true; do not give dalliance</l>
                  <l n="54">Too much the rein: the strongest oaths are straw</l>
                  <l n="55">To the fire i' the blood: be more abstemious,</l>
                  <l n="56">Or else, good night your vow!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l>I warrant you sir;</l>
                  <l n="57">The white cold virgin snow upon my heart</l>
                  <l n="58">Abates <ref target="liver_" corresp="liver">the ardour of my
                        liver</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="liver" target="liver_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">According to the OED (II.4.a), the liver was
                        understood in the early modern period to be the location of the passions,
                        especially love, bitterness, and anger.</note>.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l>Well.</l>
                  <l n="59">Now come, my Ariel! bring a <ref target="corollary_" corresp="corollary"/>
                     <note xml:id="corollary" target="corollary" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">An obsolete term for something additional (OED 4). Prospero wants Ariel to
                        summon an extra sprit just so they have enough.</note>,</l>
                  <l n="60">Rather than want a spirit: appear and pertly!</l>
                  <l n="61">No tongue! all eyes! be silent.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Soft music</stage>
               <stage>Enter <ref target="Iris_" corresp="Iris">Iris</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Iris" target="Iris_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Ariel
                     conjures up spirits disguised as goddesses to entertain and celebrate the
                     betrothal of the young couple. The first to appear is the spirit imitating
                     Iris, the goddess of the rainbow and the messenger to the gods. She plays the
                     'presenter' of the masque. This annotation is referenced from the <ref target="http://hudsonshakespeare.org/Shakespeare%20Library/Character%20Directory/CD_tempest.htm">"Hudson Shakespeare Company"</ref>.</note>
                            </stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Iris</speaker>
                  <l n="62">Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich <ref target="leas_" corresp="leas">leas</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="leas" target="leas_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">pastures or meadows</note>
                                </l>
                  <l n="63">Of wheat, rye, barley, <ref target="vetches_" corresp="vetches">vetches</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="vetches" target="vetches_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Various kinds of leguminous plants of the genus Vicia,
                        used mainly as fodder (OED)</note>, oats and pease;</l>
                  <l n="64">Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,</l>
                  <l n="65">And flat <ref target="meads_" corresp="meads">meads thatch'd with
                        stover</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="meads" target="meads_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A meadow covered with hay or straw for fodder.</note>,
                     them to keep;</l>
                  <l n="66">Thy banks with <ref target="pioned_" corresp="pioned">pioned</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="pioned" target="pioned_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Banks
                        that are formed through the excavation or trenching of the ground caused by
                        the currents of springs. (The Arden Shakespeare edition of <hi rend="italic">The Tempest"</hi>)</note> and <ref target="twilled_" corresp="twilled">twilled brims</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="twilled" target="twilled_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">The weaving of ridges in 'brims' or bodies of water
                        (OED).</note>,</l>
                  <l n="67">Which <ref target="spongy_" corresp="spongy">spongy</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="spongy" target="spongy_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">The
                        rainy season of April</note>April at thy hest betrims,</l>
                  <l n="68">To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy <ref target="broom_" corresp="broom">broom -groves</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="broom" target="broom_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A groove covered with beautiful yellow
                        papilionaceous flowers (OED).</note>,</l>
                  <l n="69">Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves,</l>
                  <l n="70">Being <ref target="lass-lorn_" corresp="lass-lorn">lass-lorn</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="lass-lorn" target="lass-lorn" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">As
                        the word "love-lorn" means having lost a lover, "lass-lorn" means having
                        lost a "lass"--a girl or woman.</note>: thy pole-clipt vineyard;</l>
                  <l n="71">And thy <ref target="sea_" corresp="sea">sea-marge</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="sea" target="sea_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Margin of the
                        sea or the sea-coast.</note>, sterile and rocky-hard,</l>
                  <l n="72">Where thou thyself dost air;--the queen o' the sky,</l>
                  <l n="73">Whose <ref target="arch_" corresp="arch">watery arch</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="arch" target="arch_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A rainbow,
                        which is also the sign of Iris.</note> and messenger am I,</l>
                  <l n="74">Bids thee leave these, and with her sovereign grace,</l>
                  <l n="75">Here on this grass-plot, in this very place,</l>
                  <l n="76">To come and sport: her peacocks fly amain:</l>
                  <l n="77">Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Enter <ref target="Ceres_" corresp="Ceres">Ceres</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Ceres" target="Ceres_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">The second
                     spirit presented is Ceres, the fertility goddess of the harvest, motherhood and
                     earth. She only participates in the masque after making sure that Venus and
                     Cupid, the goddess and god of love responsible for the kidnapping of her
                     daughter, do not make an appearance. This further establishes Prospero's demand
                     that Miranda remain chaste until their union. This annotation is referenced
                     from the <ref target="http://hudsonshakespeare.org/Shakespeare%20Library/Character%20Directory/CD_tempest.htm">"Hudson Shakespeare Company"</ref>.</note>
                            </stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ceres</speaker>
                  <l n="78">Hail, many-colour'd messenger, that ne'er</l>
                  <l n="79">Dost disobey the <ref target="wife_" corresp="wife">wife of
                        Jupiter</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="wife" target="wife_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Juno, the Greek goddess of marriage and the wife of
                        Jupiter, the king of the gods.</note>;</l>
                  <l n="80">Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowers</l>
                  <l n="81">Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers,</l>
                  <l n="82">And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown</l>
                  <l n="83">My <ref target="bosky_" corresp="bosky">bosky</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="bosky" target="bosky_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">As cited from the OED,
                        bosky is defined as "Consisting of or covered with bushes or underwood; full
                        of thickets, bushy".</note> acres and my unshrubb'd down,</l>
                  <l n="84">Rich scarf to my proud earth; why hath thy queen</l>
                  <l n="85">Summon'd me hither, to this short-grass'd green?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Iris</speaker>
                  <l n="86">A contract of true love to celebrate;</l>
                  <l n="87">And some donation freely to estate</l>
                  <l n="88">On the blest lovers.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ceres</speaker>
                  <l n="89">Tell me, <ref target="bow_" corresp="bow">heavenly bow</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="bow" target="bow_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">Iris is
                        frequently depicted with a rainbow, or bow.</note>,</l>
                  <l n="90">If <ref target="venus_" corresp="venus">Venus</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="venus" target="venus_" resp="editors.xml#LD" type="editorial"> The Roman goddess of
                        love, beauty, desire and fertility. She is also known as Aphrodite in the
                        Greek mythology.</note> or her <ref target="son_" corresp="son">son</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="son" target="son_" resp="editors.xml#LD" type="editorial">Ceres here is referring to Cupid, the Roman god of love,
                        born to Venus and Mercury, the god of translators and interpreters.</note>,
                     as thou dost know,</l>
                  <l n="91">Do now attend the queen? Since they did plot</l>
                  <l n="92">The means that <ref target="Dis_" corresp="Dis">dusky Dis</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Dis" target="Dis_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">Dis is another
                        name for Pluto, god of the underworld. In mythology, he kidnaps Ceres'
                        daughter Proserpina with help from Venus and Cupid, her 'blind' and
                        'waspish-headed' son of the next lines, who is typically depicted as blindly
                        shooting his arrows of love. Ceres bargains with Pluto, and according to
                        their deal, Proserpina spends half the year with her mother and half, with
                        Pluto. During the spring and summer months, when mother and daughter are
                        toogether, all is light and warmth; when Prosperpina is in the underworld,
                        Ceres's sadness brings us the fall and winter months.</note> my daughter
                     got,</l>
                  <l n="93">Her and her blind boy's scandal'd company</l>
                  <l n="94">I have forsworn.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Iris</speaker>
                  <l n="95">Of her society</l>
                  <l n="96">Be not afraid: I met her deity</l>
                  <l n="97">Cutting the clouds towards <ref target="Paphos_" corresp="Paphos">Paphos</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="Paphos" target="Paphos_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">The sacred home of the goddess Venus on the Island of
                        Cyprus.</note> and her son</l>
                  <l n="98">Dove-drawn with her. Here thought they to have done</l>
                  <l n="99">Some wanton charm upon this man and maid,</l>
                  <l n="100">Whose vows are, that no bed-right shall be paid</l>
                  <l n="101">Till <ref target="torch_" corresp="torch">Hymen's torch</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="torch" target="torch_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Prospero
                        is forbidding Ferdinand and Miranda from having sex before they are married,
                        or before the torch of Hymen, the Greek God of marriage, is lit.</note> be
                     lighted: but vain;</l>
                  <l n="102">Mars's hot minion is returned again;</l>
                  <l n="103">Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows,</l>
                  <l n="104">Swears he will shoot no more but play with sparrows</l>
                  <l n="105">And be a boy right out.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ceres</speaker>
                  <l n="106">High'st queen of state,</l>
                  <l n="107">Great Juno, comes; I know her by her gait.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Enter <ref target="Juno_" corresp="Juno">Juno</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Juno" target="Juno_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">The third
                     spirit enters the masque fashioned as Juno, the roman queen of the
                  gods.</note>
                            </stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Juno</speaker>
                  <l n="108">How does my bounteous sister? Go with me</l>
                  <l n="109">To bless this twain, that they may Prosperous be</l>
                  <l n="110">And honour'd in their issue.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>They sing:</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Juno</speaker>
                  <l n="111">Honour, riches, marriage-blessing,</l>
                  <l n="112">Long continuance, and increasing,</l>
                  <l n="113">Hourly joys be still upon you!</l>
                  <pb n="15" facs="pageImages/015.png"/>
                  <l n="114">Juno sings her blessings upon you.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ceres</speaker>
                  <l n="115">Earth's increase, <ref target="foison_" corresp="foison">foison</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="foison" target="foison_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">An archaic term for abundance or bountiful supply (OED
                        1.a).</note>plenty,</l>
                  <l n="116">Barns and garners never empty,</l>
                  <l n="117">Vines and clustering bunches growing,</l>
                  <l n="118">Plants with goodly <ref target="bowing_" corresp="bowing">burthen
                        bowing</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="bowing" target="bowing_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Plants bending from the weight of their
                     growth.</note>;</l>
                  <l n="119">Spring come to you at the farthest</l>
                  <l n="120">In the very end of harvest!</l>
                  <l n="121">Scarcity and want shall shun you;</l>
                  <l n="122">Ceres' blessing so is on you.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="123">This is a most majestic vision, and</l>
                  <l n="124">Harmoniously charmingly. May I be bold</l>
                  <l n="125">To think these spirits?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">Spirits, which by mine art</l>
                  <l n="126">I have from their confines call'd to enact</l>
                  <l n="127">My present fancies.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">Let me live here ever;</l>
                  <l n="128">So rare a wonder'd father and a wife</l>
                  <l n="129">Makes this place Paradise.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Juno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">Sweet, now, silence!</l>
                  <l n="130">Juno and Ceres whisper seriously;</l>
                  <l n="131">There's something else to do: hush, and be mute,</l>
                  <l n="132">Or else our spell is marr'd.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Iris</speaker>
                  <l n="133">You <ref target="nymphs_" corresp="nymphs">nymphs</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="nymphs" target="nymphs_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">According to Britannica, nymphs are a class of low-ranking female deities
                        from Greek mythology, often associated with sources of growing life such as
                        trees and water. The Naiads presided over freshwater brooks, lakes, springs,
                        and rivers.</note>, call'd Naiads, of the windring brooks,</l>
                  <l n="134">With your sedged crowns and ever-harmless looks,</l>
                  <l n="135">Leave your crisp channels and on this green land</l>
                  <l n="136">Answer your summons; Juno does command:</l>
                  <l n="137">Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate</l>
                  <l n="138">A contract of true love; be not too late.</l>
                  <stage>Enter certain Nymphs</stage>
                  <l n="139">You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary,</l>
                  <l n="140">Come hither from the furrow and be merry:</l>
                  <l n="141">Make holiday; your rye-straw hats put on</l>
                  <l n="142">And these fresh nymphs encounter every one</l>
                  <l n="143">In country footing.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Enter certain Reapers, properly habited: they join with the Nymphs in a
                  graceful dance; towards the end whereof Prospero starts suddenly, and speaks;
                  after which, to a strange, hollow, and confused noise, they heavily vanish</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="144">
                     <stage>Aside</stage> I had forgot that foul conspiracy </l>
                  <l n="145">Of the beast Caliban and his confederates</l>
                  <l n="146">Against my life: the minute of their plot</l>
                  <l n="147">Is almost come.</l>
                  <stage>To the Spirits</stage>
                  <l rend="indent">Well done! avoid; no more!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="148">This is strange: your father's in some passion</l>
                  <l n="149">That works him strongly.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">Never till this day</l>
                  <l n="150">Saw I him touch'd with anger so distemper'd.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="151">You do look, my son, in a moved sort,</l>
                  <l n="152">As if you were dismay'd: be cheerful, sir.</l>
                  <l n="153">Our revels now are ended. These our actors,</l>
                  <l n="154">As I foretold you, were all spirits and</l>
                  <l n="155">Are melted into air, into thin air:</l>
                  <l n="156">And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,</l>
                  <l n="157">The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,</l>
                  <l n="158">The solemn temples, the great globe itself,</l>
                  <l n="159">Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve</l>
                  <l n="160">And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,</l>
                  <l n="161">Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff</l>
                  <l n="162">As dreams are made on, and our little life</l>
                  <l n="163">Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd;</l>
                  <l n="164">Bear with my weakness; my, brain is troubled:</l>
                  <l n="165">Be not disturb'd with my infirmity:</l>
                  <l n="166">If you be pleased, retire into my cell</l>
                  <l n="167">And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk,</l>
                  <l n="168">To still my beating mind.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">

                  <speaker>Ferdinand and Miranda</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">We wish your peace.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exeunt</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="169">Come with a thought I thank thee, Ariel: come.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Enter Ariel</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="170">Thy thoughts I cleave to. What's thy pleasure?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">Spirit,</l>
                  <l n="171">We must prepare to meet with Caliban.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="172">Ay, my commander: when I presented Ceres,</l>
                  <l n="173">I thought to have told thee of it, but I fear'd</l>
                  <l n="174">Lest I might anger thee.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="175">Say again, where didst thou leave these <ref target="varlets_" corresp="varlets">varlets</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="varlets" target="varlets_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">According to the OED, a varlet was a term
                        for a man or a young lad acting as a lowly servant. In this context however,
                        Prospero uses it as an "abusive form of address" (OED 2.a).</note>?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="176">I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking;</l>
                  <l n="177">So fun of valour that they smote the air</l>
                  <l n="178">For breathing in their faces; beat the ground</l>
                  <l n="179">For kissing of their feet; yet always bending</l>
                  <l n="180">Towards their project. Then I beat my <ref target="tabour_" corresp="tabour">tabour</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="tabour" target="tabour_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Tabour/Tabor is an archaic term from the
                        eleventh century for a small drum (OED).</note>;</l>
                  <l n="181">At which, like unback'd colts, they prick'd their ears,</l>
                  <l n="182">Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses</l>
                  <l n="183">As they smelt music: so I charm'd their ears</l>
                  <l n="184">That calf-like they my lowing follow'd through</l>
                  <l n="185">Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss and thorns,</l>
                  <l n="186">Which entered their frail shins: at last I left them</l>
                  <l n="187">I' the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell,</l>
                  <l n="188">There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lake</l>
                  <l n="189">O'erstunk their feet.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">This was well done, my bird.</l>
                  <l n="190">Thy shape invisible retain thou still:</l>
                  <l n="191">The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither,</l>
                  <l n="192">For stale to catch these thieves.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">I go, I go.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exit</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="193">A devil, a born devil, on whose nature</l>
                  <l n="194">Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains,</l>
                  <l n="195">Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost;</l>
                  <l n="196">And as with age his body uglier grows,</l>
                  <l n="197">So his mind cankers. I will plague them all,</l>
                  <l n="198">Even to roaring.</l>
                  <stage>Re-enter Ariel, loaden with glistering apparel, &amp;c</stage>
                  <l rend="indent">Come, hang them on this line.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Prospero and Ariel remain invisible. Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo,
                  all wet</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="199">Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not</l>
                  <l n="200">Hear a foot fall: we now are near his cell.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="201">Monster, your fairy, which you say is</l>
                  <l n="202">a harmless fairy, has done little better than</l>
                  <l n="203">played the Jack with us.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="204">Monster, I do smell all horse-piss; at</l>
                  <l n="205">which my nose is in great indignation.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="206">So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I should take</l>
                  <l n="207">a displeasure against you, look you,--</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="208">Thou wert but a lost monster.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="209">Good my lord, give me thy favour still.</l>
                  <l n="210">Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee to</l>
                  <l n="210">Shall hoodwink this mischance: therefore speak softly.</l>
                  <l n="210">All's hush'd as midnight yet.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="211">Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool,--</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="212">There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that,</l>
                  <l n="213">monster, but an infinite loss.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="214">That's more to me than my wetting: yet this is your</l>
                  <l n="215">harmless fairy, monster.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="216">I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er ears</l>
                  <l n="217">for my labour.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="218">Prithee, my king, be quiet. Seest thou here,</l>
                  <l n="219">This is the mouth o' the cell: no noise, and enter.</l>
                  <l n="220">Do that good mischief which may make this island</l>
                  <l n="221">Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban,</l>
                  <l n="222">For aye thy foot-licker.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="223">Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody thoughts.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="224">O king Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano! look</l>
                  <l n="225">what a wardrobe here is for thee!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="226">Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="227">O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a <ref target="frippery_" corresp="frippery">frippery</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="frippery" target="frippery_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A store where previously-owned but
                        quality cloghing is sold (OED). Trinculo chides Caliban for not knowing the
                        value of the clothing.</note>.</l>
                  <l n="228">O king Stephano!</l>
               </sp>
               <pb n="16" facs="pageImages/016.png"/>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="229">Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I'll have</l>
                  <l n="230">that gown.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="231">Thy grace shall have it.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="232">The dropsy drown this fool I what do you mean</l>
                  <l n="233">To dote thus on such luggage? Let's alone</l>
                  <l n="234">And do the murder first: if he awake,</l>
                  <l n="235">From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches,</l>
                  <l n="236">Make us strange stuff.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="237">Be you quiet, monster. <ref target="line_" corresp="line">Mistress
                        line</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="line" target="line_" resp="editors.xml#TH" type="gloss">Stephano and Trinculo engage in a riff on the multiple meanings
                        of the word "line." Here, Stephano is comically addressing the clothesline
                        (or line) in a formal manner.</note>,</l>
                  <l n="238">is not this my jerkin? Now is the <ref target="jerkin_" corresp="jerkin">jerkin</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="jerkin" target="jerkin_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">A men's jacket made of leather either
                        with sleaves or without, and having a short skirt. The historical equivalent
                        of the waistcoat. (OED)</note> under</l>
                  <l n="239">
                                    <ref target="under_the_line_" corresp="under_the_line">the
                        line</ref>
                                    <note target="under_the_line_" xml:id="under_the_line" resp="editors.xml#TH" type="gloss">"Under the line" during this period was a
                        reference to the equator (OED n, 10.b).</note>: now, jerkin, you are like to
                     lose your</l>
                  <l n="240">hair and prove a bald jerkin.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="241">Do, do: we steal <ref target="by_line_and_level_" corresp="by_line_and_level">by line and level</ref>
                                    <note target="by_line_and_level_" xml:id="by_line_and_level" resp="editors.xml#TH" type="gloss">To do something by line and level means to do it methodically
                        and with care (OED n, 4.b).</note>, an't like your grace.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="242">I thank thee for that jest; here's a garment for't:</l>
                  <l n="243">wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king of this</l>
                  <l n="244">country. 'Steal by line and level' is an excellent</l>
                  <l n="245">
                                    <ref target="pass_" corresp="pass">pass of pate</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="pass" target="pass_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD"> The OED
                        defines 'pass of pate' as a "witty or cutting remark". In the literal sense,
                        'pate' was an archaic noun for the head or skull. Stephano creates his own
                        pun Trinculo's clever wordplay.</note>; there's another garment for't.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="246">Monster, come, put some <ref target="lime_" corresp="lime">lime upon
                        your fingers</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="lime" target="lime_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">According to the OED, lime or birdlime is a sticky
                        material from holly bark, mistletoe berries and other plants, used to
                        capture birds by applying it to branches where they might alight.</note>,
                     and</l>
                  <l n="247">away with the rest.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="248">I will have none on't: we shall lose our time,</l>
                  <l n="249">And all be turn'd to barnacles, or to apes</l>
                  <l n="250">With foreheads villanous low.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="251">Monster, lay-to your fingers: help to bear this</l>
                  <l n="252">away where my hogshead of wine is, or I'll turn you</l>
                  <l n="252">out of my kingdom: go to, carry this.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="253">And this.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="254">Ay, and this.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>A noise of hunters heard. <ref target="spirits_" corresp="spirits">Enter
                     divers Spirits</ref>
                  <note xml:id="spirits" target="spirits_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">These
                     noises mimicking the sounds of animals are produced by the actors
                     off-stage.</note>, in shape of dogs and hounds, and hunt them about, Prospero
                  and Ariel setting them on</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="255">Hey, Mountain, hey!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="256">Silver I there it goes, Silver!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="257">Fury, Fury! there, Tyrant, there! hark! hark!</l>
                  <stage>Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, are driven out</stage>
                  <l n="258">Go charge my goblins that they grind their joints</l>
                  <l n="259">With dry convulsions, shorten up their sinews</l>
                  <l n="260">With aged cramps, and more pinch-spotted make them</l>
                  <l n="261">Than pard or cat o' mountain.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l rend="indent">Hark, they roar!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="262">Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour</l>
                  <l n="263">Lie at my mercy all mine enemies:</l>
                  <l n="264">Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou</l>
                  <l n="265">Shalt have the air at freedom: for a little</l>
                  <l n="266">Follow, and do me service.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exeunt</stage>
            </div>
         </div>
         <div type="act">
            <head type="sub">Act V</head>
            <div type="scene">
               <head type="sub">Scene I. Before Prospero's cell.</head>
               <stage>Enter Prospero in his magic robes, and Ariel</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="1">Now does my project gather to a head:</l>
                  <l n="2">My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and time</l>
                  <l n="3">Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="4">On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord,</l>
                  <l n="5">You said our work should cease.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="5" rend="indent">I did say so,</l>
                  <l n="6">When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit,</l>
                  <l n="7">How fares the king and's followers?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="7" rend="indent">Confined together</l>
                  <l n="8">In the same fashion as you gave in charge,</l>
                  <l n="9">Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir,</l>
                  <l n="10">In the <ref target="grove_" corresp="grove">line-grove</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="grove" target="grove_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD"> A small
                        group of trees that provide shade (OED). Here, the grove is acting as a
                        barrier for Prospero's cell. </note> which weather-fends your cell;</l>
                  <l n="11">They cannot budge till your release. The king,</l>
                  <l n="12">His brother and yours, abide all three distracted</l>
                  <l n="13">And the remainder mourning over them,</l>
                  <l n="14">Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly</l>
                  <l n="15">Him that you term'd, sir, 'The good old lord Gonzalo;'</l>
                  <l n="16">His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops</l>
                  <l n="17">From <ref target="eaves_" corresp="eaves">eaves</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="eaves" target="eaves_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Eaves is
                        an Old English term, signifying the edge of the roof over a building which
                        overhangs off the sides, made typically of straws or reeds (OED) </note> of
                     reeds. Your charm so strongly works 'em</l>
                  <l n="18">That if you now beheld them, your affections</l>
                  <l n="19">Would become tender.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="19" rend="indent">Dost thou think so, spirit?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="20">Mine would, sir, were I human.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="20" rend="indent">And mine shall.</l>
                  <l n="21">Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling</l>
                  <l n="22">Of their afflictions, and shall not myself,</l>
                  <l n="23">One of their kind, that relish all as sharply,</l>
                  <l n="24">Passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou art?</l>
                  <l n="25">Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick,</l>
                  <l n="26">Yet with my nobler reason 'gaitist my fury</l>
                  <l n="27">Do I take part: the rarer action is</l>
                  <l n="28">In virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent,</l>
                  <l n="29">The sole drift of my purpose doth extend</l>
                  <l n="30">Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel:</l>
                  <l n="31">My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore,</l>
                  <l n="32">And they shall be themselves.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="32" rend="indent">I'll fetch them, sir.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exit</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="33">Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves,</l>
                  <l n="34">And ye that on the sands with printless foot</l>
                  <l n="35">Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him</l>
                  <l n="36">When he comes back; you demi-puppets that</l>
                  <l n="37">By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,</l>
                  <l n="38">Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime</l>
                  <l n="39">Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice</l>
                  <l n="40">To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid,</l>
                  <l n="41">Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm'd</l>
                  <l n="42">The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,</l>
                  <l n="43">And 'twixt the green sea and the azured vault</l>
                  <l n="44">Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder</l>
                  <l n="45">Have I given fire and rifted Jove's stout oak</l>
                  <l n="46">With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory</l>
                  <l n="47">Have I made shake and by the spurs pluck'd up</l>
                  <l n="48">The pine and cedar: graves at my command</l>
                  <l n="49">Have waked their sleepers, <ref target="oped_" corresp="oped">oped</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="oped" target="oped_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">According to the OED, oped is a transitive verb which
                        means, " To open. Frequently of an eye, door, or window."</note>, and let
                     'em forth</l>
                  <l n="50">By my so potent art. But this rough magic</l>
                  <l n="51">I here abjure, and, when I have required</l>
                  <l n="52">Some heavenly music, which even now I do,</l>
                  <l n="53">To work mine end upon their senses that</l>
                  <l n="54">This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff,</l>
                  <l n="55">Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,</l>
                  <l n="56">And deeper than did ever plummet sound</l>
                  <l n="57">I'll drown my book.</l>
                  <stage>Solemn music</stage>
                  <stage>Re-enter Ariel before: then Alonso, with a frantic gesture, attended by
                     Gonzalo; Sebastian and Antonio in like manner, attended by Adrian and Francisco
                     they all enter the circle which Prospero had made, and there stand charmed;
                     which Prospero observing, speaks:</stage>
                  <l n="58">A solemn air and the best comforter</l>
                  <l n="59">To an unsettled fancy cure thy brains,</l>
                  <l n="60">Now useless, boil'd within thy skull! <ref target="stand_" corresp="stand">There stand</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="stand" target="stand_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Around this time, the actors who are yet
                        transfixed by Prospero's sorcery enter the stage led by Ariel. Prospero then
                        addresses each of the afflicted before releasing them from their
                        state.</note>,</l>
                  <l n="61">For you are spell-stopp'd.</l>
                  <l n="62">Holy Gonzalo, honourable man,</l>
                  <l n="63">Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine,</l>
                  <l n="64">Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace,</l>
                  <l n="65">And as the morning steals upon the night,</l>
                  <l n="66">Melting the darkness, so their rising senses</l>
                  <l n="67">Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle</l>
                  <l n="68">Their clearer reason. O good Gonzalo,</l>
                  <l n="69">My true preserver, and a loyal sir</l>
                  <l n="70">To him you follow'st! I will pay thy graces</l>
                  <l n="71">Home both in word and deed. Most cruelly</l>
                  <pb n="17" facs="pageImages/017.png"/>
                  <l n="72">Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter:</l>
                  <l n="73">Thy brother was a furtherer in the act.</l>
                  <l n="74">Thou art pinch'd fort now, Sebastian. Flesh and blood,</l>
                  <l n="75">You, brother mine, that entertain'd ambition,</l>
                  <l n="76">Expell'd remorse and nature; who, with Sebastian,</l>
                  <l n="77">Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong,</l>
                  <l n="78">Would here have kill'd your king; I do forgive thee,</l>
                  <l n="79">Unnatural though thou art. Their understanding</l>
                  <l n="80">Begins to swell, and the approaching tide</l>
                  <l n="81">Will shortly fill the reasonable shore</l>
                  <l n="82">That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them</l>
                  <l n="83">That yet looks on me, or would know me Ariel,</l>
                  <l n="84">Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell:</l>
                  <l n="85">
                                    <ref target="discase_" corresp="discase">I will discase me</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="discase" target="discase_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">Prospero, with Ariel's help, removes his magical robe and staff, and
                        dresses himself in the clothes he had worn while he was still Duke of <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName>
                        perhaps to keep them in the dark about his association with the tempest.
                        "Discase" literally means to take something out of its case, but
                        colloquially it means to undress.</note>, and myself present</l>
                  <l n="86">As I was sometime <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName>: quickly, spirit;</l>
                  <l n="87">Thou shalt ere long be free.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <stage>Ariel sings and helps to attire him</stage>
                  <l n="88" rend="indent3">Where the bee sucks. there suck I:</l>
                  <l n="89" rend="indent3">In a cowslip's bell I lie;</l>
                  <l n="90" rend="indent3">There I couch when owls do cry.</l>
                  <l n="91" rend="indent3">On the bat's back I do fly</l>
                  <l n="92" rend="indent3">After summer merrily.</l>
                  <l n="93" rend="indent2">Merrily, merrily shall I live now</l>
                  <l n="94" rend="indent2">Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="95">Why, that's my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee:</l>
                  <l n="96">But yet thou shalt have freedom: so, so, so.</l>
                  <l n="97">To the king's ship, invisible as thou art:</l>
                  <l n="98">There shalt thou find the mariners asleep</l>
                  <l n="99">Under the hatches; the master and the boatswain</l>
                  <l n="100">Being awake, enforce them to this place,</l>
                  <l n="101">And presently, I prithee.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <l n="102">I drink the air before me, and return</l>
                  <l n="103">Or ere your pulse twice beat.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exit</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="104">All torment, trouble, wonder and amazement</l>
                  <l n="105">Inhabits here: some heavenly power guide us</l>
                  <l n="106">Out of this fearful country!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="106" rend="indent">Behold, sir king,</l>
                  <l n="107">The wronged Duke of <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName>, Prospero:</l>
                  <l n="108">For more assurance that a living prince</l>
                  <l n="109">Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body;</l>
                  <l n="110">And to thee and thy company I bid</l>
                  <l n="111">A hearty welcome.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="111" rend="indent">Whether thou best he or no,</l>
                  <l n="112">Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me,</l>
                  <l n="113">As late I have been, I not know: thy pulse</l>
                  <l n="114">Beats as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee,</l>
                  <l n="115">The affliction of my mind amends, with which,</l>
                  <l n="116">I fear, a madness held me: this must crave,</l>
                  <l n="117">An if this be at all, a most strange story.</l>
                  <l n="118">Thy dukedom I resign and do entreat</l>
                  <l n="119">Thou pardon me my wrongs. But how should Prospero</l>
                  <l n="120">Be living and be here?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="120" rend="indent">First, noble friend,</l>
                  <l n="121">Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot</l>
                  <l n="122">Be measured or confined.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="122" rend="indent">Whether this be</l>
                  <l n="123">Or be not, I'll not swear.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="123" rend="indent">You do yet taste</l>
                  <l n="124">Some subtilties o' the isle, that will not let you</l>
                  <l n="125">Believe things certain. Welcome, my friends all!</l>
                  <stage>Aside to Sebastian and Antonio</stage>
                  <l n="126">But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded,</l>
                  <l n="127">I here could pluck his highness' frown upon you</l>
                  <l n="128">And justify you traitors: at this time</l>
                  <l n="129">I will tell no tales.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="129" rend="indent">
                     <stage>Aside</stage> The devil speaks in him. </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="129" rend="indent2">No.</l>
                  <l n="130">For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother</l>
                  <l n="131">Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive</l>
                  <l n="132">Thy rankest fault; all of them; and require</l>
                  <l n="133">My dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know,</l>
                  <l n="134">Thou must restore.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="134" rend="indent">If thou be'st Prospero,</l>
                  <l n="135">Give us particulars of thy preservation;</l>
                  <l n="136">How thou hast met us here, who three hours since</l>
                  <l n="137">Were wreck'd upon this shore; where I have lost--</l>
                  <l n="138">How sharp the point of this remembrance is!--</l>
                  <l n="139">My dear son Ferdinand.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="139" rend="indent">I am woe for't, sir.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="140">Irreparable is the loss, and patience</l>
                  <l n="141">Says it is past her cure.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="141" rend="indent">I rather think</l>
                  <l n="142">You have not sought her help, of whose soft grace</l>
                  <l n="143">For the like loss I have her sovereign aid</l>
                  <l n="144">And rest myself content.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="144" rend="indent">You the like loss!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="145">As great to me as late; and, supportable</l>
                  <l n="146">To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker</l>
                  <l n="147">Than you may call to comfort you, for I</l>
                  <l n="148">Have lost my daughter.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="148" rend="indent">A daughter?</l>
                  <l n="149">O heavens, that they were living both in <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName>,</l>
                  <l n="150">The king and queen there! that they were, I wish</l>
                  <l n="151">Myself were mudded in that oozy bed</l>
                  <l n="152">Where my son lies. When did you lose your daughter?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="153">In this last tempest. I perceive these lords</l>
                  <l n="154">At this encounter do so much admire</l>
                  <l n="155">That they devour their reason and scarce think</l>
                  <l n="156">Their eyes do offices of truth, their words</l>
                  <l n="157">Are natural breath: but, howsoe'er you have</l>
                  <l n="158">Been justled from your senses, know for certain</l>
                  <l n="159">That I am Prospero and that very duke</l>
                  <l n="160">Which was thrust forth of <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName>, who most strangely</l>
                  <l n="161">Upon this shore, where you were wreck'd, was landed,</l>
                  <l n="162">To be the lord on't. No more yet of this;</l>
                  <l n="163">For 'tis a <ref target="chronicle_" corresp="chronicle">chronicle of
                        day by day</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="chronicle" target="chronicle_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">It is a very long narrative to be recounted over the
                        course of many days.</note>,</l>
                  <l n="164">Not a relation for a breakfast nor</l>
                  <l n="165">Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir;</l>
                  <l n="166">This cell's my court: here have I few attendants</l>
                  <l n="167">And subjects none abroad: pray you, look in.</l>
                  <l n="168">My dukedom since you have given me again,</l>
                  <l n="169">I will requite you with as good a thing;</l>
                  <l n="170">At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye</l>
                  <l n="171">As much as me my dukedom.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Here Prospero <ref target="discovers_" corresp="discovers">discovers</ref>
                  <note xml:id="discovers" target="discovers_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#LD"> A discovery space on the stage is an area enclosed by
                     curtains which is used to reveal objects or characters. Sometimes the color of
                     the curtains will also indicate the theme of the tale, as in the case of the
                     tragedy Doctor Faustus where black curtains are sometimes used to signal the
                     dark events of the play (<ref target="https://reconstructingtherose.tome.press/chapter/5-9-3-central-opening-or-discovery-space-with-curtains/">"Reconstructing the Rose"</ref>). </note> Ferdinand and Miranda playing at
                  chess</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l n="172">Sweet lord, you play me false.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="172" rend="indent">No, my dear'st love,</l>
                  <l n="173">I would not for the world.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l n="174">Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle,</l>
                  <l n="175">And I would call it, fair play.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="175" rend="indent">If this prove</l>
                  <l n="176">A vision of the Island, one dear son</l>
                  <l n="177">Shall I twice lose.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="177" rend="indent">A most high miracle!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <stage>[Sees his father and the others]</stage>
                  <l n="178">Though the seas threaten, they are merciful;</l>
                  <l n="179">I have cursed them without cause.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Kneels</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="179" rend="indent">Now all the blessings</l>
                  <l n="180">Of a glad father compass thee about!</l>
                  <l n="181">Arise, and say how thou camest here.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Miranda</speaker>
                  <l n="181" rend="indent">O, wonder!</l>
                  <l n="182">How many goodly creatures are there here!</l>
                  <l n="183">How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,</l>
                  <pb n="18" facs="pageImages/018.png"/>
                  <l n="184">That has such people in't!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="184" rend="indent">'Tis new to thee.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="185">What is this maid with whom thou wast at play?</l>
                  <l n="186">Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours:</l>
                  <l n="187">Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us,</l>
                  <l n="188">And brought us thus together?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ferdinand</speaker>
                  <l n="188" rend="indent">Sir, she is mortal;</l>
                  <l n="189">But by immortal Providence she's mine:</l>
                  <l n="190">I chose her when I could not ask my father</l>
                  <l n="191">For his advice, nor thought I had one. She</l>
                  <l n="192">Is daughter to this famous Duke of <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName>,</l>
                  <l n="193">Of whom so often I have heard renown,</l>
                  <l n="194">But never saw before; of whom I have</l>
                  <l n="195">Received a second life; and second father</l>
                  <l n="196">This lady makes him to me.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="196" rend="indent">I am hers:</l>
                  <l n="197">But, O, how oddly will it sound that I</l>
                  <l n="198">Must ask my child forgiveness!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="198" rend="indent">There, sir, stop:</l>
                  <l n="199">Let us not burthen our remembrance with</l>
                  <l n="200">A heaviness that's gone.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="200" rend="indent">I have inly wept,</l>
                  <l n="201">Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you god,</l>
                  <l n="202">And on this couple drop a blessed crown!</l>
                  <l n="203">For it is you that have chalk'd forth the way</l>
                  <l n="204">Which brought us hither.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="204" rend="indent">I say, Amen, Gonzalo!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="205">Was <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName> thrust from <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName>, that his issue</l>
                  <l n="206">Should become kings of <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName>? O, rejoice</l>
                  <l n="207">Beyond a common joy, and set it down</l>
                  <l n="208">With gold on lasting pillars: In one voyage</l>
                  <l n="209">Did Claribel her husband find at <placeName type="tgn" key="7001016">Tunis</placeName>,</l>
                  <l n="210">And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife</l>
                  <l n="211">Where he himself was lost, Prospero his dukedom</l>
                  <l n="212">In a poor isle and all of us ourselves</l>
                  <l n="213">When no man was his own.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="213" rend="indent">
                     <stage>To Ferdinand and Miranda</stage> Give me your hands: </l>
                  <l n="214">Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart</l>
                  <l n="215">That doth not wish you joy!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Gonzalo</speaker>
                  <l n="215" rend="indent">Be it so! Amen!</l>
                  <stage>Re-enter Ariel, with the Master and Boatswain amazedly following</stage>
                  <l n="216">O, look, sir, look, sir! here is more of us:</l>
                  <l n="217">I prophesied, if a gallows were on land,</l>
                  <l n="218">This fellow could not drown. <stage>[to Boatswain]</stage> Now,
                     blasphemy,</l>
                  <l n="219">That swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on shore?</l>
                  <l n="220">Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Boatswain</speaker>
                  <l n="221">The best news is, that we have safely found</l>
                  <l n="222">Our king and company; the next, our ship--</l>
                  <l n="223">Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split--</l>
                  <l n="224">Is tight and yare and bravely rigg'd as when</l>
                  <l n="225">We first put out to sea.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>

                  <stage>Aside to Prospero</stage>
                  <l n="225" rend="indent">Sir, all this service </l>
                  <l n="226">Have I done since I went.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <stage>Aside to Ariel</stage>
                  <l n="226" rend="indent">My tricksy spirit! </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="227">These are not natural events; they strengthen</l>
                  <l n="228">From strange to stranger. Say, how came you hither?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Boatswain</speaker>
                  <l n="229">If I did think, sir, I were well awake,</l>
                  <l n="230">I'ld strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep,</l>
                  <l n="231">And--how we know not--all clapp'd under hatches;</l>
                  <l n="232">Where but even now with strange and several noises</l>
                  <l n="233">Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains,</l>
                  <l n="234">And more diversity of sounds, all horrible,</l>
                  <l n="235">We were awaked; straightway, at liberty;</l>
                  <l n="236">Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld</l>
                  <l n="237">Our royal, good and gallant ship, our master</l>
                  <l n="238">Capering to eye her: on a trice, so please you,</l>
                  <l n="239">Even in a dream, were we divided from them</l>
                  <l n="240">And were brought moping hither.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Ariel</speaker>
                  <stage>Aside to Prospero</stage>
                  <l n="240" rend="indent">Was't well done? </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="241">
                     <stage>Aside to Ariel</stage> Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt be free. </l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="242">This is as strange a maze as e'er men trod</l>
                  <l n="243">And there is in this business more than nature</l>
                  <l n="244">Was ever conduct of: some oracle</l>
                  <l n="245">Must rectify our knowledge.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="245" rend="indent">Sir, my liege,</l>
                  <l n="246">Do not infest your mind with beating on</l>
                  <l n="247">The strangeness of this business; at pick'd leisure</l>
                  <l n="248">Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you,</l>
                  <l n="249">Which to you shall seem probable, of every</l>
                  <l n="250">These happen'd accidents; till when, be cheerful</l>
                  <l n="251">And think of each thing well.<stage>Aside to Ariel</stage>
                                </l>

                  <l n="251" rend="indent">Come hither, spirit:</l>
                  <l n="252">Set Caliban and his companions free;</l>
                  <l n="253">Untie the spell.<stage>Exit Ariel</stage>
                                </l>

                  <l n="253" rend="indent">How fares my gracious sir?</l>
                  <l n="254">There are yet missing of your company</l>
                  <l n="255">Some few odd lads that you remember not.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Re-enter Ariel, driving in Caliban, Stephano and Trinculo, in their stolen
                  apparel</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="256">Every man shift for all the rest, andlet no man</l>
                  <l n="257">take care for himself; for all is but fortune. <ref target="coragio_" corresp="coragio">Coragio</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="coragio" target="coragio_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">An exhortatory Italian exclamation for
                        "Courage!" (OED)</note>,</l>
                  <l n="258">bully-monster, coragio!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="259">If these be true spies which I wear in my head,</l>
                  <l n="260">here's a goodly sight.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="261">O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed!</l>
                  <l n="262">How fine my master is! I am afraid</l>
                  <l n="263">He will chastise me.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="263" rend="indent">Ha, ha!</l>
                  <l n="264">What things are these, my lord Antonio?</l>
                  <l n="265">Will money buy 'em?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Antonio</speaker>
                  <l n="265" rend="indent">Very like; one of them</l>
                  <l n="266">Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="267">Mark but the badges of these men, my lords,</l>
                  <l n="268">Then say if they be true. This mis-shapen knave,</l>
                  <l n="269">His mother was a witch, and one so strong</l>
                  <l n="270">That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs,</l>
                  <l n="271">And deal in her command without her power.</l>
                  <l n="272">These three have robb'd me; and this demi-devil--</l>
                  <l n="273">For he's a bastard one--had plotted with them</l>
                  <l n="274">To take my life. Two of these fellows you</l>
                  <l n="275">Must know and own; this thing of darkness I</l>
                  <l n="276">Acknowledge mine.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="276" rend="indent">I shall be pinch'd to death.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="277">Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="278">He is drunk now: where had he wine?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="279">And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should they</l>
                  <l n="280">Find this grand liquor that hath gilded 'em?</l>
                  <l n="281">How camest thou in this pickle?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Trinculo</speaker>
                  <l n="282">I have been in such a pickle since I saw you</l>
                  <l n="283">last that, I fear me, will never out of my bones: I shall </l>
                  <l n="284">not fear fly-blowing.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="285">Why, how now, Stephano!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="286">O, touch me not; I am not Stephano, but a</l>
                  <l n="287">cramp.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="288">You'ld be king o' the isle, <ref target="sirrah_" corresp="sirrah">sirrah</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="sirrah" target="sirrah_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">According to the OED, it's an archaic "term of address
                        used to men or boys, expressing contempt, reprimand, or assumption of
                        authority on the part of the speaker".</note>?</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="prose">
                  <speaker>Stephano</speaker>
                  <l n="289">I should have been a sore one then.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="290">This is a strange thing as e'er I look'd on.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Pointing to Caliban</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="291">He is as disproportion'd in his manners</l>
                  <l n="292">As in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell;</l>
                  <l n="293">Take with you your companions; as you look</l>
                  <l n="294">To have my pardon, trim it handsomely.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Caliban</speaker>
                  <l n="295">Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise hereafter</l>
                  <pb n="19" facs="pageImages/019.png"/>
                  <l n="296">And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass</l>
                  <l n="297">Was I, to take this drunkard for a god</l>
                  <l n="298">And worship this dull fool!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="298" rend="indent">Go to; away!</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="299">Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Sebastian</speaker>
                  <l n="300">Or stole it, rather.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exeunt Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo</stage>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="301">Sir, I invite your highness and your train</l>
                  <l n="302">To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest</l>
                  <l n="303">For this one night; which, part of it, I'll waste</l>
                  <l n="304">With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it</l>
                  <l n="305">Go quick away; the story of my life</l>
                  <l n="306">And the particular accidents gone by</l>
                  <l n="307">Since I came to this isle: and in the morn</l>
                  <l n="308">I'll bring you to your ship and so to <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName>,</l>
                  <l n="309">Where I have hope to see the nuptial</l>
                  <l n="310">Of these our dear-beloved solemnized;</l>
                  <l n="311">And thence retire me to my <placeName type="tgn" key="7005903">Milan</placeName>, where</l>
                  <l n="312">Every third thought shall be my grave.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Alonso</speaker>
                  <l n="312" rend="indent">I long</l>
                  <l n="313">To hear the story of your life, which must</l>
                  <l n="314">Take the ear strangely.</l>
               </sp>
               <sp style="verse">
                  <speaker>Prospero</speaker>
                  <l n="314" rend="indent">I'll deliver all;</l>
                  <l n="315">And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales</l>
                  <l n="316">And sail so expeditious that shall catch</l>
                  <l n="317">Your royal fleet far off.</l>
                  <stage>Aside to Ariel</stage>
                  <l n="317">
                     <stage>[aside to Ariel]</stage> My Ariel, chick,</l>
                  <l n="318">That is thy charge: then to the elements</l>
                  <l n="319">Be free, and fare thou well! <stage>[to the others]</stage> Please you,
                     draw near.</l>
               </sp>
               <stage>Exeunt</stage>
            </div>
         </div>
      </body>
      <back>

         <epilogue>
            <head type="title">
               <ref target="epilogue_" corresp="epilogue">EPILOGUE</ref>
               <note xml:id="epilogue" target="epilogue_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#LD">An
                  epilogue serves as a conclusionary poem or speech to a play, with the main purpose
                  of tying up the many subplots and providing some closure for the characters at the
                  end of the tale. It is usually performed in the form of a monologue in which
                  applause is sought, addressed directly to the audience.</note>
            </head>
            <head type="sub">spoken by Prospero</head>
            <sp style="verse">
               <speaker>[Prospero]</speaker>
               <l n="1">Now my charms are all o'erthrown,</l>
               <l n="2">And what strength I have's mine own,</l>
               <l n="3">Which is most faint: now, 'tis true,</l>
               <l n="4">I must be here confined by you,</l>
               <l n="5">Or sent to <placeName type="tgn" key="7004474">Naples</placeName>. Let me not,</l>
               <l n="6">Since I have my dukedom got</l>
               <l n="7">And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell</l>
               <l n="8">In this bare island by your spell;</l>
               <l n="9">But release me from my bands</l>
               <l n="10">With the help of your good hands:</l>
               <l n="11">Gentle breath of yours my sails</l>
               <l n="12">Must fill, or else my project fails,</l>
               <l n="13">Which was to please. Now I want</l>
               <l n="14">Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,</l>
               <l n="15">And my ending is despair,</l>
               <l n="16">Unless I be relieved by prayer,</l>
               <l n="17">Which pierces so that it assaults</l>
               <l n="18">Mercy itself and frees all faults.</l>
               <l n="19">
                  <hi rend="indent">As you from crimes would pardon'd be,</hi>
               </l>
               <l n="20">
                  <hi rend="indent">Let your indulgence set me free.</hi>
               </l>
            </sp>
         </epilogue>

         <trailer>FINIS</trailer>
      </back>
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   <text>

      <front>
         <titlePage>
            <pb n="[TP]" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_09.jpg"/>

            <titlePart>THE WASTE LAND<lb/>
                        </titlePart>
            <titlePart>BY<lb/> T. S. ELIOT<lb/>
                        </titlePart>

            <epigraph>
               <quote>
                  <ref target="epigraph_" corresp="epigraph">
                                    <lg>
                        <l>"Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis</l>
                        <l>vidi in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent:</l>
                        <l>Σίβυλλα τί θέλεις; respondebat illa: ἀποθανεῖν θέλω."</l>
                     </lg>
                                </ref>
                                <note xml:id="epigraph" target="epigraph_" resp="editors.xml#TH" type="editorial">This is a quote from the first-century Roman prose work <hi rend="italic">Satyricon</hi> (c.54-68) believed to be by Gaius Petronius
                     (27-66CE). Eliot translated the epigraph as follows: "I saw with my own eyes
                     the Sibyl at Cumae hanging in a cage, and when the boys said to her: 'Sibyl,
                     what do you want?' she answered: 'I want to die.'"</note>
               </quote>

            </epigraph>
            <docImprint>
                            <pubPlace>
                                <placeName>NEW YORK<lb/>
                                </placeName>
                            </pubPlace>
                            <publisher>BONI AND
                  LIVERIGHT</publisher>
                            <docDate>1922</docDate>
                        </docImprint>
         </titlePage>
      </front>
      <body>

         <div type="poem">

            <pb n="9" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_13.jpg"/>


            <div type="canto" n="1">
               <head type="sub">I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD</head>
               <lg>
                  <l n="1">
                                    <ref target="_Chaucer" corresp="Chaucer">APRIL is the cruellest
                        month</ref>, breeding</l>
                  <note xml:id="Chaucer" target="_Chaucer" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">The first line of <hi rend="italic">The Waste Land</hi> alludes to the
                        General Prologue of Geoffrey Chaucer's <hi rend="italic">Canterbury
                           Tales</hi>, which opens with a "description of Spring characteristic of
                        dream visions of secular love" (<ref target="https://chaucer.fas.harvard.edu/pages/general-prologue">Harvard</ref>). Chaucer's poem begins, in modern English, as follows: <quote>
                                        <lg>
                              <l>When April with its sweet-smelling showers</l>

                              <l>THas pierced the drought of March to the root,</l>

                              <l>And bathed every vein (of the plants) in such liquid</l>

                              <l>By which power the flower is created;</l>

                              <l>When the West Wind also with its sweet breath</l>

                              <l>In every wood and field has breathed life into</l>

                              <l>The tender new leaves, and the young sun</l>

                              <l>Has run half its course in Aries,</l>

                              <l>And small fowls make melody,</l>

                              <l>Those that sleep all the night with open eyes</l>

                              <l>(So Nature incites them in their hearts),</l>

                              <l>Then folk long to go on pilgrimages,</l>

                              <l>And professional pilgrims to seek foreign shores,</l>

                              <l>To distant shrines, known in various lands.... (<ref target="https://chaucer.fas.harvard.edu/pages/general-prologue-0">General
                                 Prologue, 1-14</ref>)</l>
                           </lg>
                                    </quote>You might consider how Eliot's version compares to
                        this source text.</note>
                  <l n="2">Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing</l>
                  <l n="3">Memory and desire, stirring</l>
                  <l n="4">Dull roots with spring rain.</l>
                  <l n="5">Winter kept us warm, covering</l>
                  <l n="6">Earth in forgetful snow, feeding</l>
                  <l n="7">A little life with dried tubers.</l>
                  <l n="8">Summer surprised us, coming over the <placeName key="7004706" type="tgn">Starnbergersee</placeName>
                                </l>
                  <l n="9">With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,</l>
                  <l n="10">And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, </l>
                  <pb n="10" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_14.jpg"/>
                  <l n="11">And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.</l>
                  <l n="12">
                                    <ref target="_identity" corresp="identity">Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’
                        aus Litauen, echt deutsch.</ref>
                                </l>
                  <note xml:id="identity" target="_identity" type="editorial" resp="critic.xml#ZO">
                     In this passage, the female speaker's statement, "I am not Russian at all; I
                        come from Lithuania, really German," introduces the theme of fragmentation
                        and displacement that permeates the poem. The speaker's identity is shaped
                        by multiple cultural influences, resulting in a fragmented sense of self.
                        She does not fully identify as Russian, Lithuanian, or German, but as a
                        hybrid of all three. This complex identity further highlights the themes of
                        displacement and cultural conflict throughout the work.
                  </note>
                  <l n="13">And when we were children, staying at the archduke’s,</l>
                  <l n="14">My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,</l>
                  <l n="15">And I was frightened. He said, Marie,</l>
                  <l n="16">Marie, hold on tight. And down he went.</l>
                  <l n="17">In the mountains, there you feel free.</l>
                  <l n="18">I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.</l>
               </lg>
               <lg>
                  <l n="19">What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow</l>
                  <l n="20">Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,</l>
                  <pb n="11" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_15.jpg"/>
                  <l n="21">You cannot say, or guess, for you know only</l>
                  <l n="22">A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,</l>
                  <l n="23">And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,</l>
                  <l n="24">And the dry stone no sound of water. Only</l>
                  <l n="25">There is shadow under this red rock,</l>
                  <l n="26">(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),</l>
                  <l n="27">And I will show you something different from either</l>
                  <l n="28">Your shadow at morning striding behind you</l>
                  <l n="29">Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;</l>
                  <pb n="12" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_16.jpg"/>
                  <l n="30">I will show you fear in a handful of dust.</l>
               </lg>
               <lg>
                  <l n="31" rend="indent3">
                                    <hi rend="italic">
                                        <ref target="Wagner_" corresp="Wagner">Frisch</ref> weht der Wind</hi>
                                </l>
                  <l n="32" rend="indent3">
                                    <hi rend="italic">Der-Heimat zu</hi>
                                </l>
                  <l n="33" rend="indent3">
                                    <hi rend="italic">Mein Irisch Kind,</hi>
                                </l>
                  <l n="34" rend="indent3">
                                    <hi rend="italic">Wo weilest du?</hi>
                                </l>
               </lg>
               <note xml:id="Wagner" target="Wagner_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">
                                <graphic url="notes/John_william_waterhouse_tristan_and_isolde_with_the_potion.jpeg"/>These lines are quoted from Richard Wagner's <hi rend="italic">Tristan und
                     Isolde</hi> (1865), a German opera based on a 12th century chivalric tragic
                  poem <hi rend="italic">Tristan and Iseult</hi>. There are multiple different
                  versions of the story, but at root, it is a Celtic legend about tragic love; the
                  knight Tristan has been tasked with accompanying the Irish maiden Iseult to be
                  married to his uncle, the King of Cornwall. On the way, Tristan and Iseult fall
                  deeply in love, which causes many tempestuous problems. The story became very
                  popular in the ninteenth and early twentieth centuries, especially among the
                  Pre-Raphaelites, a group of artists and writers influenced by Romanticism who
                  sought inspiration in Italian Renaissance art and medieval courtly themes. The
                  image included here, by the Pre-Raphaelite painter John William Waterhouse, is <hi rend="italic">Tristan and Isolde with the Potion</hi> (1916), via <ref target="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:John_william_waterhouse_tristan_and_isolde_with_the_potion.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</ref>. Tristan and Iseult are on the ship heading for
                  Cornwall and Iseult's marriage; they are drinking a love potion. The lines are
                  from the first act of <hi rend="italic">Tristan und Isolde</hi>, and are sung by
                  an anonymous sailor about his lover, left behind in Ireland. Translated, the lines
                  read "Fresh blows the wind / homeward: / my Irish maid, / where do you linger?" A
                  later line (42, below) from the same opera, "Empty and desolate is the sea,"
                  sandwiches Eliot's description of the first meeting between the "hyacinth girl"
                  (36) and her lover, who remembers being struck by her and feeling "neither /
                  Living nor dead" (39-40). (</note>
               <lg>
                  <l n="35">“You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;</l>
                  <l n="36">“They called me the hyacinth girl."</l>
                  <l n="37">—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,</l>
                  <l n="38">Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not</l>
                  <l n="39">Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither</l>
                  <l n="40">Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, </l>
                  <l n="41">Looking into the heart of light, the silence.</l>
                  <pb n="13" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_17.jpg"/>
                  <l n="42">Oed’ und leer das Meer.</l>
               </lg>
               <lg>
                  <l n="43">Madame Sosostris, famous <ref target="_clairvoyant" corresp="clairvoyant">clairvoyante</ref>,</l>
                  <note xml:id="clairvoyant" target="_clairvoyant" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#CP">
                     This noun comes from the word "clairvoyance", which in the French means
                        clear-sighted. A clairvoyant is what we would now call a psychic, someone
                        who can see things that are not physically there. Madame Sosostris is a
                        fortune teller who has a reputation as "the wisest woman in Europe." The -e
                        is added to the word clairvoyant to make it feminine in the French (OED).
                  </note>
                  <l n="44">Had a bad cold, nevertheless</l>
                  <l n="45">Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,</l>
                  <l n="46">With a wicked <ref target="cards_" corresp="cards">pack of
                        cards</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="cards" target="cards_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">A character in Eliot's poem visits a famous fortune
                        teller, and the following lines describe the tarot cards she received at a
                        reading. According to Elizabeth DeBold of the <ref target="https://collation.folger.edu/2021/02/fortunes-fools-early-tarot-cards/">Folger Shakespeare Library</ref>, tarot originated in 14th-century
                        Egypt, and traveled to Europe during the Renaissance.</note>. Here, said
                     she,</l>
                  <l n="47">Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,</l>
                  <l n="48">(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)</l>
                  <l n="49">Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,</l>
                  <l n="50">The lady of situations.</l>
                  <l n="51">Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,</l>
                  <pb n="14" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_18.jpg"/>
                  <l n="52">And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,</l>
                  <l n="53">Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,</l>
                  <l n="54">Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find</l>
                  <l n="55">The Hanged Man. Fear <ref target="_water" corresp="water">death by
                        water</ref>.</l>
                  <note xml:id="water" target="_water" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#CP">
                     Water is a prevalent motif throughout <hi rend="italic">The Waste
                        Land</hi>. Water is often associated with regeneration/rebirth, but here and
                        elsewhere, it is associated with death. 
                  </note>
                  <l n="56">I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.</l>
                  <l n="57">Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,</l>
                  <l n="58">Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:</l>
                  <l n="59">One must be so careful these days.</l>
               </lg>
               <lg>
                  <l n="60">Unreal City,</l>
                  <l n="61">Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,</l>
                  <pb n="15" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_18.jpg"/>
                  <l n="62">A crowd flowed over <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName> Bridge, so many,</l>
                  <l n="63">I had not thought death had undone so many.</l>
                  <l n="64">Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,</l>
                  <l n="65">And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.</l>
                  <l n="66">Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,</l>
                  <l n="67">To where <ref target="woolnoth_" corresp="woolnoth">Saint Mary
                        Woolnoth</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="woolnoth" target="woolnoth_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">
                                        <graphic url="notes/St_Mary_Woolnoth_Church_LCCN2014719561.jpg"/>Saint Mary
                        Woolnoth is an Anglican church in London, first built in the 12th century,
                        then rebuilt on several occasions. The photograph included here, from about
                        1900, originally from the Library of Congress, shows the church in its
                        modern form, designed by Nicholas Hawksmoore and opened in 1727. This is
                        likely very close to what Eliot would have seen. It is possible that the
                        site had been a place of worship for 2000 years (<ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Mary_Woolnoth">Wikipedia</ref>).
                     </note> kept the hours</l>
                  <l n="68">With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.</l>
                  <l n="69">There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying: “Stetson!</l>
                  <l n="70">“You who were with me in the ships at <ref target="mylae_" corresp="mylae">Mylae</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="mylae" target="mylae_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">
                                        <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Mylae">The Battle of
                           Mylae</ref>, a naval battle won in 260BCE by Roman naval
                     forces.</note>!</l>
                  <pb n="17" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_21.jpg"/>
                  <l n="71">“That corpse you planted last year in your garden,</l>
                  <l n="72">“Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?</l>
                  <l n="73">“Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?</l>
                  <l n="74">“O keep the Dog far hence, that’s friend to men,</l>
                  <l n="75">“Or with his nails he’ll dig it up again!</l>
                  <l n="76">“<hi rend="italic">
                                        <ref target="baudelaire_" corresp="baudelaire">You!
                           hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!</ref>
                                        <note xml:id="baudelaire" target="baudelaire_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">This is an allusion to the last line of Charles
                           Baudelaire's introductory poem "Au Lecteur [To the Reader]" from his
                           collection <hi rend="italic">Fleurs du mal [Flowers of Evil</hi>
                           (1857-1868). The line reads, "Hypocritical reader, --my twin, --my
                           brother!" You can read Baudelaire's poems <ref target="https://fleursdumal.org/">online</ref>.</note>
                                    </hi>"</l>
               </lg>

            </div>
            <pb n="16" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_20.jpg"/>
            <div type="canto" n="2">
               <head type="sub">II. A GAME OF CHESS</head>

               <lg>
                  <l n="77">The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,</l>
                  <l n="78">Glowed on the marble, where the glass</l>
                  <l n="79">Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines</l>
                  <l n="80">From which a golden <ref target="_cupidon" corresp="cupidon">Cupidon</ref> peeped out</l>
                  <note xml:id="cupidon" target="_cupidon" type="editorial" resp="critic.xml#ZO">
                     <graphic url="notes/Eros_bow_Musei_Capitolini_MC410.jpeg"/>The scene
                        described by the speaker features banners adorned with fruit-bearing vines
                        and a standard depicting a golden "Cupidon," an alternate name for the Roman
                        god of love, Cupid. The use of Cupidon in this context evokes themes of
                        desire, fertility, and the pursuit of romantic love. The image of Cupidon
                        peeking out from behind the banner may also imply a sense of voyeurism or
                        hidden desire, contributing to an undercurrent of sexual tension in the
                        scene. This lush, sensual imagery is suggestive of the speaker's heightened
                        sensibility, and highlights the poem's themes of passion and desire. The
                        image included here, via <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cupid#/media/File:Eros_bow_Musei_Capitolini_MC410.jpg">Wikipedia</ref>, shows a Roman copy of an original Greek sculpture of
                           <hi rend="italic">Eros Stringing His Bow</hi>.
                  </note>

                  <l n="81">(Another hid his eyes behind his wing)</l>
                  <l n="82">Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra</l>
                  <l n="83">Reflecting light upon the table as</l>
                  <l n="84">The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,</l>
                  <l n="85">From satin cases poured in rich profusion.</l>
                  <pb n="18" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_22.jpg"/>
                  <l n="86">In vials of ivory and coloured glass</l>
                  <l n="87">Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes,</l>
                  <l n="88">Unguent, powdered, or liquid—troubled, confused</l>
                  <l n="89">And drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the air</l>
                  <l n="90">That freshened from the window, these ascended</l>
                  <l n="91">In fattening the prolonged candle-flames,</l>
                  <l n="92">Flung their smoke into the laquearia,</l>
                  <l n="93">Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.</l>
                  <l n="94">Huge sea-wood fed with copper</l>
                  <l n="95">Burned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone,</l>
                  <l n="96">In which sad light a carvèd dolphin swam.</l>
                  <pb n="19" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_23.jpg"/>
                  <l n="97">Above the antique mantel was displayed</l>
                  <l n="98">As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene</l>
                  <l n="99">The change of <ref target="philomel_" corresp="philomel">Philomel</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="philomel" target="philomel_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">An allusion to the ancient Greek story of Philomela,
                        which was recounted in Ovid's <hi rend="italic">
                                            <ref target="http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus:text:1999.02.0028">Metamorphoses</ref> 6.412-674</hi>. In the story, Tereus, King of
                        Thrace, marries the Athenian Procne. Procne asks her husband to bring her
                        sister, Philomela, to visit her in Thrace. Tereus rapes Philomela, and to
                        keep her from telling her sister of the assault, he cuts out her tongue.
                        Philomela communicates her story to Procne by weaving a tapestry showing the
                        events. The two sisters avenge the abuse by killing Itys, Procne and Tereus'
                        son, and baking him into a pie which Tereus eats. The women flee, pursued by
                        Tereus; the gods transform the three into birds--Philomela becomes the
                        sweet-singing nightingale. </note>, by the barbarous king</l>
                  <l n="100">So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale</l>
                  <l n="101">Filled all the desert with inviolable voice</l>
                  <l n="102">And still she cried, and still the world pursues,</l>
                  <l n="103">“Jug Jug" to dirty ears.</l>
                  <l n="104">And other withered stumps of time</l>
                  <l n="105">Were told upon the walls; staring forms</l>
                  <l n="106">Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed.</l>
                  <l n="107">Footsteps shuffled on the stair.</l>
                  <pb n="20" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_24.jpg"/>
                  <l n="108">Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair</l>
                  <l n="109">Spread out in fiery points</l>
                  <l n="110">Glowed into words, then would be savagely still.</l>
               </lg>
               <lg>
                  <l n="111">“My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.</l>
                  <l n="112">“Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.</l>
                  <l n="113">“What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?</l>
                  <l n="114">“I never know what you are thinking. Think."</l>
               </lg>
               <lg>
                  <l n="115">I think we are in rats’ alley</l>
                  <l n="116">Where the dead men lost their bones.</l>
               </lg>
               <pb n="21" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_25.jpg"/>
               <lg>
                  <l n="117">“What is that noise?"</l>
                  <l n="118">The wind under the door.</l>
                  <l n="119">“What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?"</l>
                  <l n="120">Nothing again nothing.</l>
                  <l n="121"> “Do</l>
                  <l n="122">“You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember</l>
                  <l n="123">“Nothing?"</l>
               </lg>
               <lg>

                  <l n="124">I remember</l>
                  <l n="125">
                                    <ref target="pearls_" corresp="pearls">Those are pearls that were his
                        eyes.</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="pearls" target="pearls_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">Throughout <hi rend="italic">The Waste Land</hi>,
                        Eliot refers to Shakespeare's <hi rend="italic">
                                            <ref target="https://anthology.lib.virginia.edu/work/Shakespeare/shakespeare-tempest">The Tempest</ref>
                                        </hi>. This is an allusion to I.ii.394-398, when
                        Ariel sings about a drowned man undergoing "a sea-change / Into something
                        rich and strange." The words suggest the fate of Ferdinand's father, whom he
                        believes lost at sea.</note>
                                </l>
                  <l n="126">“Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?"</l>
               </lg>
               <l n="127">But</l>
               <l n="128">O O O O <ref target="rag_" corresp="rag">that Shakespeherian
                  Rag</ref>—</l>
               <note xml:id="rag" target="rag_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">Though Eliot
                  has made changes to the language, <hi rend="italic">That Shakespearian Rag</hi> is
                  a ragtime tune from 1912 (Parker, <ref target="https://theworld.com/~raparker/exploring/thewasteland/exsongs.html#Shakesperian_Rag">"Songs in T.S. Eliot's <hi rend="italic">The Waste Land</hi>"</ref>). <ref target="https://www.britannica.com/art/ragtime">Ragtime</ref> was a projenitor
                  of jazz, the rhythms of which influenced Eliot's style. </note>
               <l n="129">It’s so elegant</l>
               <l n="130">So intelligent</l>
               <pb n="22" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_26.jpg"/>
               <l n="131">“What shall I do now? What shall I do?"</l>
               <l n="132">I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street</l>
               <l n="133">“With my hair down, so. What shall we do tomorrow?</l>
               <l n="134">“What shall we ever do?"</l>
               <l n="135">The hot w[a]ter at ten.</l>
               <l n="136">And if it rains, a closed car at four.</l>
               <l n="137">And we shall play a game of chess,</l>
               <l n="138">Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.</l>

               <l n="139">When Lil’s husband got <ref target="demobbed_" corresp="demobbed">demobbed</ref>
                                <note xml:id="demobbed" target="demobbed_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">Colloquial British expression for "demobilized,"
                     specifically, released from military service. Lil's husband likely served in
                     World War I (1914-1918).</note>, I said—</l>
               <pb n="23" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_27.jpg"/>
               <l n="140"> I didn’t mince my words, I said to her myself,</l>
               <l n="141">
                                <ref target="hurry_" corresp="hurry">HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME</ref>
                                <note xml:id="hurry" target="hurry_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">The
                     barkeep is informing the patrons of closing time.</note>
                            </l>
               <l n="142">Now Albert’s coming back, make yourself a bit smart.</l>
               <l n="143">He’ll want to know what you done with that money he gave you</l>
               <l n="144">To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there.</l>
               <l n="145">You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set,</l>
               <l n="146">He said, I swear, I can’t bear to look at you.</l>
               <l n="147">And no more can’t I, I said, and think of poor Albert,</l>
               <l n="148">He’s been in the army four years, he wants a good time,</l>
               <pb n="24" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_28.jpg"/>
               <l n="149">And if you don’t give it him, there’s others will, I said.</l>
               <l n="150">Oh is there, she said. Something o’ that, I said.</l>
               <l n="151">Then I’ll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight look.</l>
               <l n="152">HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME</l>
               <l n="153">If you don’t like it you can get on with it, I said.</l>
               <l n="154">Others can pick and choose if you can’t.</l>
               <l n="155">But if Albert makes off, it won’t be for lack of telling.</l>
               <l n="156">You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique.</l>
               <l n="157">(And her only thirty-one.)</l>
               <l n="158">I can’t help it, she said, pulling a long face,</l>
               <pb n="25" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_29.jpg"/>
               <l n="159">It’s them <ref target="pills_" corresp="pills">pills</ref>
                                <note xml:id="pills" target="pills_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">The speaker
                     is referring to medication that induces abortion.</note> I took, to bring it
                  off, she said.</l>
               <l n="160">(She’s had five already, and nearly died of young George.)</l>
               <l n="161">The chemist said it would be all right, but I’ve never been the same.</l>
               <l n="162">You are a proper fool, I said.</l>
               <l n="163">Well, if Albert won’t leave you alone, there it is, I said,</l>
               <l n="164">What you get married for if you don’t want children?</l>
               <l n="165">HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME</l>
               <l n="166">Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,</l>
               <l n="167">And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot—</l>
               <pb n="26" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_30.jpg"/>
               <l n="168">HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME</l>
               <l n="169">HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME</l>
               <l n="170">Goonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May. Goonight.</l>
               <l n="171">Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight.</l>
               <l n="172">Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.</l>
            </div>
            <pb n="27" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_31.jpg"/>
            <div type="canto" n="3">
               <head type="sub">III. THE FIRE SERMON</head>

               <lg>
                  <l n="173">THE river’s tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf</l>
                  <l n="174">Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind</l>
                  <l n="175">Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed.</l>
                  <l n="176">Sweet <placeName type="tgn" key="7011913">Thames</placeName>, run
                     softly, till I end my song.</l>
                  <l n="177">The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,</l>
                  <l n="178">Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends</l>
                  <l n="179">Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed.</l>
                  <pb n="28" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_32.jpg"/>
                  <l n="180">And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors;</l>
                  <l n="181">Departed, have left no addresses.</l>
                  <l n="182">By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . .</l>
                  <l n="183">
                                    <ref target="spenser_" corresp="spenser">Sweet Thames, run softly till
                        I end my song,</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="spenser" target="spenser_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">An allusion to Edmund Spenser's poem <ref target="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45217/prothalamion-56d224a0e2feb">"Prothalamion"</ref> (1596), which celebrates the marriage of two
                        "nymphs." Nymphs are female water spirits of classical myth, but the word
                        also suggests young women in general. A prothalamion is a type of poem that
                        celebrates a coming marriage.</note>
                                </l>
                  <l n="184">Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.</l>
                  <l n="185">But at my back in a cold blast I hear</l>
                  <l n="186">The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.</l>
               </lg>
               <lg>
                  <l n="187">A rat crept softly through the vegetation</l>
                  <l n="188">Dragging its slimy belly on the bank</l>
                  <l n="189">While I was fishing in the dull canal</l>
                  <pb n="29" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_33.jpg"/>
                  <l n="190">On a winter evening round behind the gashouse</l>
                  <l n="191">Musing upon the king my brother’s wreck</l>
                  <l n="192">And on the king my father’s death before him.</l>
                  <l n="193">White bodies naked on the low damp ground</l>
                  <l n="194">And bones cast in a little low dry garret,</l>
                  <l n="195">Rattled by the rat’s foot only, year to year.</l>
                  <l n="196">But at my back from time to time I hear</l>
                  <l n="197">The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring</l>
                  <l n="198">Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring.</l>
                  <l n="199">O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter</l>
                  <l n="200">And on her daughter</l>
                  <pb n="30" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_34.jpg"/>
                  <l n="201">They wash their feet in soda water</l> 
                  <l n="202">
                                    <hi rend="italic">
                                        <ref target="_Verlaine" corresp="Verlaine">Et O ces
                           voix d’enfants, chantant dans la coupole!</ref>
                                    </hi>
                                </l>
                  <note xml:id="Verlaine" target="_Verlaine" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#ZO">
                     In this line, the speaker directly
                        alludes to the last line of the French poet Paul Verlaine’s sonnet
                        "Parsifal": "And, O those children's voices singing in the dome!" The sonnet
                        is a meditation on art and the power of music; it reflects the poet's
                        response to hearing <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parsifal">Richard Wagner's opera <hi rend="italic">Parsifal</hi>
                                    </ref>, which is a
                        major intertext to Eliot's poem. The use of this allusion adds an extra
                        layer of meaning to the poem. The inclusion of French in the midst of an
                        English poem could also suggest a sense of cultural dislocation or
                        separation. Additionally, the image of children's voices singing in a dome
                        may represent a symbol of purity and innocence that contrasts with the
                        themes of corruption and decay present elsewhere in the poem. To learn more
                        about Verlaine, see <ref target="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/paul-verlaine">the Poetry
                           Foundation</ref>. To learn more about Wagner's role in "The Waste Land,"
                        see this scholarly essay by Philip Waldron, <ref target="https://www.jstor.org/stable/3831390">"The Music of Poetry:
                           Wagner in <hi rend="italic">The Waste Land</hi>."</ref>. You can read
                        Verlaine's poem in the original French and in English translation <ref target="https://www.monsalvat.no/verlaine.htm">here</ref>.
                  </note>
               </lg>

               <lg>
                  <l n="203">Twit twit twit</l>
                  <l n="204">Jug jug jug jug jug jug</l>
                  <l n="205">So rudely forc’d.</l>
                  <l n="206">Tereu</l>
               </lg>

               <lg>
                  <l n="207">Unreal City</l>
                  <l n="208">Under the brown fog of a winter noon</l>
                  <l n="209">Mr. Eugenides, the <placeName type="tgn" key="7002543" cert="medium">Smyrna</placeName> merchant</l>
                  <l n="210">Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants</l>
                  <l n="211">C.i.f. London: documents at sight,</l>
                  <l n="212">Asked me in demotic French</l>
                  <l n="213">To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel</l>
                  <pb n="31" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_35.jpg"/>
                  <l n="214">Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.</l>
               </lg>
               <lg>
                  <l n="215">At the violet hour, when the eyes and back</l>
                  <l n="216">Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits</l>
                  <l n="217">Like a taxi throbbing waiting,</l>
                  <l n="218">I <ref target="_tiresias" corresp="tiresias">Tiresias</ref>
                                    <note xml:id="tiresias" target="_tiresias" resp="editors.xml#TH" type="editorial">In Greek mythology, Tiresias is a blind prophet who also lived as both a
                        man and a woman. He was instrumental in the action of Sophocles' Oedipus
                        plays, and he also appeared in Homer's <hi rend="italic">Odyssey</hi>.</note>, though blind, throbbing between two lives,</l>
                  <l n="219">Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see</l>
                  <l n="200">At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives</l>
                  <l n="221">Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea,</l>
                  <l n="222">The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights</l>
                  <pb n="32" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_36.jpg"/>
                  <l n="223">Her stove, and lays out food in tins.</l>
                  <l n="224">Out of the window perilously spread</l>
                  <l n="225">Her drying combinations touched by the sun’s last rays,</l>
                  <l n="226">On the divan are piled (at night her bed)</l>
                  <l n="227">Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays.</l>
                  <l n="228">I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs</l>
                  <l n="229">Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest—</l>
                  <l n="230">I too awaited the expected guest.</l>
                  <l n="231">He, the young man <ref target="_carbuncular" corresp="carbuncular">carbuncular</ref>, arrives,</l>
                  <note xml:id="carbuncular" target="_carbuncular" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#CP">
                     Used here as an adjective, "carbuncular" comes from the word "carbuncle,"
                        which is an lesion on the skin that is irritated and filled with pus, and
                        overall is unpleasant to look at (OED n3). 
                  </note>
                  <l n="232">A small house agent’s clerk, with one bold stare,</l>
                  <l n="233">One of the low on whom assurance sits</l>
                  <l n="234">As a silk hat on a <placeName type="tgn" key="7010443">Bradford</placeName> millionaire.</l>
                  <l n="235">The time is now propitious, as he guesses,</l>
                  <l n="236">The meal is ended, she is bored and tired,</l>
                  <pb n="33" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_37.jpg"/>
                  <l n="237">Endeavours to engage her in caresses</l>
                  <l n="238">Which still are unreproved, if undesired.</l>
                  <l n="239">Flushed and decided, he assaults at once;</l>
                  <l n="240">Exploring hands encounter no defence;</l>
                  <l n="241">His vanity requires no response,</l>
                  <l n="242">And makes a welcome of indifference.</l>
                  <l n="243">(And I Tiresias have foresuffered all</l>
                  <l n="244">Enacted on this same divan or bed;</l>
                  <l n="245">I who have sat by <placeName type="tgn" key="7029383">Thebes</placeName> below the wall</l>
                  <l n="246">And walked among the lowest of the dead.)</l>
                  <l n="247">Bestows one final patronising kiss,</l>
                  <l n="248">And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit . . .</l>
               </lg>

               <lg>
                  <l n="249">She turns and looks a moment in the glass,</l>
                  <l n="250">Hardly aware of her departed lover;</l>
                  <pb n="34" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_38.jpg"/>
                  <l n="251">Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:</l>
                  <l n="252">“Well now that’s done: and I’m glad it’s over."</l>
                  <l n="253">When lovely woman stoops to folly and</l>
                  <l n="254">Paces about her room again, alone,</l>
                  <l n="255">She smooths her hair with automatic hand,</l>
                  <l n="256">And puts a record on the gramophone.</l>
               </lg>
               <lg>
                  <l n="257">“This music crept by me upon the waters"</l>
                  <l n="258">And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.</l>
                  <l n="259">O City city, I can sometimes hear</l>
                  <l n="260">Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street,</l>
                  <pb n="35" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_39.jpg"/>
                  <l n="261">The pleasant whining of a mandoline</l>
                  <l n="262">And a clatter and a chatter from within</l>
                  <l n="263">Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls</l>
                  <l n="264">Of Magnus Martyr hold</l>
                  <l n="265">Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.</l>
               </lg>

               <lg>
                  <l n="266">The river sweats</l>
                  <l n="267">Oil and tar</l>
                  <l n="268">The barges drift</l>
                  <l n="269">With the turning tide</l>
                  <l n="270">Red sails</l>
                  <l n="271">Wide</l>
                  <l n="272">To leeward, swing on the heavy spar.</l>
                  <l n="273">The barges wash</l>
                  <pb n="36" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_40.jpg"/>
                  <l n="274">Drifting logs</l>
                  <l n="275">Down <placeName type="tgn" key="7018915">Greenwich</placeName>
                     reach</l>
                  <l n="276">Past the <placeName type="tgn" key="1006968">Isle of
                     Dogs</placeName>.</l>
                  <l n="277" rend="indent3">Weialala leia</l>
                  <l n="278" rend="indent3">Wallala leialala</l>
                  <l n="279">Elizabeth and Leicester</l>
                  <l n="280">Beating oars</l>
                  <l n="281">The stern was formed</l>
                  <l n="282">A gilded shell</l>
                  <l n="283">Red and gold</l>
                  <l n="284">The brisk swell</l>
                  <l n="285">Rippled both shores</l>
                  <l n="286">Southwest wind</l>
                  <l n="287">Carried down stream</l>
                  <l n="288">The peal of bells</l>
                  <l n="289">White towers</l>
                  <pb n="37" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_41.jpg"/>
                  <l n="290" rend="indent3">Weialala leia</l>
                  <l n="291" rend="indent3">Wallala leialala</l>
               </lg>

               <lg>
                  <l n="292">“Trams and dusty trees.</l>
                  <l n="293">
                                    <placeName type="tgn" key="7462493">Highbury</placeName> bore me.
                        <placeName type="tgn" key="7018903">Richmond</placeName> and <placeName type="tgn" key="4005652" cert="medium">Kew</placeName>
                                </l>
                  <l n="294">Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees</l>
                  <l n="295">Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe."</l>
               </lg>

               <lg>
                  <l n="296">“My feet are at <ref target="_Moorgate" corresp="Moorgate">Moorgate</ref>, and my heart</l>
                  <note xml:id="Moorgate" target="_Moorgate" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#CP">
                     <graphic url="notes/Moorgate_gate.jpeg"/>Dating back to the Medieval period,
                        Moorgate was the last of the old gates to be built in the Roman defense wall
                        that surrounded the fort of Londinium, now London. The original Roman walls
                        were built 100-400 CE, but Moorgate was originally a secondary gate that was
                        expanded in 1415. It led to the marshy Moorfields area in the north of
                        London. It was demolished in 1762. To learn more about the <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/London_Wall">London Wall, see
                           Wikipedia</ref>. The image here, also via <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moorgate">Wikipedia</ref>, shows an
                        18th-century engraving depicting Moorgate before it was demolished. 
                  </note>

                  <l n="297">Under my feet. After the event</l>
                  <l n="298">He wept. He promised ‘a new start’.</l>
                  <l n="299">I made no comment. What should I resent?"</l>
                  <l n="300">“On Margate Sands.</l>
                  <l n="301">I can connect</l>
                  <l n="302">Nothing with nothing.</l>
                  <pb n="38" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_42.jpg"/>
                  <l n="303">The broken fingernails of dirty hands.</l>
                  <l n="304">My people humble people who expect</l>
                  <l n="305">Nothing."</l>
                  <l n="306" rend="indent3">la la</l>
               </lg>

               <lg>
                  <l n="307">To <placeName type="tgn" key="7016143">
                                        <ref target="_Carthage" corresp="Carthage">Carthage</ref>
                                    </placeName> then I came</l>
                  <note xml:id="Carthage" target="_Carthage" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#ZO">
                     <graphic url="notes/Carthage_National_Museum_representation_of_city.jpeg"/>This is a reference to the ancient city of Carthage, which was located in
                        what is now Tunisia. Carthage was a major center of trade and civilization
                        in the ancient Mediterranean world, but it was destroyed by the Romans in
                        the Punic Wars in the 2nd century BCE. The use of Carthage in the poem may
                        suggest themes of destruction, decay, and the decline of civilization. The
                        city of Carthage has been interpreted as a symbol of the failure and fall of
                        human civilizations, which can serve as a warning for modern society. The
                        image included in this annotation, <ref target="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Carthage_National_Museum_representation_of                            _city.jpg">via Wikimedia Commons</ref>, shows
                        a representation of the ancient city from the Carthage National Museum in
                        Tunisia.
                  </note>

               </lg>
               <lg>
                  <l n="308">Burning burning burning burning</l>
                  <l n="309">O Lord Thou pluckest me out</l>
                  <l n="310">O Lord Thou pluckest</l>
               </lg>

               <lg>
                  <l n="311">burning</l>
               </lg>
            </div>
            <pb n="39" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_43.jpg"/>
            <div type="canto" n="4">
               <head type="sub">IV. DEATH BY WATER</head>
               <lg>
                  <l n="312">PHLEBAS the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,</l>
                  <l n="313">Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell</l>
                  <l n="314">And the profit and loss.</l>
                  <l n="315">A current under sea</l>
                  <l n="316">Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell</l>
                  <l n="317">He passed the stages of his age and youth</l>
                  <l n="318">Entering the whirlpool.</l>
                  <l n="319" rend="indent3">Gentile or Jew</l>
                  <l n="320">O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,</l>
                  <l n="321">Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.</l>
               </lg>
            </div>
            <pb n="40" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_44.jpg"/>
            <div type="canto" n="5">
               <head type="sub">V. WHAT THE THUNDER SAID</head>
               <lg>
                  <l n="322">AFTER the torchlight red on sweaty faces</l>
                  <l n="323">After the frosty silence in the gardens</l>
                  <l n="324">After the agony in stony places</l>
                  <l n="325">The shouting and the crying</l>
                  <l n="326">Prison and palace and reverberation</l>
                  <l n="327">Of thunder of spring over distant mountains</l>
                  <l n="328">He who was living is now dead</l>
                  <l n="329">We who were living are now dying</l>
                  <l n="330">With a little patience</l>
               </lg>
               <pb n="41" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_45.jpg"/>
               <lg>
                  <l n="331">Here is no water but only rock</l>
                  <l n="332">Rock and no water and the sandy road</l>

                  <l n="333">The road winding above among the mountains</l>
                  <l n="334">Which are mountains of rock without water</l>
                  <l n="335">If there were water we should stop and drink</l>
                  <l n="336">Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think</l>
                  <l n="337">Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand</l>
                  <l n="338">If there were only water amongst the rock</l>
                  <l n="339">Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit</l>
                  <l n="340">Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit</l>
                  <l n="341">There is not even silence in the mountains</l>
                  <pb n="42" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_46.jpg"/>
                  <l n="342">But dry sterile thunder without rain</l>
                  <l n="343">There is not even solitude in the mountains</l>
                  <l n="344">But red sullen faces sneer and snarl</l>
                  <l n="345">From doors of mudcracked houses</l>
                  <l n="346" rend="indent3">If there were water</l>
                  <l n="346" rend="indent">And no rock</l>
                  <l n="347" rend="indent">If there were rock</l>
                  <l n="348" rend="indent">And also water</l>
                  <l n="349" rend="indent">And water</l>
                  <l n="350" rend="indent">A spring</l>
                  <l n="351" rend="indent">A pool among the rock</l>
                  <l n="352" rend="indent">If there were the sound of water only</l>
                  <l n="353" rend="indent">Not the cicada</l>
                  <l n="354" rend="indent">And dry grass singing</l>
                  <l n="355" rend="indent">But sound of water over a rock</l>
                  <pb n="43" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_47.jpg"/>
                  <l n="356" rend="indent">Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees</l>
                  <l n="357" rend="indent">Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop</l>
                  <l n="358" rend="indent">But there is no water</l>
               </lg>
               <lg>
                  <l n="359">Who is the third who walks always beside you?</l>
                  <l n="360">When I count, there are only you and I together</l>
                  <l n="361">But when I look ahead up the white road</l>
                  <l n="362">There is always another one walking beside you</l>
                  <l n="363">Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded</l>
                  <l n="364"> I do not know whether a man or a woman</l>
                  <l n="365">—But who is that on the other side of you?</l>
               </lg>
               <pb n="44" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_48.jpg"/>
               <lg>
                  <l n="366">What is that sound high in the air</l>
                  <l n="367">Murmur of maternal lamentation</l>
                  <l n="368">Who are those hooded hordes swarming</l>
                  <l n="369">Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth</l>
                  <l n="370">Ringed by the flat horizon only</l>
                  <l n="371">What is the city over the mountains</l>
                  <l n="372">Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air</l>
                  <l n="373">Falling towers</l>
                  <l n="374">
                                    <placeName type="tgn" key="7001371">Jerusalem</placeName>
                     <placeName type="tgn" key="7001393">Athens</placeName>
                     <placeName type="tgn" key="7001188">Alexandria</placeName>
                                </l>
                  <l n="375">
                                    <placeName type="tgn" key="7003321">Vienna</placeName>
                     <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName>
                                </l>
                  <l n="376">Unreal</l>
               </lg>

               <lg>
                  <l n="377">A woman drew her long black hair out tight</l>
                  <pb n="45" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_49.jpg"/>
                  <l n="378">And fiddled whisper music on those strings</l>
                  <l n="379">And bats with baby faces in the violet light</l>
                  <l n="380">Whistled, and beat their wings</l>
                  <l n="381">And crawled head downward down a blackened wall</l>
                  <l n="382">And upside down in air were towers</l>
                  <l n="383">Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours</l>
                  <l n="384">And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.</l>
               </lg>

               <lg>
                  <l n="385">In this decayed hole among the mountains</l>
                  <l n="386">In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing</l>
                  <l n="387">Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel</l>
                  <l n="388">There is the empty chapel, only the wind’s home.</l>
                  <pb n="46" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_50.jpg"/>
                  <l n="389">It has no windows, and the door swings,</l>
                  <l n="390">Dry bones can harm no one.</l>
                  <l n="391">Only a cock stood on the rooftree</l>
                  <l n="392">Co co rico co co rico</l>
                  <l n="393">In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust</l>
                  <l n="394">Bringing rain</l>
               </lg>

               <lg>
                  <l n="395">Ganga was sunken, and the limp leaves</l>
                  <l n="396">Waited for rain, while the black clouds</l>
                  <l n="397">Gathered far distant, over Himavant.</l>
                  <l n="398">The jungle crouched, humped in silence.</l>
                  <l n="399">Then spoke the thunder</l>
                  <l n="400">DA</l>
                  <l n="401">
                                    <hi rend="italic">Datta:</hi> what have we given?</l>
                  <l n="402">My friend, blood shaking my heart</l>
                  <l n="403">The awful daring of a moment’s surrender</l>
                  <pb n="47" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_51.jpg"/>
                  <l n="404">Which an age of prudence can never retract</l>
                  <l n="405">By this, and this only, we have existed</l>
                  <l n="406">Which is not to be found in our obituaries</l>
                  <l n="407">Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider</l>
                  <l n="408">Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor</l>
                  <l n="409">In our empty rooms</l>
                  <l n="410">DA</l>
                  <l n="411">
                                    <hi rend="italic">Dayadhvam:</hi> I have heard the key</l>
                  <l n="412">Turn in the door once and turn once only</l>
                  <l n="413">We think of the key, each in his prison</l>
                  <l n="414">Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison</l>
                  <l n="415">Only at nightfall, aetherial rumours</l>
                  <pb n="48" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_52.jpg"/>
                  <l n="416">Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus</l>
                  <l n="417">DA</l>
                  <l n="418">
                                    <hi rend="italic">Damyata:</hi> The boat responded</l>
                  <l n="419">Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar</l>
                  <l n="420">The sea was calm, your heart would have responded</l>
                  <l n="421">Gaily, when invited, beating obedient</l>
                  <l n="422">To controlling hands</l>
               </lg>

               <lg>
                  <l n="423" rend="indent3">I sat upon the shore</l>
                  <l n="424">Fishing, with the arid plain behind me</l>
                  <l n="425">Shall I at least set my lands in order?</l>
                  <l n="426">London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down</l>
                  <pb n="49" facs="pageImages/wasteland01elio_Page_53.jpg"/>
                  <l n="427">
                                    <hi rend="italic">Poi s’ascose nel foco che gli affina</hi>
                                </l>
                  <l n="428">
                                    <hi rend="italic">Quando fiam ceu chelidon</hi> — O swallow swallow</l>
                  <l n="429">
                                    <hi rend="italic">Le Prince d’Aquitaine à la tour abolie</hi>
                                </l>
                  <l n="430">These fragments I have shored against my ruins</l>
                  <l n="431">Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo’s mad againe.</l>
                  <l n="432">Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.</l>
               </lg>
               <lg>
                  <l n="433" rend="indent">Shantih shantih shantih</l>
               </lg>


            </div>


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                 Brunstetter</name>
               <name ref="editors.xml#JOB">John
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                  <title type="main">The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah
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                     <date when="1789">1789</date>
                     <note resp="editors.xml#JOB"> Our text is based on the Text Creation
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                        copy of the second point edition of 1789, published in London by Equiano
                        himself and held at the British Library in London. The page images are from
                        the copy of the same edition held at the Alfred Small Special Collections
                        Library at the University of Virginia. We have also consulted the Oxford
                        University Press edition edited by Brycchan Carey (2018). Annotations have
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               <time when="1789">Late 18th Century</time>
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               the 18th century. This project is funded by the National Endowment for the Humanities
               and developed by faculty at The University of Virginia and Marymount University. </p>
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            <interpretation>
               <p>Research informing these annotations draws on publicly-accessible resources, with
                  links provided where possible. Annotations have also included common knowledge,
                  defined as information that can be found in multiple reliable sources. If you
                  notice an error in these annotations, please contact
                  lic.open.anthology@gmail.com.</p>
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               <time from="1750" to="1800">Early 18th Century</time>
               
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      <front>
         <div type="frontispiece">
           
              
               
            <pb n="Frontispiece" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pI.jpg"/>
            <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/equiano-interesting-narrative/equiano-frontispiece.jpeg" style="float:center" width="500px" alt="Frontispiece from the second edition" source="Albert Small Special Collections Library, University of Virginia" desc="Frontispiece image from second edition of Equiano's book, courtesy Albert Small Special Collections Library, University of Virginia"/>
            <head type="sub">
                            <hi rend="italic">Olaudah Equiano</hi>
                            <lb/> or<lb/> Gustavus Vassa,<lb/>
               <hi rend="italic">the African</hi>
                            <lb/>
                        </head>
            <head type="sub">
                            <hi rend="italic">Published March 1 1789 by G. Vassa</hi>
                        </head>
         </div>
         <pb n="[Title Page]" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pII.jpg"/>
         <titlePage>
            <docTitle>
               <titlePart> THE<lb/>INTERESTING NARRATIVE<lb/> OF<lb/> THE LIFE <lb/>OF <lb/>OLAUDAH
                  EQUIANO,<lb/> OR <lb/>GUSTAVUS VASSA,<lb/> THE AFRICAN.<lb/>
                            </titlePart>
            </docTitle>
            <docAuthor>
                            <hi rend="italic">WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.</hi>
                        </docAuthor>
                        <lb/>
            <titlePart> VOL 1.<lb/>
                        </titlePart>
            <epigraph>
               <quote>
                 <hi rend="italic">Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid,
                        for the Lord Jehovah is my strength and my song; he also is become my
                        salvation.</hi>
                  
                     <hi rend="italic">And in that day shall ye say, Praise the Lord, call upon his
                        name, declare his doings among the people,</hi>
                  
                  <bibl>Isaiah xii. 2, 4.<lb/>
                                </bibl>
               </quote>
            </epigraph>
            <titlePart> SECOND EDITION.<lb/>
                        </titlePart>
            <docImprint>
               <pubPlace> LONDON:<lb/>
                            </pubPlace>
               <publisher>Printed and sold for the AUTHOR, by T. Wilkins, No. 23, Aldermanbury;
                  sold also by Mr. Johnson, St. Paul's Church-Yard; Mr. Buckland, Paternoster-Row;
                  Messrs. Robson and Clark, Bond-street; Mr. Davis, opposite Gray's-Inn, Holborn;
                  Mr. Matthews, Strand; Mr Stockdale, Piccadilly; Mr. Richardson, Royal Exchange;
                  Mr. Kearsley, Fleet-street; and the Booksellers in Oxford and
                  Cambridge.</publisher>
               <hi rend="italic">[Entered at stationers-hall.</hi>]</docImprint>
         </titlePage>
         <div type="dedication">
            <pb n="iii" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pIII.jpg"/>
            <head>To the Lords spiritual and Temporal, and the Commons of the Parliament of Great
               Britain.</head>
            <opener>
               <salute>My Lords and Gentlemen,</salute>
            </opener>
            <p>PERMIT me, with the greatest deference and respect, to lay at your feet the following
               genuine Narrative; the chief design of which is to excite in your august assemblies a
               sense of compassion for the miseries which the Slave-Trade has entailed on my
               unfortunate countrymen. By the horrors of that trade was I first torn away from all
               the tender connexions that were naturally dear to my heart; but these, <pb n="iv" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pIV.jpg"/> through the mysterious ways of
               Providence, I ought to regard as infinitely more than compensated by the introduction
               I have thence obtained to the knowledge of the Christian religion, and of a nation
               which, by its liberal sentiments, its humanity, the glorious freedom of its
               government, and its proficiency in arts and sciences, has exalted the dignity of
               human nature.</p>
            <p>I am sensible I ought to entreat your pardon for addressing to you a work so wholly
               devoid of literary merit; but, as the production of an unlettered African, who is
               actuated by the hope of becoming an instrument towards the relief of his suffering
               countrymen, I trust that <hi rend="italic">such a man,</hi> pleading in <hi rend="italic">such a</hi>
               <pb n="v" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pV.jpg"/>
               <hi rend="italic">cause,</hi> will be acquitted of boldness and presumption.</p>
            <p>May the God of heaven inspire your hearts with peculiar benevolence on that important
               day when the question of Abolition is to be discussed, when thousands, in consequence
               of your Determination, are to look for Happiness or Misery!</p>
            <closer>
               <signed>I am, MY LORDS AND GENTLEMEN, Your most obedient, And devoted humble servant,
                  OLAUDAH EQUIANO, OR GUSTAVUS VASSA.</signed>
               <date>No. 10, Union-Street, Mary-le-bone, Dec. 24, 1789.
               </date>
            </closer>
         </div>
         <div type="list_of_subscribers">
            <pb n="vi" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pVI.jpg"/>
            <head>A <lb/>LIST <lb/>OF <lb/>
                            <ref target="subscribers_" corresp="subscribers">SUBSCRIBERS</ref>.</head>
            <lg>
               <l>His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales.</l>
               <l>His Royal Highness the Duke of York.</l>
               <l>His Royal Highness the Duke of Cumberland.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <head>A</head>
               <l>The Right Hon. the Earl of Ailesbury</l>
               <l>Admiral Affleck</l>
               <l>Mr. William Abington, 2 copies</l>
               <l>Mr. John Abraham</l>
               <l>James Adair, Esq.</l>
               <pb n="vii" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pVII.jpg"/>
               <l>The Reverend Charles Adams</l>
               <l>Miss Mary Adams</l>
               <l>John Ady</l>
               <l>The Reverend Mr. Aldridge</l>
               <l>Mr. John Almon</l>
               <l>Mrs. Arnot</l>
               <l>Mr. Joseph Armitage</l>
               <l>Mr. Joseph Ashpinshaw</l>
               <l>Mrs. Ashman</l>
               <l>Mr. Samuel Atkins</l>
               <l>Mr John Attwood</l>
               <l>Mr. Thomas Attwood</l>
               <l>Mr. Ashwell</l>
               <l>J. C. Ashworth, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr. Audley</l>
               <l>Mr. Aufrere</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <head>B</head>
               <l>His Grace the Duke of Bedford</l>
               <l>Her Grace the Duchess of Buccleugh</l>
               <l>The Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of Bangor</l>
               <l>The Right Hon. Lord Belgrave</l>
               <l>The Reverend Doctor Baker</l>
               <l>Mrs. Baker</l>
               <l>Matthew Baillie, M. D.</l>
               <l>Mrs. Baillie</l>
               <l>Miss Baillie</l>
               <l>Miss J. Baillie</l>
               <l>David Barclay, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr. Robert Barrett</l>
               <l>Mr. William Barrett</l>
               <l>Mr. John Barnes</l>
               <l>Mr. John Basnett</l>
               <l>Mr. Bateman</l>
               <pb n="viii" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pVIII.jpg"/>
               <l>Mrs. Baynes, 2 copies</l>
               <l>Mr. Thomas Bellamy</l>
               <l>Admiral George Belfour</l>
               <l>Mr. J. Benjafield</l>
               <l>Mr, William Bennett</l>
               <l>Mr. Bensley</l>
               <l>Mr. Samuel Benson</l>
               <l>Mrs. Benton</l>
               <l>The Reverend Mr. Bently</l>
               <l>Mr. Thomas Bentley</l>
               <l>Mr. J. P Berthon</l>
               <l>Sir John Berney, Bart.</l>
               <l>Alexander Blair, Esq.</l>
               <l>James Bocock, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mrs. Bond</l>
               <l>Miss Bond</l>
               <l>Mrs. Borckhardt</l>
               <l>Mrs. E. Boverie</l>
               <l>Alderman Boydell</l>
               <l>Mr. Harris Bottisham</l>
               <l>——— Brand, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr. Martin Brander</l>
               <l>F. J. Brown, Esq. M. P. 2 copies</l>
               <l>W. Buttall, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr. Buxton</l>
               <l>Mr. R. L. B.</l>
               <l>Mr. Thomas Burton, 6 copies</l>
               <l>Mr. W. Button</l>
               <l>Mr. Barton</l>
               <l>Edward Burch, Esq. R. A.</l>
               <l>Mr Marcus Butcher</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <head>C</head>
               <l>The Right Hon. Lord Cathcart</l>
               <l>The Right Reverend Lord Bishop of Chester</l>
               <pb n="ix" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pIX.jpg"/>
               <l>The Right Hon. H. S. Conway</l>
               <l>Lady Almiria Carpenter</l>
               <l>Charles Carter, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr. James Chalmers</l>
               <l>Mr. Child</l>
               <l>Captain John Clarkson, of the Royal Navy</l>
               <l>The Rev. Mr. Thomas Clarkson, 2 copies</l>
               <l>Mr. R. Clay</l>
               <l>Mr. William Clout</l>
               <l>Mr. George Club</l>
               <l>Mr. John Cobb</l>
               <l>Miss Calwell</l>
               <l>Mr. Thomas Cooper</l>
               <l>Mr. Thomas Cooper, Jun.</l>
               <l>Richard Cosway, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr. James Coxe</l>
               <l>Mr. J. C.</l>
               <l>Mr. Croucher</l>
               <l>Mr. Cruickshanks</l>
               <l>Ottobah Cugoano, or John Stewart</l>
               <l>Mr. Joseph Chamberlain</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <head>D</head>
               <l>The Right Hon. the Earl of Dartmouth</l>
               <l>The Right Hon. the Earl of Derby</l>
               <l>sir William Dolben, Bart.</l>
               <l>Mr. John Dalby</l>
               <l>Mrs. M. Davey</l>
               <l>Mr. Davis</l>
               <l>The Reverend C. E. De Coetlogon</l>
               <l>John Delamain, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mrs. Delamain,</l>
               <pb n="x" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pX.jpg"/>
               <l>Mr. William Denton</l>
               <l>Mr. T. Dickie</l>
               <l>Mr. William Dickson</l>
               <l>Mr. Charles Dilly, 2 copies</l>
               <l>Andrew Drummond, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr. George Durant</l>
               <l>Mr. E. O. Donovan</l>
               <l>The Reverend Mr. William Dunn</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <head>E</head>
               <l>The Right Hon. the Earl of Essex</l>
               <l>The Right Hon. the Countess of Essex</l>
               <l>Sir Gilbert Elliot, Bart. 2 copies</l>
               <l>Lady Ann Erskine</l>
               <l>G. Noel Edwards, Esq. M. P. 2 copies</l>
               <l>Mr. Durs Egg</l>
               <l>Mr. Ebenezer Evans</l>
               <l>The Reverend Mr. John Eyre</l>
               <l>Mr. William Eyre</l>
               <l>Mr. John Elgar</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <head>F</head>
               <l>Mr. George Fallowdown</l>
               <l>Mr. John Fell</l>
               <l>Mrs. William Fielding</l>
               <l>F. W. Foster, Esq.</l>
               <l>The Reverend Mr. Foster</l>
               <l>Mr. J. Frith</l>
               <l>W. Fuller, Esq.</l>
            </lg>
            <pb n="xi" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pXI.jpg"/>
            <lg>
               <head>G</head>
               <l>The Right Hon. the Earl of Gainsborough</l>
               <l>The Right Hon. the Earl of Grosvenor</l>
               <l>The Right Hon. Viscount Gallway</l>
               <l>The Right Hon. Viscountess Gallway</l>
               <l>—-- Gardener, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mrs. Garrick</l>
               <l>Mr. John Gates</l>
               <l>Mr. Samuel Gear</l>
               <l>Mr. Richard George</l>
               <l>Sir Philip Gibbes, Bart. 6 copies</l>
               <l>Miss Gibbes</l>
               <l>Mr. Edward Gilbert</l>
               <l>Mr Jonathan Gillett</l>
               <l>W. P. Gilliess, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mrs. Gordon</l>
               <l>Mr. Grange</l>
               <l>Mr. William Grant</l>
               <l>Mr. John Grant</l>
               <l>Mr. Adam Graham</l>
               <l>Mr. R. Greening</l>
               <l>s. Griffiths</l>
               <l>John Grove, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mrs. Guerin</l>
               <l>The Reverend Mr. Gwinnup</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <head>H</head>
               <l>The Right Hon. the Earl of Hopetoun</l>
               <l>The Right Hon. Lord Hawke</l>
               <l>The Right Hon. Countess Harrington</l>
               <l>Right Hon. Dowager Countess of Huntingdon</l>
               <pb n="xiii" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pXII.jpg"/>
               <l>Mr. Benjamin Haigh</l>
               <l>Charles Hamilton, Esq.</l>
               <l>Thomas Hall, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr. Hall</l>
               <l>Mr. Haley</l>
               <l>Thomas Hammersley, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr. Timothy Hansfield</l>
               <l>Hugh Josiah Hansard, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mrs. Harben</l>
               <l>Mr. Moses Hart</l>
               <l>Mr. Thomas Hardy</l>
               <l>Mr. Haszelegrove</l>
               <l>Mrs. Hawkins</l>
               <l>Mr. Haysom</l>
               <l>Mr. Hearne</l>
               <l>Mr. William Hepburn</l>
               <l>Mr. J. Hibbert</l>
               <l>Mr. Jacob Higman</l>
               <l>Sir Richard Hill, Bart.</l>
               <l>Reverend Mr. Rowland Hill</l>
               <l>Miss Hill</l>
               <l>Captain John Hills, Royal Navy</l>
               <l>Edmund Hill, Esq.</l>
               <l>The Reverend Mr. Edward Hoare</l>
               <l>William Hodges, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mrs. Hogflesh</l>
               <l>The Reverend Mr. John Holmes, 3 copies</l>
               <l>Mr. Martin Hopkins</l>
               <l>Mr. Thomas Howell</l>
               <l>Mr. R. Huntley</l>
               <l>Mr. J. Hunt</l>
               <l>Mr. Philip Hurlock, Sen.</l>
               <l>Mr. Hutson</l>
               <l>Mr. Hodgkinson</l>
               <l>Mr. Abraham Horsfall</l>
               <l>Mr. John Horsfall</l>
               <l>Mr. John Horsfall</l>
               <l>Mr. Robert Hudson</l>
               <l>Mr. George Hutton</l>
            </lg>
            <pb n="xiii" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pXIII.jpg"/>
            <lg>
               <head>J</head>
               <l>Mr. T. W. J. Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr. James Jackson</l>
               <l>Mr. Thomas Jackson</l>
               <l>Mr. John Jackson</l>
               <l>Mr. James Jacobs</l>
               <l>Reverend Mr. James</l>
               <l>Mr. Jefferys, Royal Navy</l>
               <l>Mrs. Anne Jennings</l>
               <l>The Reverend Dr. Jowett</l>
               <l>Mr. Johnson</l>
               <l>Mrs. Johnson</l>
               <l>Mr. William Jones</l>
               <l>Mr. James Jones</l>
               <l>Thomas Irving, Esq. 3 copies</l>
               <l>Mr. William Justins</l>
               <l>Edward Ind, Esq.</l>
               <l>Robert Ind, Esq.</l>
               <l>James Johnson, Esq.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <head>K</head>
               <l>The Right Hon. Lord Kinnaird</l>
               <l>William Kendal, Esq.</l>
               <l>James Karr, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr. William Ketland</l>
               <l>Mr. Edward King</l>
               <l>Mr. Thomas Kingston</l>
               <l>The Reverend Dr. Kippis</l>
               <l>Mr. William Kitchener</l>
               <l>Mr. John Knight</l>
            </lg>
            <pb n="xiv" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pXIV.jpg"/>
            <lg>
               <head>L</head>
               <l>The Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of London</l>
               <l>Mr. John Laisne</l>
               <l>Mr. John Lamb</l>
               <l>Bennet Langton, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr. s. Lee</l>
               <l>Mr. Walter Lewis</l>
               <l>Mr. Walter Lewis, Jun.</l>
               <l>Mr. J. Lewis</l>
               <l>Mr. J. Lindsey</l>
               <l>Mr. T. Litchfield</l>
               <l>Edward Loveden Loveden, Esq. M. P.</l>
               <l>Charles Lloyd, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr. William Lloyd</l>
               <l>Mr. Samuel Lucas</l>
               <l>Mr. J. B. Lucas</l>
               <l>Mr. James Luken</l>
               <l>Henry Lyte, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mrs. Lyon</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <head>M</head>
               <l>His Grace the Duke of Marlborough</l>
               <l>His Grace the Duke of Montague</l>
               <l>The Right Hon. Lord Mulgrave</l>
               <l>Sir Herbert Mackworth, Bart.</l>
               <l>Sir Charles Middleton, Bart.</l>
               <l>Lady Middleton</l>
               <l>Mr. Thomas Macklane</l>
               <l>Mr. George Markett</l>
               <pb n="xv" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pXV.jpg"/>
               <l>James Martin, Esq. M. P.</l>
               <l>Master Martin, Hayes-Grove, Kent</l>
               <l>Mr. William Massey</l>
               <l>Mr. Joseph Massingham</l>
               <l>Mr. Matthews, 6 copies</l>
               <l>John M'Intosh, Esq.</l>
               <l>Paul Le Mesurier, Esq. M. P. 3 copies</l>
               <l>Mr. James Mewburn</l>
               <l>The Reverend H. Michell</l>
               <l>Mr. N. Middleton</l>
               <l>T. Mitchell, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mrs. Montague, 2 copies</l>
               <l>Miss Hannah More</l>
               <l>Mr. George Morrison</l>
               <l>Thomas Morris, Esq.</l>
               <l>Miss Morris</l>
               <l>Morris Morgann, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr Musgrove</l>
               <l>Mr. Thomas Musgrove</l>
               <l>Mr. P. M.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <head>N</head>
               <l>His Grace the Duke of Northumberland</l>
               <l>Henry Naylor, Esq.</l>
               <l>Francis Noble, Esq.</l>
               <l>Captain Norman, Royal Navy</l>
               <l>Captain Nurse</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <head>O</head>
               <l>Edward Ogle, Esq.</l>
               <l>James Ogle, Esq.</l>
               <pb n="xvi" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pXVI.jpg"/>
               <l>Robert Oliver, Esq.</l>
               <l>The Reverend Mr. J. Owen</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <head>P</head>
               <l>The Right Hon. William Pickett, Esq. Lord Mayor of London</l>
               <l>Mr. D. Parker</l>
               <l>Mr. W. Parker</l>
               <l>Mr. O Parry</l>
               <l>Mr. Richard Packer, Jun.</l>
               <l>The Reverend Dr Peckard of Cambridge</l>
               <l>Mr. James Pearse</l>
               <l>Mr. J. Pearson</l>
               <l>J. Penn, Esq.</l>
               <l>George Peters, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr. W. Phillips</l>
               <l>J. Phillips, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mrs. Pickard</l>
               <l>Mr. Charles Pilgrim</l>
               <l>The Hon. George Pitt, M. P.</l>
               <l>Mr. Thomas Pooley</l>
               <l>Patrick Power, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr. Michael Power</l>
               <l>Joseph Pratt, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr. Samuel Purle</l>
               <l>Mr. M. P.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <head>Q</head>
               <l>His Grace the Duke of Queensberry</l>
               <l>Robert Quarme, Esq.</l>
            </lg>
            <pb n="xvii" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pXVII.jpg"/>
            <lg>
               <head>R</head>
               <l>The Right Hon. Lord Rawdon</l>
               <l>The Right Hon. Lord Rivers, 2 copies</l>
               <l>Lieutenant General Rainsford</l>
               <l>Reverend James Ramsay, 3 copies</l>
               <l>Mr. S. Remnant, Jun.</l>
               <l>Mr. William Richards, 2 copies</l>
               <l>Mr. J. C. Robarts</l>
               <l>Mr. James Roberts</l>
               <l>Dr. Robinson</l>
               <l>Mr. Robinson</l>
               <l>Mr. C. Robinson</l>
               <l>Admiral Roddam</l>
               <l>George Rose, Esq. M. P.</l>
               <l>Mr. W. Ross</l>
               <l>Mr. William Rouse</l>
               <l>Mr. Walter Row</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <head>s</head>
               <l>His Grace the Duke of St. Albans</l>
               <l>Her Grace the Duchess of St. Albans</l>
               <l>The Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of St. David's</l>
               <l>The Right Hon. Earl Stanhope, 3 copies</l>
               <l>The Right Hon. the Earl of Scarbrough</l>
               <l>Mr Sampson</l>
               <l>William, the Son of Ignatius Sancho</l>
               <l>Mrs. Mary Ann Sandiford</l>
               <l>Mr. William Sawyer</l>
               <l>Mr. Thomas Seddon</l>
               <l>W. Seward, Esq.</l>
               <pb n="xviii" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pXVIII.jpg"/>
               <l>Reverend Mr. Thomas scott</l>
               <l>Granville Sharp, Esq. 2 copies</l>
               <l>Mr. Richard Shepherd</l>
               <l>Mr. William Shill</l>
               <l>Captain Sidney Smith, of the Royal Navy</l>
               <l>Colonel Simcoe</l>
               <l>Mr John Simco</l>
               <l>General Smith</l>
               <l>John Smith, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr. George Smith</l>
               <l>Mr. William Smith</l>
               <l>John James Smith</l>
               <l>Reverend Mr. Southgate</l>
               <l>Thomas Spalding</l>
               <l>John Spratt</l>
               <l>Mr. Charles Starkey</l>
               <l>Thomas Steel, Esq. M. P.</l>
               <l>Mr. Staples Steare</l>
               <l>Mr. Joseph Stewardson</l>
               <l>Mr. Henry Stone, Jun. 2 copies</l>
               <l>Mr. John Strickland</l>
               <l>John Symmons, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr. William Symonds</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <head>T</head>
               <l>Dr. Thackeray</l>
               <l>Henry Thornton, Esq. M. P.</l>
               <l>The Reverend Robert Thornton</l>
               <l>Mr. Abraham Thorp</l>
               <l>Alexander Thomson, M. D.</l>
               <l>The Reverend Mr. John Till</l>
               <l>Mr. Samuel Townly</l>
               <l>Mr. Daniel Trinder</l>
               <pb n="xix" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pXIX.jpg"/>
               <l>The Reverend Mr. C. La Trobe</l>
               <l>Clement Tudway, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mrs. Twisden</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <head>U</head>
               <l>Mr. M. Underwood</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <head>V</head>
               <l>Mr. John Vaughan</l>
               <l>Mrs. Vendt</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <head>W</head>
               <l>The Right Hon. Earl of Warwick</l>
               <l>The Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of Worcester</l>
               <l>The Hon. William Windham, Esq. M. P.</l>
               <l>Mr. C. B. Wadstrom</l>
               <l>Mr. George Walne</l>
               <l>The Reverend Mr. Ward</l>
               <l>Mr. S. Warren</l>
               <l>Mr. J. Waugh</l>
               <l>Josiah Wedgwood, Esq.</l>
               <l>The Reverend Mr. John Wesley</l>
               <l>Mr. J. Wheble</l>
               <l>Samuel Whitbread, Esq. M P.</l>
               <l>The Reverend Mr. Thomas Wigzell</l>
               <l>Mr. W. Wilson</l>
               <l>The Reverend Mr. Wills</l>
               <l>Mr. Thomas Wimsett</l>
               <l>Mr. William Winchester</l>
               <l>The Reverend Elhanan Winchester, 6 copies</l>
               <pb n="xx" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pXX.jpg"/>
               <l>John Wollaston, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr. Charles Wood</l>
               <l>Mr. Joseph Woods</l>
               <l>Mr. John Wood</l>
               <l>J. Wright, Esq.</l>
               <l>Mr. William Watson</l>
               <l>Mr. James Welch</l>
               <l>Mrs. Willmott</l>
               <l>Mr. George Wille</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <head>Y</head>
               <l>Mr. Yeo</l>
               <l>Mr. Samuel Yockney</l>
               <l>Mr. Thomos Young</l>
            </lg>
         </div>
         <div type="errata">
            <pb n="xxi" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pXXI.jpg"/>
            <head>ERRATA.</head>
            <lg>
               <l>VOL. I. Page 4, line 15, for intertior read <hi rend="italic">interior</hi>
               </l>
               <l>VOL. I. Page 206, line 19, for ptostitute read <hi rend="italic">prostitute</hi>
               </l>
               <l>VOL. I. Page 259, line 6, for him read <hi rend="italic">me.</hi>
               </l>
            </lg>
         </div>
         <div type="table_of_contents">
            <pb n="xxii" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pXXII.jpg"/>
            <head>CONTENTS<lb/> OF<lb/> VOLUME I.</head>
            <lg>
               <l>CHAP. I. <hi rend="italic">The author's account of his country, their manners and
                     customs, &amp;c.</hi> — Page 1</l>
               <l>CHAP. II. <hi rend="italic">The author's birth and parentage—His being kidnapped
                     with his sister—Horrors of a slave ship</hi> — Page 45</l>
               <l>CHAP. III. <hi rend="italic">The author is carried to Virginia—Arrives in
                     England—His wonder at a fall of snow</hi> — Page 89</l>
               <pb n="xxiii" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-pXXIII.jpg"/>
               <l> CHAP. IV. <hi rend="italic">A particular account of the celebrated engagement
                     between Admiral Boscawen and Monsieur Le Clue</hi> — Page 130</l>
               <l>CHAP. V. <hi rend="italic">Various interesting instances of oppression, cruelty,
                     and extortion</hi> — Page 180</l>
               <l>CHAP. VI. <hi rend="italic">Favourable change in the author's situation—He
                     commences merchant with threepence</hi> — Page 227</l>
            </lg>
         </div>
      </front>
      <body>
         <div type="volume" n="1">
            <pb n="1" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p1.jpg"/>
            <head type="title">
 THE LIFE, &amp;c.</head>
            <div n="1" type="chapter">
               <head>CHAPTER I.</head>
               
                  <p>
                     <hi rend="italic">The author's account of his country, and their manners and
                        customs, Administration of Justice—Embrenché—Marriage ceremony, and public
                        entertainments—Mode of living—Dress—Manufactures
                        Buildings—Commerce—Agriculture—War and religion—Superstition of the
                        natives—Funeral ceremonies of the priests or magicians—Curious mode of
                        discovering poison—some hints concerning the origin of the author's
                        countrymen, with the opinions of different writers
                        on that subject.</hi>
                  </p>
               
               <p>I BELIEVE it is difficult for those who publish their own memoirs to escape the
                  imputation of vanity; nor is this <pb n="2" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p2.jpg"/> the only disadvantage under which they labour: it is also their misfortune,
                  that what is uncommon is rarely, if ever, believed, and what is obvious we are apt
                  to turn from with disgust, and to charge the writer with impertinence. People
                  generally think those memoirs only worthy to be read or remembered which abound in
                  great or striking events; those, in short, which in a high degree excite either
                  admiration or pity: all others they consign to contempt and oblivion. It is
                  therefore, I confess, not a little hazardous in a private and obscure individual,
                  and a stranger too, thus to solicit the indulgent attention of the public;
                  especially when I own I offer here the history of neither a saint, a hero, nor a
                  tyrant. I believe there are a few events in my life, which have not happened to
                  many: it is true the incidents of it are numerous; and, did I consider myself an
                  European, <pb n="3" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p3.jpg"/> I might say my
                  sufferings were great: but when I compare my lot with that of most of my
                  countrymen, I regard myself as a <hi rend="italic">particular favourite of
                     Heaven,</hi> and acknowledge the mercies of Providence in every occurrence of
                  my life. If then the following narrative does not appear sufficiently interesting
                  to engage general attention, let my motive be some excuse for its publication. I
                  am not so foolishly vain as to expect from it either immortality or literary
                  reputation. If it affords any satisfaction to my numerous friends, at whose
                  request it has been written, or in the smallest degree promotes the interests of
                  humanity, the ends for which it was undertaken will be fully attained, and every
                  wish of my heart gratified. Let it therefore be remembered, that, in wishing to
                  avoid censure, I do not aspire to praise.</p>
               <p>
                  <pb n="4" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p4.jpg"/> That part of Africa, known by
                  the name of Guinea, to which the trade for slaves is carried on, extends along the
                  coast above 3400 miles, from Senegal to Angola, and includes a variety of
                  kingdoms. Of these the most considerable is the kingdom of <ref target="benin_" corresp="benin">Benin</ref>, both as to extent and wealth, the richness and
                  cultivation of the soil, the power of its king, and the number and warlike
                  disposition of the inhabitants. It is situated nearly under the line, and extends
                  along the coast about 170 miles, but runs back into the interior part of Africa to
                  a distance hitherto I believe unexplored by any traveller; and seems only
                  terminated at length by the empire of Abyssinia, near 1500 miles from its
                  beginning. This kingdom is divided into many provinces or districts: in one of the
                  most remote and fertile of which, <pb n="5" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p5.jpg"/> I was born, in the year 1745, situated in a charming fruitful vale, named
                  Essaka. The distance of this province from the capital of Benin and the sea coast
                  must be very considerable; for I had never heard of white men or Europeans, nor of
                  the sea; and our subjection to the king of Benin was little more than nominal; for
                  every transaction of the government, as far as my slender observation extended,
                  was conducted by the chiefs or elders of the place. The manners and government of
                  a people who have little commerce with other countries are generally very simple;
                  and the history of what passes in one family or village, may serve as a specimen
                  of the whole nation. My father was one of those elders or chiefs I have spoken of,
                  and was styled Embrenché; a term, as I remember, importing the highest
                  distinction, and <pb n="6" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p6.jpg"/> signifying in
                  our language a <hi rend="italic">mark</hi> of grandeur. This mark is conferred on
                  the person entitled to it, by cutting the skin across at the top of the forehead,
                  and drawing it down to the eye-brows; and while it is in this situation applying a
                  warm hand, and rubbing it until it shrinks up into a thick <hi rend="italic">weal</hi> across the lower part of the forehead. Most of the judges and
                  senators were thus marked; my father had long borne it: I had seen it conferred on
                  one of my brothers, and I also was <hi rend="italic">destined</hi> to receive it
                  by my parents. Those Embrenché or chief men, decided disputes and punished crimes;
                  for which purpose they always assembled together. The proceedings were generally
                  short; and in most cases the law of retaliation prevailed. I remember a man was
                  brought before my father, and the other judges, for kidnapping a boy; <pb n="7" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p7.jpg"/> and, although he was the son of a chief
                  or senator, he was condemned to make recompense by a man or woman slave. Adultery,
                  however, was sometimes punished with slavery or death; a punishment which I
                  believe is inflicted on it throughout most of the nations of Africa*: so sacred
                  among them is the honour of the marriage bed, and so jealous are they of the
                  fidelity of their wives. Of this I recollect an instance—-a woman was convicted
                  before the judges of adultery, and delivered over, as the custom was, to her
                  husband to be punished. Accordingly he determined to put her to death: but it
                  being found, just before her execution, that she had an infant at her breast; and
                  no woman being prevailed on to perform the part of a nurse, she was spared on
                     <note type="footnote">
                                    <p> * See Benezet's "Account of Guinea" throughout.
                        [Equiano's note]</p>
                                </note>
                  <pb n="8" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p8.jpg"/> account of the child. The men,
                  however, do not preserve the same constancy to their wives, which they expect from
                  them; for they indulge in a plurality, though seldom in more than two. Their mode
                  of marriage is thus:—both parties are usually betrothed when young by their
                  parents, (though I have known the males to betroth themselves). On this occasion a
                  feast is prepared, and the bride and bridegroom stand up in the midst of all their
                  friends, who are assembled for the purpose, while he declares she is thenceforth
                  to be looked upon as his wife, and that no other person is to pay any addresses to
                  her. This is also immediately proclaimed in the vicinity, on which the bride
                  retires from the assembly. Some time after she is brought home to her husband, and
                  then another feast is made, to which <pb n="9" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p9.jpg"/> the relations of both parties are
                  invited: her parents then deliver her to the bridegroom, accompanied with a number
                  of blessings, and at the same time they tie round her waist a cotton string of the
                  thickness of a goose-quill, which none but married women are permitted to wear:
                  she is now considered as completely his wife; and at this time the dowry is given
                  to the new married pair, which generally consists of portions of land, slaves, and
                  cattle, household goods, and implements of husbandry. These are offered by the
                  friends of both parties; besides which the parents of the bridegroom present gifts
                  to those of the bride, whose property she is looked upon before marriage; but
                  after it she is esteemed the sole property of her husband. The ceremony being now
                  ended the festival begins, which is <pb n="10" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p10.jpg"/> celebrated with bonfires, and loud
                  acclamations of joy, accompanied with music and dancing.</p>
               <p>We are almost a nation of dancers, musicians, and poets. Thus every great event,
                  such as a triumphant return from battle, or other cause of public rejoicing is
                  celebrated in public dances which are accompanied with songs and music suited to
                  the occasion. The assembly is seperated into four divisions, which dance either
                  apart or in succession, and each with a character peculiar to itself. The first
                  division contains the married men, who in their dances frequently exhibit feats of
                  arms, and the representation of a battle. To these succeed the married women, who
                  dance in the second division. The young men accupy the third: and the maidens the
                  fourth. Each represents some interesting scene <pb n="11" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p11.jpg"/> of real life, such as a great
                  achievement, domestic employment, a pathetic story, or some rural sport; and as
                  the subject is generally founded on some recent event, it is therefore ever new.
                  This gives our dances a spirit and variety which I have scarcely seen elsewhere*.
                  We have many musical instruments, particularly drums of different kinds, a piece
                  of music which resembles a guitar, and another much like a stickado. These last
                  are chiefly used by betrothed virgins, who play on them on all grand
                  festivals.</p>
               <p>As our manners are simple, our luxuries are few. The dress of both sexes is nearly
                  the same. It generally consists of a long piece of calico, or muslin, wrapped
                  loosely round the body, somewhat in the form of a <note type="footnote">
                                    <p>* When
                        I was in Smyrna I have frequently seen the Greeks dance after this manner.
                        [Equiano's note]</p>
                                </note>
                  <pb n="12" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p12.jpg"/> highland plaid. This is
                  usually dyed blue, which is our <ref target="purple_" corresp="purple">favorite
                     colour.</ref> It is extracted from a berry, and is brighter and richer than any
                  I have seen in Europe. Besides this, our women of distinction wear golden
                  ornaments, which they dispose with some profusion on their arms and legs. When our
                  women are not employed with the men in tillage, their usual occupation is spinning
                  and weaving cotton, which they afterwards dye, and make into garments. They also
                  manufacture earthen vessels, of which we have many kinds. Among the rest tobacco
                  pipes, made after the same fashion, and used in the same manner, as those in
                  Turkey*.</p>
               <p>Our manner of living is entirely plain; for as yet the natives are unacquainted
                     <note type="footnote">
                                    <p>* The bowl is earthen, curiously figured, to which a
                        long reed is fixed as a tube. This tube is sometimes so long as to be borne
                        by one, and frequently out of grandeur, by two boys. [Equiano's
                     note]</p>
                                </note>
                  <pb n="13" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p13.jpg"/> with those refinements in
                  cookery which debauch the taste: bullocks, goats, and poultry, supply the greatest
                  part of their food. These constitute likewise the principal wealth of the country,
                  and the chief articles of its commerce. The flesh is usually stewed in a pan; to
                  make it savoury we sometimes use also pepper, and other spices, and we have salt
                  made of wood ashes. Our vegetables are mostly plantains, eadas, yams, beans, and
                  Indian corn. The head of the family usually eats alone; his wives and slaves have
                  also their separate tables. Before we taste food we always wash our hands: indeed
                  our cleanliness on all occasions is extreme; but on this it is an indispensible
                  ceremony. After washing, libation is made, by pouring out a small portion of the
                  drink on the floor, and tossing a small quantity of the food <pb n="14" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p14.jpg"/> in a certain place, for the spirits of
                  departed relations, which the natives suppose to preside over their conduct, and
                  guard them from evil. They are totally unacquainted with strong or spirituous
                  liquors; and their principal beverage is palm wine. This is got from a tree of
                  that name, by tapping it at the top, and fastening a large gourd to it; and
                  sometimes one tree will yield three or four gallons in a night. When just drawn it
                  is of a most delicious sweetness; but in a few days it acquires a tartish and more
                  spirituous flavour: though I never saw any one intoxicated by it. The same tree
                  also produces nuts and oil. Our principal luxury is in perfumes; one sort of these
                  is an odoriferous wood of delicious fragrance: the other a kind of earth; a small
                  portion of which thrown <pb n="15" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p15.jpg"/> into
                  the fire diffuses a most powerful odour.* We beat this wood into powder, and mix it
                  with palm oil; with which both men and women perfume themselves.</p>
               <p>In our buildings we study convenience rather than ornament. Each master of a
                  family has a large square piece of ground, surrounded with a moat or fence, or
                  enclosed with a wall made of red earth tempered: which, when dry, is as hard as
                  brick. Within this are his houses to accommodate his family and slaves; which, if
                  numerous, frequently present the appearance of a village. In the middle stands the
                  principal building, appropriated to the sole use of the master, and consisting
                     <note type="footnote">
                                    <p>* When I was in Smyrna I saw the same kind of earth,
                        and brought some of it with me to England; it resembles musk in strength,
                        but is more delicious in scent, and is not unlike the smell of a rose.
                        [Equiano's note.]</p>
                                </note>
                                <pb n="16" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p16.jpg"/> of two apartments; in one of which he
                  sits in the day with his family, the other is left apart for the reception of his
                  friends. He has besides these a distinct apartment in which he sleeps, <ref target="spartan_" corresp="spartan">together with his male children</ref>. On
                  each side are the apartments of his wives, who have also their separate day and
                  night houses. The habitations of the slaves and their families are distributed
                  throughout the rest of the enclosure. These houses never exceed one story in
                  height: they are always built of wood, or stakes driven into the ground, crossed
                  with wattles, and neatly plastered within and without. The roof is thatched with
                  reeds. Our dayhouses are left open at the sides; but those in which we sleep are
                  always covered, and plastered in the inside, with a composition mixed with cow
                  dung, to keep off the different insects, <pb n="17" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p17.jpg"/> which annoy us during the night. The
                  walls and floors also of these are generally covered with mats. Our beds consist
                  of a platform, raised three or four feet from the ground, on which are laid skins,
                  and different parts of a spungy tree called plantain. Our covering is calico or
                  muslin, the same as our dress. The usual seats are a few logs of wood; but we have
                  benches, which are generally perfumed, to accommodate strangers: these compose the
                  greater part of our household furniture. Houses so constructed and furnished
                  require but little skill to erect them. Every man is a sufficient architect for
                  the purpose. The whole neighbourhood afford their unanimous assistance in building
                  them, and in return receive, and expect no other recompense than a feast.</p>
               <p>As we live in a country where nature <pb n="18" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p18.jpg"/> is prodigal of her favours, our wants
                  are few and easily supplied; of course we have few manufactures. They consist for
                  the most part of calicoes, earthen ware, ornaments, and instruments of war and
                  husbandry. But these make no part of our commerce, the principal articles of
                  which, as I have observed, are provisions. In such a state, money is of little
                  use; however we have some small pieces of coin, if I may call them such. They are
                  made something like an anchor; but I do not remember either their value or
                  denomination. We have also markets, at which I have been frequently with my
                  mother. These are sometimes visited by stout mahogany-coloured men from the south
                  west of us: we call them <hi rend="italic">Oye-Eboe,</hi> which term signifies red
                  men living at a distance. They generally bring us fire-arms, gunpowder, <pb n="19" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p19.jpg"/> hats, beads, and dried fish. The last
                  we esteemed a great rarity, as our waters were only brooks and springs. These
                  articles they barter with us for odoriferous woods and earth, and our salt of wood
                  ashes. They always carry slaves through our land; but the strictest account is
                  exacted of their manner of procuring them before they are suffered to pass.
                  Sometimes indeed we sold slaves to them, but they were only prisoners of war, or
                  such among us as had been convicted of kidnapping, or adultery, and some other
                  crimes, which we esteemed heinous. This practice of kidnapping induces me to
                  think, that, notwithstanding all our strictness, their principal business among us
                  was to trepan our people. I remember too they carried great sacks along with them,
                  which not long after I had an <pb n="20" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p20.jpg"/>
                  opportunity of fatally seeing applied to that infamous purpose.</p>
               <p>Our land is uncommonly rich and fruitful, and produces all kinds of vegetables in
                  great abundance. We have plenty of Indian corn, and vast quantities of cotton and
                  tobacco. Our pine apples grow without culture; they are about the size of the
                  largest sugar-loaf, and finely flavoured. We have also spices of different kinds,
                  particularly pepper; and a variety of delicious fruits which I have never seen in
                  Europe; together with gums of various kinds, and honey in abundance. All our
                  industry is exerted to improve those blessings of nature. Agriculture is our chief
                  employment; and <ref target="agriculture_" corresp="agriculture">every one,</ref>
                  even the children and women, are engaged in it. Thus we are all habituated to
                  labour from our earliest years. Every one contributes something to the common <pb n="21" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p21.jpg"/> stock; and as we are
                  unacquainted with idleness, we have no beggars. The benefits of such a mode of
                  living are obvious. The West India planters prefer the slaves of Benin or Eboe, to
                  those of any other part of Guinea, <ref target="hardiness_" corresp="hardiness">for their hardiness, intelligence, integrity, and zeal</ref>. Those benefits
                  are felt by us in the general healthiness of the people, and in their vigour and
                  activity; I might have added too in their comeliness. Deformity is indeed unknown
                  amongst us, I mean that of shape. Numbers of the natives of Eboe now in London,
                  might be brought in support of this assertion: for, in regard to complexion, ideas
                  of beauty are wholly relative. I remember while in Africa to have seen three negro
                  children, who were tawny, and another quite white, who were universally regarded
                  by myself, and the natives in <pb n="22" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p22.jpg"/>
                  general, as far as related to their complexions, as deformed. Our women too were
                  in my eyes at least uncommonly graceful, alert, and modest to a degree of
                  bashfulness; nor do I remember to have ever heard of an instance of incontinence
                  amongst them before marriage. They are also remarkably cheerful. Indeed
                  cheerfulness and affability are two of the leading characteristics of our
                  nation.</p>
               <p>Our tillage is exercised in a large plain or common, some hours walk from our
                  dwellings, and all the neighbours resort thither in a body. They use no beasts of
                  husbandry; and their only instruments are hoes, axes, shovels, and beaks, or
                  pointed iron to dig with. Sometimes we are visited by locusts, which come in large
                  clouds, so as to darken the air, and destroy our harvest. This however happens
                  rarely, but when <pb n="23" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p23.jpg"/> it does, a
                  famine is produced by it. I remember an instance or two wherein this happened.
                  This common is often the theatre of war; and therefore when our people go out to
                  till their land, they not only go in a body, but generally take their arms with
                  them for fear of a surprise; and when they apprehend an invasion, they guard the
                  avenues to their dwellings, by driving sticks into the ground, which are so sharp
                  at one end as to pierce the foot, and are generally dipped in poison. From what I
                  can recollect of these battles, they appear to have been irruptions of one little
                  state or district on the other, to obtain prisoners or booty. Perhaps they were
                  incited to this by those traders who brought the European goods I mentioned
                  amongst us. Such a mode of obtaining slaves in Africa is common; and I believe
                  more <pb n="24" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p24.jpg"/> are procured this way,
                  and by kidnaping, than any other. When a trader wants slaves, he applies to a
                  chief for them, and tempts him with his wares. It is not extraordinary, if on this
                  occasion he yields to the temptation with as little firmness, and accepts the
                  price of his fellow creatures liberty with as little reluctance as the enlightened
                  merchant. Accordingly he falls on his neighbours, and a desperate battle ensues.
                  If he prevails and takes prisoners, he gratifies his avarice by selling them; but,
                  if his party be vanquished, and he falls into the hands of the enemy, he is put to
                  death: for, as he has been known to foment their quarrels, it is thought dangerous
                  to let him survive, and no ransom can save him, though all other prisoners may be
                  redeemed. We have firearms, bows and arrows, broad two-edged <note type="footnote">
                                    <p>* See Benezet's Account of Africa throughout. [Equiano's
                     note.]</p>
                                </note>
                  <pb n="25" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p25.jpg"/> swords and javelins: we have
                  shields also which cover a man from head to foot. All are taught the use of these
                  weapons; even our women are warriors, and march boldly out to fight along with the
                  men. Our whole district is a kind of militia: on a certain signal given, such as
                  the firing of a gun at night, they all rise in arms and rush upon their enemy. It
                  is perhaps something remarkable, that when our people march to the field a red
                  flag or banner is borne before them. I was once a witness to a battle in our
                  common. We had been all at work in it one day as usual, when our people were
                  suddenly attacked. I climbed a tree at some distance, from which I beheld the
                  sight. There were many women as well as men on both sides; among others my mother
                  was there, and armed with a broad sword. After <pb n="26" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p26.jpg"/> fighting for a considerable time with
                  great fury, and many had been killed, our people obtained the victory, and took
                  their enemy's Chief prisoner. He was carried off in great triumph, and, though he
                  offered a large ransom for his life, he was put to death. A virgin of note among
                  our enemies had been slain in the battle, and her <ref target="trophy_" corresp="trophy">arm was exposed in our market-place</ref>, where our trophies
                  were always exhibited. The spoils were divided according to the merit of the
                  warriors. Those prisoners which were not sold or redeemed we kept as slaves: but
                  how different was their condition from that of the slaves in the West Indies! With
                  us they do no more work than other members of the community, even their master;
                  their food, clothing and lodging were nearly the same as theirs, (except that they
                  were not permitted <pb n="27" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p27.jpg"/> to eat with
                  those who were free-born); and there was scarce any other difference between them,
                  than a superior degree of importance which the head of a family possesses in our
                  state, and that authority which, as such, he exercises over every part of his
                  household. some of these slaves have even slaves under them as their own property,
                  and for their own use.</p>
               <p>As to religion, the natives believe that there is one Creator of all things, and
                  that he lives in the sun, and is girted round with a belt that he may never eat or
                  drink; but, according to some, he smokes a pipe, which is our own favourite
                  luxury. They believe he governs events, especially our deaths or captivity; but,
                  as for the doctrine of eternity, I do not remember to have ever heard of it: some
                  however believe in the transmigration of souls in <pb n="28" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p28.jpg"/> a certain degree. Those spirits, which
                  are not transmigrated, such as their dear friends or relations, they believe
                  always attend them, and guard them from the bad spirits or their foes. For this
                  reason they always before eating, as I have observed, put some small portion of
                  the meat, and pour some of their drink, on the ground for them; and they often
                  make <ref target="oblation_" corresp="oblation">oblation</ref> of the blood of
                  beasts or fowls at their graves. I was very fond of my mother, and almost
                  constantly with her. When she went to make these <ref target="oblation2_" corresp="oblation2">oblations</ref> at her mother's tomb, which was a kind of
                  small solitary thatched house, I sometimes attended her. There she made her
                  libations, and spent most of the night in cries and lamentations. I have been
                  often extremely terrified on these occasions. The loneliness of the place, the
                  darkness of the night, and the ceremony <pb n="29" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p29.jpg"/> of libation, naturally awful and
                  gloomy, were heightened by my mother's lamentations; and these concurring with the
                  doleful cries of birds, by which these places were frequented, gave an
                  inexpressible terror to the scene.</p>
               <p>We compute the year from the day on which the sun crosses the line, and on its
                  setting that evening, there is a general shout throughout the land; at least I can
                  speak from my own knowledge, throughout our vicinity. The people at the same time
                  make a great noise with rattles, not unlike the basket rattles used by children
                  here, though much larger, and hold up their hands to heaven for a blessing. It is
                  then the greatest offerings are made; and those children whom our wise men foretel
                  will be fortunate are then presented to different people. I remember <pb n="30" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p30.jpg"/> many used to come to see me, and I was
                  carried about to others for that purpose. They have many offerings, particularly
                  at full moons; generally two at harvest before the fruits are taken out of the
                  ground: and when any young animals are killed, sometimes they offer up part of
                  them as a sacrifice. These offerings, when made by one of the heads of a family,
                  serve for the whole. I remember we often had them at my father's and my uncle's,
                  and their families have been present. Some of our offerings are eaten with bitter
                  herbs. We had a saying among us to any one of a cross temper, <quote>'That if they
                     were to be eaten, they should be eaten with bitter herbs.'</quote>
               </p>
               <p>We practised circumcision like the Jews, and made offerings and feasts on that
                  occasion in the same manner as they did. Like them also, our <pb n="31" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p31.jpg"/> children were named from some event,
                  some circumstance, or fancied foreboding at the time of their birth. I was named
                     <hi rend="italic">Olaudah,</hi> which, in our language, signifies vicissitude,
                  or fortunate also; one favoured, and having a loud voice and well spoken. I
                  remember we never polluted the name of the object of our adoration; on the
                  contrary, it was always mentioned with the greatest reverence; and we were totally
                  unacquainted with swearing, and all those terms of abuse and reproach which find
                  their way so readily and copiously into the language of more civilized people. The
                  only expressions of that kind I remember were, <quote>'May you rot, or may you
                     swell, or may a beast take you.'</quote>
               </p>
               <p>I have before remarked that the natives of this part of Africa are extremely
                  cleanly. This necessary habit <pb n="32" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p32.jpg"/>
                  of decency was with us a part of religion, and therefore we had many purifications
                  and washings; indeed almost as many, and used on the same occasions, if my
                  recollection does not fail me, as the <ref target="jews_" corresp="jews">Jews</ref>. Those that touched the dead at any time were obliged to wash and
                  purify themselves before they could enter a dwelling-house. Every woman too, at
                  certain times, was forbidden to come into a dwelling-house, or touch any person,
                  or any thing we eat. I was so fond of my mother I could not keep from her, or
                  avoid touching her at some of those periods, in consequence of which I was obliged
                  to be kept out with her, in a little house made for that purpose, till offering
                  was made, and then we were purified.</p>
               <p>Though we had no places of public worship, we had priests and magicians, or wise
                  men. I do not remember <pb n="33" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p33.jpg"/> whether
                  they had different offices, or whether they were united in the same persons, but
                  they were held in great reverence by the people. They calculated our time, and
                  foretold events, as their name imported, for we called them Ah-affoe-way-cah,
                  which signifies calculators or yearly men, our year being called Ah-affoe. They
                  wore their beards, and when they died they were suceeded by their sons. Most of
                  their implements and things of value were interred along with them. Pipes and
                  tobacco were also put into the grave with the corpse, which was always perfumed
                  and ornamented, and animals were offered in sacrifice to them. None accompanied
                  their funerals but those of the same profession or tribe. These buried them after
                  sunset, and always returned from the grave by <pb n="34" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p34.jpg"/> a different way from that which they
                  went.</p>
               <p>These magicians were also our doctors or physicians. They practised bleeding by
                  cupping; and were very successful in healing wounds and expelling poisons. They
                  had likewise some extraordinary method of discovering jealousy, theft, and
                  poisoning; the success of which no doubt they derived from the unbounded influence
                  over the credulity and superstition of the people. I do not remember what those
                  methods were, except that as to poisoning: I recollect an instance or two, which I
                  hope it will not be deemed impertinent here to insert, as it may serve as a kind
                  of specimen of the rest, and is still used by the negroes in the West Indies. A
                  young woman had been poisoned, but it was not known by whom: the doctor ordered
                  the corpse to be taken up by <pb n="35" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p35.jpg"/>
                  some persons, and carried to the grave. As soon as the bearers had raised it on
                  their shoulders, they seemed seized with <ref target="impulse_" corresp="impulse">some* sudden impulse,</ref>
                                <note xml:id="impulse" target="impulse_">See also Leiut. Matthew's Voyage, p. 123. [Equiano's note] Equiano is referring to John Matthews, <ref target="https://www.google.com/books/edition/A_Voyage_to_the_River_Sierra_Leone/j9sTAAAAYAAJ?hl=en">
                                        <hi rend="italic">A Voyage to the River Sierra-Leone</hi>
                                    </ref> (London: B. White and Son; and J. Sewell, 1788).</note> and ran to and fro
                  unable to stop themselves. At last, after having passed through a number of thorns
                  and prickly bushes unhurt, the corpse fell from them close to a house, and defaced
                  it in the fall; and the owner being taken up, he immediately confessed the
                  <ref target="poisoning_" corresp="poisoning">poisoning.†</ref>
                                <note xml:id="poisoning" target="poisoning_"> An instance of this                       kind happened at Montserrat in the West Indies in the year 1763. I then belonged to the Charming
                     Sally, Capt. Doran.—The chief mate, Mr. Mansfield, and some of the crew being
                     one day on shore, were present at the burying of a poisoned negro girl. Though
                     they had often heard of the circumstance of the running in such cases, and had
                     even seen it, they imagined it to be a trick of the corpse-bearers. The mate
                     therefore desired two of the sailors to take up the coffin, and carry it to the
                     grave. The sailors, who were all of the same opinion, readily obeyed; but they
                     had scarcely raised it to their shoulders, before they began to run
                     furiously about, quite unable to direct
                     themselves, till, at last, without intention, they came to the hut of him
                     who had poisoned the girl. The coffin then immediately fell from their
                     shoulders against the hut, and damaged part of the wall. The owner of the
                     hut was taken into custody on this, and confessed the poisoning.— I give this
                     story as it was related by the mate and crew on their return to the ship.
                     The credit which is due to it I leave with the reader. [Equiano's
                     note]</note>
                            </p>
               <pb n="36" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p36.jpg"/>
               <p>The natives are extremely cautious about poison. When they buy any eatable the
                  seller kisses it all round before the buyer, to shew him it is not poisoned; and
                  the same is done when any meat or drink is presented, particularly to a stranger.
                  We have serpents of different kinds, some of which are esteemed ominous when they
                  appear in our houses, and these we never molest. I remember two of those ominous
                  snakes, each of which was as thick as the calf of a man's leg, and in colour
                  resembling a dolphin in the water, crept at different times into my 
                  <pb n="37" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p37.jpg"/> mother's night-house, where I
                  always lay with her, and coiled themselves into folds, and each time they crowed
                  like a cock. I was desired by some of our wise men to touch these, that I might be
                  interested in the good omens, which I did, for they were quite harmless, and would
                  tamely suffer themselves to be handled; and then they were put into a large open
                  earthen pan, and set on one side of the highway. Some of our snakes, however, were
                  poisonous: one of them crossed the road one day as I was standing on it, and
                  passed between my feet without offering to touch me, to the great surprise of many
                  who saw it; and these incidents were accounted by the wise men, and likewise by my
                  mother and the rest of the people, as remarkable omens in my favour.</p>
               <p>Such is the imperfect sketch my <pb n="38" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p38.jpg"/> memory has furnished me with of the manners and customs of a people among whom
                  I first drew my breath. And here I cannot forbear suggesting what has long struck
                  me very forcibly, namely, the strong analogy which even by this sketch, imperfect
                  as it is, appears to prevail in the manners and customs of my countrymen and those
                  of the Jews, before they reached the Land of Promise, and particularly the
                  patriarchs while they were yet in that pastoral state which is described in
                  Genesis—an analogy, which alone would induce me to think that the one people had
                  sprung from the other. Indeed this is the opinion of <ref target="gill_" corresp="gill">Dr. Gill</ref>, who, in his commentary on Genesis, very ably
                  deduces the pedigree of the Africans from <ref target="afer_" corresp="afer">Afer
                     and Afra</ref>, the descendants of Abraham by Keturah his wife and concubine
                  (for both these titles are <pb n="39" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p39.jpg"/>
                  applied to her). It is also conformable to the sentiments of Dr. John Clarke,
                  formerly Dean of Sarum, in his Truth of the Christian Religion: both these authors
                  concur in ascribing to us this original. The reasonings of those gentlemen are
                  still further confirmed by the scripture chronology; and if any further
                  corroboration were required, this resemblance in so many respects is a strong
                  evidence in support of the opinion. Like the Israelites in their primitive state,
                  our government was conducted by our chiefs or judges, our wise men and elders; and
                  the head of a family with us enjoyed a similar authority over his household with
                  that which is ascribed to Abraham and the other patriarchs. The law of retaliation
                  obtained almost universally with us as with them: and even their religion appeared
                  to have shed upon us a ray of <pb n="40" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p40.jpg"/>
                  its glory, though broken and spent in its passage, or eclipsed by the cloud with
                  which time, tradition, and ignorance might have enveloped it; for we had our
                  circumcision (a rule I believe peculiar to that people:) we had also our
                  sacrifices and burnt-offerings, our washings and purifications, on the same
                  occasions as they had.</p>
               <p>As to the difference of colour between the Eboan Africans and the modern Jews, I
                  shall not presume to account for it. It is a subject which has engaged the pens of
                  men of both genius and learning, and is far above my strength. The most able and
                     <ref target="clarkson_" corresp="clarkson">Reverend Mr. T. Clarkson</ref>,
                  however, in his much admired Essay on the Slavery and Commerce of the Human
                  Species, has ascertained the cause in a manner that at once solves every objection
                  on that account, and, on my mind at least, <pb n="41" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p41.jpg"/> has produced the fullest conviction. I
                  shall therefore refer to that performance for the <ref target="theory_" corresp="theory">theory*</ref>
                                <note xml:id="theory" target="theory_">* Page 178 to 216. [Equiano's
                     note]</note>, contenting myself with
                  extricating a fact as related by <ref target="Mitchel_" corresp="Mitchel">Dr. Mitchel†.</ref>
                                <note xml:id="Mitchel" target="Mitchel_">† Philos. Trans. No. 476, Sect. 4, cited by Mr
                     Clarkson, p. 205. [Equiano's note] </note> "The Spaniards, who have
                     inhabited America, under the torrid zone, for any time, are become as dark
                     coloured as our native Indians of Virginia; of which "<hi rend="italic">I myself
                        have been a witness.</hi>" There is also another <ref target="instance_" corresp="instance">instance‡</ref>
                                <note xml:id="instance" target="instance_">‡ Same page. [Equiano's note]</note> of a
                  Portuguese settlement at Mitomba, a river in Sierra Leona; where the inhabitants
                  are bred from a mixture of the first Portuguese discoverers with the natives, and
                  are now become in their complexion, and in the woolly quality of their 
                  <pb n="42" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p42.jpg"/> hair, <hi rend="italic">perfect negroes,</hi> retaining however a smattering of the Portuguese
                  language.</p>
               <p>These instances, and a great many more which might be adduced, while they shew how
                  the complexions of the same persons vary in different climates it is hoped may
                  tend also to remove the prejudice that some conceive against the natives of Africa
                  on account of their colour. Surely the minds of the Spaniards did not change with
                  their complexions! Are there not causes enough to which the apparent inferiority
                  of an African may be ascribed without limiting the goodness of God and supposing
                  he forbore to stamp understanding on certainly his own image because "carved in ebony." Might it not naturally be ascribed to
                  their situation? When they come among Europeans, they are ignorant of their <pb n="43" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p43.jpg"/> language, religion, manners,
                  and customs. Are any pains taken to teach them these? Are they treated as men?
                  Does not slavery itself depress the mind, and extinguish all its fire and every
                  noble sentiment? But, above all, what advantages do not a refined people possess
                  over those who are rude and uncultivated. Let the polished and haughty European
                  recollect that <hi rend="italic">his</hi> ancestors were once, like the Africans,
                  uncivilized, and even barbarous. Did Nature make <hi rend="italic">them</hi>
                  inferior to their sons? and should <hi rend="italic">they too</hi> have been made
                  slaves? Every rational mind answers, No. Let such reflections as these melt the
                  pride of their superiority into sympathy for the wants and miseries of their <ref target="sable_" corresp="sable">sable</ref> brethren, and compel them to
                  acknowledge, that understanding is not confined to feature or colour. If, when
                  they look round the <pb n="44" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p44.jpg"/> world,
                  they feel exultation, let it be tempered with benevolence to others, and gratitude
                  to God, "who hath made of one blood all nations of
                  men for to dwell on all the face of the <ref target="earth_" corresp="earth">earth*</ref>
                                <note xml:id="earth" target="earth_">* Acts xvii. 26. [Equiano's note]</note>; and whose wisdom is not our
                     wisdom, neither are our ways his ways."
               </p>
            </div>
            <div n="2" type="chapter">
               <pb n="45" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p45.jpg"/>
               <head>CHAP. II.</head>
               
                  <p>
                     <hi rend="italic">The author's birth and parentage—His being kidnapped with his
                        sister—Their separation—Surprise at meeting again—Are finally
                        separated—Account of the different places and incidents the author met with
                        till his arrival on the coast—The effect the sight of a slave ship had on
                        him—He sails for the West Indies—Horrors of a slave ship—Arrives at
                        Barbadoes, where the cargo is sold and dispersed.</hi>
                  </p>
               
               <p>I HOPE the reader will not think I have trespassed on his patience in introducing
                  myself to him with some account of the manners and customs of my country. They had
                  been implanted <pb n="46" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p46.jpg"/> in me with
                  great care, and made an impression on my mind, which time could not erase, and
                  which all the adversity and variety of fortune I have since experienced, served
                  only to rivet and record; for, whether the love of one's country be real or
                  imaginary, or a lesson of reason, or an instinct of nature, I still look back with
                  pleasure on the first scenes of my life, though that pleasure has been for the
                  most part mingled with sorrow.</p>
               <p>I have already acquainted the reader with the time and place of my birth. My
                  father, besides many slaves, had a numerous family, of which seven lived to grow
                  up, including myself and a sister; who was the only daughter. As I was the
                  youngest of the sons, I became, of course, the greatest favourite with my mother,
                  and was always with her; and she used to take particular <pb n="47" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p47.jpg"/> pains to form my mind. I was trained
                  up from my earliest years in the art of war: my daily exercise was shooting and
                  throwing javelins; and my mother adorned me with emblems, after the manner of our
                  greatest warriors. In this way I grew up till I was turned the age of eleven, when
                  an end was put to my happiness in the following manner:—Generally when the grown
                  people in the neighbourhood were gone far in the fields to labour the children
                  assembled together in some of the neighbours' premises to play; and commonly some
                  of us used to get up a tree to look out for any assailant, or kidnapper, that
                  might come upon us; for they sometimes took those opportunities of our parents
                  absence to attack and carry off as many as they could seize. One day, as I was
                  watching at the top of a tree in our yard, I saw one of those people <pb n="48" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p48.jpg"/> come into the yard of our next
                  neighbour but one, to kidnap, there being many stout young people in it.
                  Immediately on this I gave the alarm of the rogue, and he was surrounded by the
                  stoutest of them, who entangled him with cords, so that he could not escape till
                  some of the grown people came and secured him. But alas! ere long it was my fate
                  to be thus attacked, and to be carried off, when none of the grown people were
                  nigh. One day, when all our people were gone out to their works as usual, and only
                  I and my dear sister were left to mind the house, two men and a woman got over our
                  walls, and in a moment seized us both, and, without giving us time to cry out, or
                  make resistance, they stopped our mouths, and ran off with us, into the nearest
                  wood. Here they tied our hands, and continued to carry us as <pb n="49" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p49.jpg"/> far as they could, till night came on,
                  when we reached a small house, where the robbers halted for refreshment and spent
                  the night. We were then unbound, but were unable to take any food; and, being
                  quite overpowered by fatigue and grief, our only relief was some sleep, which
                  allayed our misfortune for a short time. The next morning we left the house, and
                  continued travelling all the day. For a long time we had kept the woods, but at
                  last we came into a road which I believed I knew. I had now some hopes of being
                  delivered; for we had advanced but a little way before I discovered some people at
                  a distance, on which I began to cry out for their assistance; but my cries had no
                  other effect than to make them tie me faster and stop my mouth, and then they put
                  me into a large sack. They also <pb n="50" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p50.jpg"/> stopped my sister's mouth, and tied her hands; and in this manner we proceeded
                  till we were out of the sight of these people. When we went to rest the following
                  night they offered us some victuals; but we refused it; and the only comfort we
                  had was in being in one another's arms all that night, and bathing each other with
                  our tears. But alas! we were soon deprived of even the small comfort of weeping
                  together. The next day proved a day of greater sorrow than I had yet experienced;
                  for my sister and I were then separated, while we lay clasped in each others arms.
                  It was in vain that we besought them not to part us; she was torn from me, and
                  immediately carried away, while I was left in a state of distraction not to be
                  described. I cried and grieved continually; and for several days, did not <pb n="51" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p51.jpg"/> eat any thing but what they
                  forced into my mouth. At length, after many days travelling, during which I had
                  often changed masters, I got into the hands of a chieftain, in a very pleasant
                  country. This man had two wives and some children, and they all used me extremely
                  well, and did all they could to comfort me; particularly the first wife, who was
                  something like my mother. Although I was a great many days journey from my
                  father's house, yet these people spoke exactly the same language with us. This
                  first master of mine, as I may call him, was a smith, and my principal employment
                  was working his bellows, which were the same kind as I had seen in my vicinity.
                  They were in some respects not unlike the stoves here in gentlemen's kitchens; and
                  were covered over with leather; and in the <pb n="52" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p52.jpg"/> middle of that leather a stick was
                  fixed, and a person stood up, and worked it, in the same manner as is done to pump
                  water out of a cask with a hand pump. I believe it was gold he worked, for it was
                  of a lovely bright yellow colour, and was worn by the women on their wrists and
                  ancles. I was there I suppose about a month, and they at last used to trust me
                  some little distance from the house. This liberty I used in embracing every
                  opportunity to inquire the way to my own home: and I also sometimes, for the same
                  purpose, went with the maidens, in the cool of the evenings, to bring pitchers of
                  water from the springs for the use of the house. I had also remarked where the sun
                  rose in the morning, and set in the evening, as I had travelled along; and I had
                  observed that my father's house was towards the <pb n="53" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p53.jpg"/> rising of the sun. I therefore
                  determined to seize the first opportunity of making my escape, and to shape my
                  course for that quarter; for I was quite oppressed and weighed down by grief after
                  my mother and friends; and my love of liberty, ever great, was strengthened by the
                  mortifying circumstance of not daring to eat with the free-born children, although
                  I was mostly their companion. While I was projecting my escape, one day an unlucky
                  event happened, which quite disconcerted my plan, and put an end to my hopes. I
                  used to be sometimes employed in assisting an elderly woman slave, to cook and
                  take care of the poultry: and one morning, while I was feeding some chickens, I
                  happened to toss a small pebble at one of them, which hit it on the middle, and
                  directly killed it. The old slave, having <pb n="54" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p54.jpg"/> soon after missed the chicken,
                  inquired after it; and on my relating the accident (for I told her the truth,
                  because my mother would never suffer me to tell a lie) she flew into a violent
                  passion, threatened that I should suffer for it; and, my master being out, she
                  immediately went and told her mistress what I had done. This alarmed me very much,
                  and I expected an instant flogging, which to me was uncommonly dreadful; for I had
                  seldom been beaten at home. I therefore resolved to fly; and accordingly I ran
                  into a thicket that was hard by, and hid myself in the bushes. soon afterwards my
                  mistress and the slave returned, and, not seeing me, they searched all the house,
                  but not finding me, and I not making answer when they called to me, they thought I
                  ad run away, and the whole neighbourhood <pb n="55" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p55.jpg"/> was raised in the pursuit of me. In
                  that part of the country (as in ours) the houses and villages were skirted with
                  woods, or shrubberies, and the bushes were so thick that a man could readily
                  conceal himself in them, so as to elude the strictest search. The neighbours
                  continued the whole day looking for me, and several times many of them came within
                  a few yards of the place where I lay hid. I expected every moment, when I heard a
                  rustling among the trees, to be found out, and punished by my master: but they
                  never discovered me, though they were often so near that I even heard their
                  conjectures as they were looking about for me; and I now learned from them, that
                  any attempt to return home would be hopeless. Most of them supposed I had fled
                  towards home; <pb n="56" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p56.jpg"/> but the distance
                  was so great, and the way so intricate, that they thought I could never reach it,
                  and that I should be lost in the woods. When I heard this I was seized with a
                  violent panie, and abandoned myself to despair. Night too began to approach, and
                  aggravated all my fears. I had before entertained hopes of getting home; and had
                  determined when it should be dark to make the attempt; but I was now convinced it
                  was fruitless, and began to consider that, if possibly I could escape all other
                  animals, I could not those of the human kind; and that, not knowing the way, I
                  must perish in the woods. Thus was I like the hunted deer:<quote>
                     <lg>
                        <l>—"Ev'ry leaf and ev'ry whisp'ring breath</l>
                        <l>"Convey'd a foe, and ev'ry foe a death."</l>
                     </lg>
                  </quote>
               </p>
               <p>I heard frequent rustlings among the leaves; and being pretty sure they were <pb n="57" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p57.jpg"/> snakes, I expected every
                  instant to be stung by them. This increased my anguish, and the horror of my
                  situation became now quite insupportable. I at length quitted the thicket, very
                  faint and hungry, for I had not eaten or drank any thing all the day; and crept to
                  my master's kitchen, from whence I set out at first, and which was an open shed,
                  and laid myself down in the ashes with an anxious wish for death to relieve me
                  from all my pains. I was scarcely awake in the morning, when the old woman slave,
                  who was the first up, came to light the fire, and saw me in the fire place. She
                  was very much surprised to see me, and could scarcely believe her own eyes. She
                  now promised to intercede for me, and went for her master, who soon after came,
                  and, having slightly reprimanded <pb n="58" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p58.jpg"/> me, ordered me to be taken care of, and not ill treated.</p>
               <p>Soon after this my master's only daughter, and child by his first wife, sickened
                  and died, which affected him so much that for some time he was almost frantic, and
                  really would have killed himself, had he not been watched and prevented. However,
                  in a small time afterwards he recovered, and I was again sold. I was now carried
                  to the left of the sun's rising, through many dreary wastes and dismal woods,
                  amidst the hideous roarings of wild beasts. The people I was sold to used to carry
                  me very often, when I was tired, either on their shoulders or on their backs. I
                  saw many convenient well-built sheds along the road, at proper distances, to
                  accommodate the merchants and travellers, who lay in those buildings along with
                     <pb n="59" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p59.jpg"/> their wives, who often
                  accompany them; and they always go well armed.</p>
               <p>From the time I left my own nation I always found somebody that understood me
                  till I came to the sea coast. The languages of different nations did not totally
                  differ, nor were they so copious as those of the Europeans, particularly the
                  English. They were therefore easily learned; and, while I was journeying thus
                  through Africa, I acquired two or three different tongues. In this manner I had
                  been travelling for a considerable time, when one evening to my great surprise,
                  whom should I see brought to the house where I was but my dear sister! As soon as
                  she saw me she gave a loud shriek, and ran into my arms—I was quite overpowered:
                  neither of us could speak; but, for a considerable time, <pb n="60" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p60.jpg"/> clung to each other in mutual
                  embraces, unable to do any thing but weep. Our meeting affected all who saw us;
                  and indeed I must acknowledge, in honour of those sable destroyers of human
                  rights, that I never met with any ill treatment, or saw any offered to their
                  slaves, except tying them, when necessary, to keep them from running away. When
                  these people knew we were brother and sister, they indulged us to be together; and
                  the man, to whom I supposed we belonged, lay with us, he in the middle, while she
                  and I held one another by the hands across his breast all night; and thus for a
                  while we forgot our misfortunes in the joy of being together: but even this small
                  comfort was soon to have an end; for scarcely had the fatal morning appeared, when
                  she was again torn from me for ever! I was now more miserable, <pb n="61" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p61.jpg"/> if possible, than before. The small
                  relief which her presence gave me from pain was gone, and the wretchedness of my
                  situation was redoubled by my anxiety after her fate, and my apprehensions lest
                  her sufferings should be greater than mine, when I could not be with her to
                  alleviate them. Yes, thou dear partner of all my childish sports! thou sharer of
                  my joys and sorrows! happy should I have ever esteemed myself to encounter every
                  misery for you, and to procure your freedom by the sacrifice of my own. Though you
                  were early forced from my arms, your image has been always rivetted in my heart,
                  from which neither <hi rend="italic">time nor fortune</hi> have been able to
                  remove it; so that, while the thoughts of your sufferings have damped my
                  prosperity, they have mingled with adversity and increased its bitterness. <pb n="62" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p62.jpg"/> To that Heaven which protects
                  the weak from the strong, I commit the care of your innocence and virtues, if they
                  have not already received their full reward, and if your youth and delicacy have
                  not long since fallen victims to the violence of the African trader, the
                  pestilential stench of a Guinea ship, the seasoning in the European colonies, or
                  the lash and lust of a brutal and unrelenting overseer.</p>
               <p>I did not long remain after my sister. I was again sold, and carried through a
                  number of places, till, after travelling a considerable time, I came to a town
                  called Tinmah, in the most beautiful country I had yet seen in Africa. It was
                  extremely rich, and there were many rivulets which flowed through it, and supplied
                  a large pond in the centre of the town, where the people washed. Here I first saw
                  and tasted cocoa nuts, <pb n="63" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p63.jpg"/> which I
                  thought superior to any nuts I had ever tasted before; and the trees, which were
                  loaded, were also interspersed amongst the houses, which had commodious shades
                  adjoining, and were in the same manner as ours, the insides being neatly plastered
                  and whitewashed, Here I also saw and tasted for the first time sugar-cane. Their
                  money consisted of little white shells, the size of the finger nail. I was sold
                  here for one hundred and seventy-two of them by a merchant who lived and brought
                  me there. I had been about two or three days at his house, when a wealthy widow, a
                  neighbour of his, came there one evening, and brought with her an only son, a
                  young gentleman about my own age and size. Here they saw me; and, having taken a
                  fancy to me, I was bought of the merchant, and went home with them. Her house and
                     <pb n="64" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p64.jpg"/> premises were situated
                  close to one of those rivulets I have mentioned, and were the finest I ever saw in
                  Africa: they were very extensive, and she had a number of slaves to attend her.
                  The next day I was washed and perfumed, and when meal-time came, I was led into
                  the presence of my mistress, and eat and drank before her with her son. This
                  filled me with astonishment; and I could scarce help expressing my surprise that
                  the young gentleman should suffer me, who was bound, to eat with him who was free;
                  and not only so, but that he would not at any time either eat or drink till I had
                  taken first, because I was the eldest, which was agreeable to our custom. Indeed
                  every thing here, and all their treatment of me, made me forget that I was a
                  slave. The language of these people resembled ours so nearly, that we understood
                     <pb n="65" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p65.jpg"/> each other perfectly. They
                  had also the very same customs as we. There were likewise slaves daily to attend
                  us, while my young master and I with other boys sported with our darts and bows
                  and arrows, as I had been used to do at home. In this resemblance to my former
                  happy state, I passed about two months; and I now began to think I was to be
                  adopted into the family, and was beginning to be reconciled to my situation, and
                  to forget by degrees my misfortunes, when all at once the delusion vanished; for,
                  without the least previous knowledge, one morning early, while my dear master and
                  companion was still asleep, I was awakened out of my reverie to fresh sorrow, and
                  hurried away even amongst the uncircumcised.</p>
               <p>Thus, at the very moment I dreamed of the greatest happiness, I found my self <pb n="66" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p66.jpg"/> most miserable; and it seemed
                  as if fortune wished to give me this taste of joy, only to render the reverse more
                  poignant. The change I now experienced was as painful as it was sudden and
                  unexpected. It was a change indeed from a state of bliss to a scene which is
                  inexpressible by me, as it discovered to me an element I had never before beheld,
                  and till then had no idea of, and wherein such instances of hardship and cruelty
                  continually occurred as I can never reflect on but with horror.</p>
               <p>All the nations and people I had hitherto passed through resembled our own in
                  their manners, customs, and language: but I came at length to a country, the
                  inhabitants of which differed from us in all those particulars. I was very much
                  struck with this difference, especially when I came among <pb n="67" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p67.jpg"/> a people who did not circumcise, and
                  eat without washing their hands. They cooked also in iron pots, and had European
                  cutlasses and cross bows, which were unknown to us, and fought with their fists
                  amongst themselves. Their women were not so modest as ours, for they eat, and
                  drank, and slept, with their men. But above all, I was amazed to see no sacrifices
                  or offerings among them. In some of those places the people ornamented themselves
                  with scars, and likewise filed their teeth very sharp. They wanted sometimes to
                  ornament me in the same manner, but I would not suffer them; hoping that I might
                  some time be among a people who did not thus disfigure themselves, as I thought
                  they did. At last I came to the banks of a large river, which was covered with
                  canoes, in which the people appeared to live <pb n="68" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p68.jpg"/> with their household utensils and
                  provisions of all kinds. I was beyond measure astonished at this, as I had never
                  before seen any water larger than a pond or a rivulet: and my surprise was mingled
                  with no small fear when I was put into one of these canoes, and we began to paddle
                  and move along the river. We continued going on thus till night; and when we came
                  to land, and made fires on the banks, each family by themselves, some dragged
                  their canoes on shore, others stayed and cooked in theirs, and laid in them all
                  night. Those on the land had mats, of which they made tents, some in the shape of
                  little houses: in these we slept: and after the morning meal, we embarked again
                  and proceeded as before. I was often very much astonished to see some of the
                  women, as well as the men, jump into the water, dive to the<pb n="69" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p69.jpg"/> bottom, come up again, and swim about.
                  Thus I continued to travel, sometimes by land, sometimes by water, through
                  different countries and various nations, till, at the end of six or seven months
                  after I had been kidnapped, I arrived at the sea coast. It would be tedious and
                  uninteresting to relate all the incidents which befell me during this journey, and
                  which I have not yet forgotten; of the various hands I passed through, and the
                  manners and customs of all the different people among whom I lived: I shall
                  therefore only observe, that in all the places where I was, the soil was
                  exceedingly rich; the pomkins, aedas, plantains, yams, &amp;c. &amp;c. were in
                  great abundance, and of incredible size. There were also vast quantities of
                  different gums, though not used for any purpose; and every where a great deal of
                     <pb n="70" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p70.jpg"/> tobacco. The cotton even
                  grew quite wild; and there was plenty of red-wood. I saw no mechanics whatever in
                  all the way, except such as I have mentioned. The chief employment in all these
                  countries was agriculture, and both the males and females, as with us, were
                  brought up to it, and trained in the arts of war.</p>
               <p>The first object which saluted my eyes when I arrived on the coast was the sea,
                  and a slave ship, which was then riding at anchor, and waiting for its cargo.
                  These filled me with astonishment, which was soon converted into terror when I was
                  carried on board. I was immediately handled, and tossed up to see if I were sound,
                  by some of the crew; and I was now persuaded that I had gotten into a world of bad
                  spirits, and that they were going to kill me. Their complexions too<pb n="71" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p71.jpg"/> differing so much from ours, their
                  long hair, and the language they spoke, (which was very different from any I had
                  ever heard) united to confirm me in this belief. Indeed such were the horrors of
                  my views and fears at the moment, that, if ten thousand worlds, had been my own, I
                  would have freely parted with them all to have exchanged my condition with that of
                  the meanest slave in my own country. When I looked round the ship too and saw a
                  large furnace or copper boiling, and a multitude of black people of every
                  description chained together, every one of their countenances expressing dejection
                  and sorrow, I no longer doubted of my fate; and, quite overpowered with horror and
                  anguish, I fell motionless on the deck and fainted. When I recovered a little I
                  found some black people about me, who I believed were <pb n="72" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p72.jpg"/> some of those who brought me on board,
                  and had been receiving their pay; they talked to me in order to cheer me, but all
                  in vain. I asked them if we were not to be eaten by those white men with horrible
                  looks, red faces, and long hair. They told me I was not: and one of the crew
                  brought me a small portion of spirituous liquor in a wine glass; but, being afraid
                  of him, I would not take it out of his hand. One of the blacks therefore took it
                  from him and gave it to me, and I took a little down my palate, which, instead of
                  reviving me, as they thought it would, threw me into the greatest consternation at
                  the strange feeling it produced, having never tasted any such liquor before. Soon
                  after this the blacks who brought me on board went off, and left me abandoned to
                  despair. I now saw myself deprived <pb n="73" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p73.jpg"/> of all chance of returning to my
                  native country, or even the least glimpse of hope of gaining the shore, which I
                  now considered as friendly; and I even wished for my former slavery in preference
                  to my present situation, which was filled with horrors of every kind, still
                  heightened by my ignorance of what I was to undergo. I was not long suffered to
                  indulge my grief; I was soon put down under the decks, and there I received such a
                  salutation in my nostrils as I had never experienced in my life: so that, with the
                  loathsomeness of the stench, and crying together, I became so sick and low that I
                  was not able to eat, nor had I the least desire to taste any thing. I now wished
                  for the last friend, death, to relieve me; but soon, to my grief, two of the white
                  men offered me eatables; and, on my refusing to eat, <pb n="74" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p74.jpg"/> one of them held me fast by the hands,
                  and laid me across, I think the windlass, and tied my feet, while the other
                  flogged me severely. I had never experienced any thing of this kind before; and
                  although not being used to the water, I naturally feared that element the first
                  time I saw it, yet nevertheless, could I have got over the nettings, I would have
                  jumped over the side, but I could not; and, besides, the crew used to watch us
                  very closely who were not chained down to the decks, lest we should leap into the
                  water: and I have seen some of these poor African prisoners most severely cut for
                  attempting to do so, and hourly whipped for not eating. This indeed was often the
                  case with myself. In a little time after, amongst the poor chained men, I found
                  some of my own nation, which in a small degree gave ease to my mind. I <pb n="75" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p75.jpg"/> inquired of these what was to be done
                  with us? They gave me to understand we were to be carried to these white people's
                  country to work for them. I then was a little revived, and thought, if it were no
                  worse than working, my situation was not so desperate: but still I feared I should
                  be put to death, the white people looked and acted, as I thought, in so savage a
                  manner; for I had never seen among any people such instances of brutal cruelty;
                  and this not only shewn towards us blacks, but also to some of the whites
                  themselves. One white man in particular I saw, when we were permitted to be on
                  deck, flogged so unmercifully with a large rope near the foremast, that he died in
                  consequence of it; and they tossed him over the side as they would have done a
                  brute. This made me fear these people the more; and I expected <pb n="76" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p76.jpg"/> nothing less than to be treated in the
                  same manner. I could not help expressing my fears and apprehensions to some of my
                  countrymen: I asked them if these people had no country, but lived in this hollow
                  place (the ship)? they told me they did not, but came from a distant one. 
                    'Then,' said I, 
                     'how comes it in all our country we never heard of
                     them?' They told me because they lived so very far off. I then asked
                  where were their women? had they any like themselves? I was told they had: 
                     'And why,'said I, 'do we not see them?' they answered,
                  because they were left behind. I asked how the vessel could go? they told me they
                  could not tell; but that there were cloth put upon the masts by the help of the
                  ropes I saw, and then the vessel went on; and the white men had some spell or
                  magic they put in the water <pb n="77" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p77.jpg"/>
                  when they liked in order to stop the vessel. I was exceedingly amazed at this
                  account, and really thought they were spirits. I therefore wished much to be from
                  amongst them, for I expected they would sacrifice me: but my wishes were vain; for
                  we were so quartered that it was impossible for any of us to make our escape.
                  While we stayed on the coast I was mostly on deck; and one day, to my great
                  astonishment, I saw one of these vessels coming in with the sails up. As soon as
                  the whites saw it, they gave a great shout, at which we were amazed; and the more
                  so as the vessel appeared larger by approaching nearer. At last she came to an
                  anchor in my sight, and when the anchor was let go I and my countrymen who saw it
                  were lost in astonishment to observe the vessel stop; and were now convinced it
                  was <pb n="78" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p78.jpg"/> done by magic. Soon after
                  this the other ship got her boats out, and they came on board of us, and the
                  people of both ships seemed very glad to see each other. Several of the strangers
                  also shook hands with us black people, and made motions with their hands,
                  signifying I suppose, we were to go to their country; but we did not understand
                  them. At last, when the ship we were in, had got in all her cargo, they made ready
                  with many fearful noises, and we were all put under deck, so that we could not see
                  how they managed the vessel. But this disappointment was the least of my sorrow.
                  The stench of the hold while we were on the coast was so intolerably loathsome,
                  that it was dangerous to remain there for any time, and some of us had been
                  permitted to stay on the deck for the fresh air; but now that the whole ship's
                  cargo were <pb n="79" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p79.jpg"/> confined together,
                  it became absolutely <ref target="pestilential_" corresp="pestilential">pestilential</ref>. The closeness of the place, and the heat of the climate,
                  added to the number in the ship, which was so crowded that each had scarcely room
                  to turn himself, almost suffocated us. This produced copious perspirations, so
                  that the air soon became unfit for respiration, from a variety of loathsome
                  smells, and brought on a sickness among the slaves, of which many died, thus
                  falling victims to the improvident avarice, as I may call it, of their purchasers.
                  This wretched situation was again aggravated by the galling of the chains, now
                  become insupportable; and the filth of the necessary tubs, into which the children
                  often fell, and were almost suffocated. The shrieks of the women, and the groans
                  of the dying, rendered the whole a scene of horror almost inconceivable. Happily
                  perhaps <pb n="80" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p80.jpg"/> for myself I was soon
                  reduced so low here that it was thought necessary to keep me almost always
                  on-deck; and from my extreme youth I was not put in fetters. In this situation I
                  expected every hour to share the fate of my companions, some of whom were almost
                  daily brought upon deck at the point of death, which I began to hope would soon
                  put an end to my miseries. Often did I think many of the inhabitants of the deep
                  much more happy than myself, I envied them the freedom they enjoyed, and as often
                  wished I could change my condition for theirs. Every circumstance I met with
                  served only to render my state more painful, and heighten my apprehensions, and my
                  opinion of the cruelty of the whites. One day they had taken a number of fishes;
                  and when they had killed and satisfied themselves with as many as <pb n="81" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p81.jpg"/> they thought fit, to our astonishment
                  who were on the deck, rather than give any of them to us to eat, as we expected,
                  they tossed the remaining fish into the sea again, although we begged and prayed
                  for some as well as we could, but in vain; and some of my countrymen, being
                  pressed by hunger, took an opportunity, when they thought no one saw them, of
                  trying to get a little privately; but they were discovered, and the attempt
                  procured them some very severe floggings. One day, when we had a smooth sea and
                  moderate wind, two of my wearied countrymen who were chained together (I was near
                  them at the time), preferring death to such a life of misery, somehow made through
                  the nettings and jumped into the sea: immediately another quite dejected fellow,
                  who on account of his illness, was suffered to be out of irons, <pb n="82" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p82.jpg"/> also followed their example; and I
                  believe many more would very soon have done the same if they had not been
                  prevented by the ship's crew, who were instantly alarmed. Those of us that were
                  the most active were in a moment put down under the deck, and there was such a
                  noise and confusion amongst the people of the ship as I never heard before, to
                  stop her, and get the boat out to go after the slaves. However two of the wretches
                  were drowned, but they got the other, and afterwards flogged him unmercifully, for
                  thus attempting to prefer death to slavery. In this manner we continued to undergo
                  more hardships than I can now relate, hardships which are inseparable from this
                  accursed trade. Many a time we were near suffocation from the want of fresh air,
                  which we were often without for whole days together. This, <pb n="83" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p83.jpg"/> and the stench of the necessary tubs,
                  carried off many. During our passage I first saw flying fishes, which surprised me
                  very much: they used frequently to fly across the ship, and many of them fell on
                  the deck. I also now first saw the use of the quadrant; I had often with
                  astonishment seen the mariners make observations with it, and I could not think
                  what it meant. They at last took notice of my surprise: and one of them, willing
                  to increase it, as well as to gratify my curiosity, made me one day look through
                  it. The clouds appeared to me to be land, which disappeared as they passed along.
                  This heightened my wonder; and I was now more persuaded than ever that I was in
                  another world, and that every thing about me was magic. At last we came in sight
                  of the island of Barbadoes, at which the whites on board gave a great <pb n="84" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p84.jpg"/> shout, and made many signs of joy to
                  us. We did not know what to think of this; but as the vessel drew nearer we
                  plainly saw the harbour, and other ships of different kinds and sizes; and we soon
                  anchored amongst them off Bridge Town. Many merchants and planters now came on
                  board, though it was in the evening. They put us in separate parcels, and examined
                  us attentively. They also made us jump, and pointed to the land, signifying we
                  were to go there. We thought by this we should be eaten by these ugly men, as they
                  appeared to us; and, when soon after we were all put down under the deck again,
                  there was much dread and trembling among us, and nothing but bitter cries to be
                  heard all the night from these apprehensions, insomuch that at last the white
                  people got some old slaves from the land to pacify us. They <pb n="85" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p85.jpg"/> told us we were not to be eaten, but
                  to work, and were soon to go on land, where we should see many of our country
                  people. This report eased us much; and sure enough, soon after we were landed,
                  there came to us Africans of all languages. We were conducted immediately to the
                  merchant's yard, where we were all pent up together like so many sheep in a fold,
                  without regard to sex or age. As every object was new to me every thing I saw
                  filled me with surprise. What struck me first was that the houses were built with
                  bricks and stories, and in every other respect different from those I had seen in
                  Africa: but I was still more astonished on seeing people on horseback. I did not
                  know what this could mean; and indeed I thought these people were full of nothing
                  but magical arts. While I was in this astonishment one of my <pb n="86" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p86.jpg"/> fellow prisoners spoke to a countryman
                  of his about the horses, who said they were the same kind they had in their
                  country. I understood them, though they were from a distant part of Africa, and I
                  thought it odd I had not seen any horses there; but afterwards, when I came to
                  converse with different Africans, I found they had many horses amongst them, and
                  much larger than those I then saw. We were not many days in the merchant's custody
                  before we were sold after their usual manner, which is this:—On a signal given,
                  (as the beat of a drum) the buyers rush at once into the yard where the slaves are
                  confined, and make choice of that parcel they like best. The noise and clamour
                  with which this is attended, and the eagerness visible in the countenances of the
                  buyers, serve not a little to increase the apprehension of the <pb n="87" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p87.jpg"/> terrified Africans, who may well be
                  supposed to consider them as the ministers of that destruction to which they think
                  themselves devoted. In this manner, without scruple, are relations and friends
                  separated, most of them never to see each other again. I remember in the vessel in
                  which I was brought over, in the men's apartment, there were several brothers,
                  who, in the sale, were sold in different lots; and it was very moving on this
                  occasion to see and hear their cries at parting. O, ye nominal Christians! Might
                  not an African ask you, learned you this from your God, who says unto you, do unto
                  all men as you would men should do unto you? Is it not enough that we are torn
                  from our country and friends, to toil for your luxury and lust of gain? Must every
                  tender feeling be likewise sacrificed to your avarice? <pb n="88" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p88.jpg"/> Are the dearest friends and relations,
                  now rendered more dear by their separation from their kindred, still to be parted
                  from each other, and thus prevented from cheering the gloom of slavery with the
                  small comfort of being together and mingling their sufferings and sorrows? Why are
                  parents to lose their children, brothers their sisters, or husbands their wives?
                  Surely this is a new refinement in cruelty, which, while it has no advantage to
                  atone for it, thus aggravates distress, and adds fresh horrors even to the
                  wretchedness of slavery.</p>
            </div>
            <div n="3" type="chapter">
               <pb n="89" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p89.jpg"/>
               <head>CHAP. III.</head>
               
                  <p>
                     <hi rend="italic">The author is carried to Virginia—His distress—surprise at
                        seeing a picture and a watch—Is bought by Captain Pascal, and sets out for
                        England—His terror during the voyage—Arrives in England—His wonder at a fall
                        of snow—Is sent to Guernsey, and in some time goes on board a ship of war
                        with his master—Some account of the expedition against Louisbourg under the
                        command of Admiral Boscawen, in</hi> 1758.</p>
               
               <p>I now totally lost the small remains of comfort I had enjoyed in conversing with
                  my countrymen; the women too, who used to wash and take care of me, were all gone
                  different <pb n="90" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p90.jpg"/> ways, and I never
                  saw one of them afterwards.</p>
               <p>I stayed in this island for a few days; I believe it could not be above a
                  fortnight; when I and some few more slaves, that were not saleable amongst the
                  rest, from very much fretting, were shipped off in a sloop for North America. On
                  the passage we were better treated than when we were coming from Africa, and we
                  had plenty of rice and fat pork. We were landed up a river a good way from the
                  sea, about Virginia county, where we saw few or none of our native Africans, and
                  not one soul who could talk to me. I was a few weeks weeding grass, and gathering
                  stones in a plantation; and at last all my companions were distributed different
                  ways, and only myself was left. I was now exceedingly miserable, and thought
                  myself worse off <pb n="91" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p91.jpg"/> than any of
                  the rest of my companions; for they could talk to each other, but I had no person
                  to speak to that I could understand. In this state I was constantly grieving and
                  pining, and wishing for death rather than any thing else. While I was in this
                  plantation the gentleman, to whom I suppose the estate belonged, being unwell, I
                  was one day sent for to his dwelling house to fan him; when I came into the room
                  where he was I was very much affrighted at some things I saw, and the more so as I
                  had seen a black woman slave as I came through the house, who was cooking the
                  dinner, and the poor creature was cruelly loaded with various kinds of iron
                  machines; she had one particularly on her head, which locked her mouth so fast
                  that she could scarcely speak; and could not eat nor drink. I was much astonished
                  and shocked at <pb n="92" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p92.jpg"/> this
                  contrivance, which I afterwards learned was called the iron muzzle. Soon after I
                  had a fan put into my hand, to fan the gentleman while he slept; and so I did
                  indeed with great fear. While he was fast asleep I indulged myself a great deal in
                  looking about the room, which to me appeared very fine and curious. The first
                  object that engaged my attention was a watch which hung on the chimney, and was
                  going. I was quite surprised at the noise it made, and was afraid it would tell
                  the gentleman any thing I might do amiss: and when I immediately after observed a
                  picture hanging in the room, which appeared constantly to look at me, I was still
                  more affrighted, having never seen such things as these before. At one time I
                  thought it was something relative to magic; and not seeing it move I thought it
                  might be some way <pb n="93" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p93.jpg"/> the whites
                  had to keep their great men when they died, and offer them libations as we used to
                  do to our friendly spirits. In this state of anxiety I remained till my master
                  awoke, when I was dismissed out of the room, to my no small satisfaction and
                  relief; for I thought that these people were all made up of wonders. In this place
                  I was called Jacob; but on board the African scow I was called Michael. I had been
                  some time in this miserable, forlorn, and much dejected state, without having any
                  one to talk to, which made my life a burden, when the kind and unknown hand of the
                  Creator (who in very deed leads the blind in a way they know not) now began to
                  appear, to my comfort; for one day the captain of a merchant ship, called the
                  Industrious Bee, came on some business to my master's house. This gentleman, whose
                  name was Michael <pb n="94" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p94.jpg"/> Henry Pascal,
                  was a lieutenant in the royal navy, but now commanded this trading ship, which was
                  somewhere in the confines of the county many miles off. While he was at my
                  master's house it happened that he saw me, and liked me so well that he made a
                  purchase of me. I think I have often heard him say he gave thirty or forty pounds
                  sterling for me; but I do not now remember which. However, he meant me for a
                  present to some of his friends in England: and I was sent accordingly from the
                  house of my then master, (one Mr. Campbell) to the place where the ship lay; I was
                  conducted on horseback by an elderly black man, (a mode of travelling which
                  appeared very odd to me). When I arrived I was carried on board a fine large ship,
                  loaded with tobacco, &amp;c. and just ready to sail for England. <pb n="95" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p95.jpg"/> I now thought my condition much
                  mended; I had sails to lie on, and plenty of good victuals to eat; and every body
                  on board used me very kindly, quite contrary to what I had seen of any white
                  people before; I therefore began to think that they were not all of the same
                  disposition. A few days after I was on board we sailed for England. I was still at
                  a loss to conjecture my destiny. By this time, however, I could smatter a little
                  imperfect English; and I wanted to know as well as I could where we were going.
                  some of the people of the ship used to tell me they were going to carry me back to
                  my own country, and this made me very happy. I was quite rejoiced at the idea of
                  going back; and thought if I should get home what wonders I should have to tell.
                  But I was reserved for another <pb n="96" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p96.jpg"/>
                  fate, and was soon undeceived, when we came within sight of the English coast.
                  While I was on board this ship, my captain and master named me <hi rend="italic">Gustavus Vasa.</hi> I at that time began to understand him a little, and
                  refused to be called so, and told him as well as I could that I would be called
                  Jacob; but he said I should not, and still called me Gustavus: and when I refused
                  to answer to my new name, which at first I did, it gained me many a cuff; so at
                  length I submitted, and by which I have been known ever since. The ship had a very
                  long passage; and on that account we had very short allowance of provisions.
                  Towards the last we had only one pound and a half of bread per week, and about the
                  same quantity of meat, and one quart of water a-day. We spoke with only one vessel
                  the whole time we were <pb n="97" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p97.jpg"/> at sea,
                  and but once we caught a few fishes. In our extremities the captain and people
                  told me in jest they would kill and eat me; but I thought them in earnest, and was
                  depressed beyond measure, expecting every moment to be my last. While I was in
                  this situation one evening they caught, with a good deal of trouble, a large
                  shark, and got it on board. This gladdened my poor heart exceedingly, as I thought
                  it would serve the people to eat instead of their eating me; but very soon, to my
                  astonishment, they cut off a small part of the tail, and tossed the rest over the
                  side. This renewed my <ref target="consternation_" corresp="consternation">consternation</ref>; and I did not know what to think of these white people,
                  though I very much feared they would kill and eat me. There was on board the ship
                  a young lad who had never been at sea before, about <pb n="98" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p98.jpg"/> four or five years older than myself;
                  his name was Richard Baker. He was a native of America, had received an excellent
                  education, and was of a most amiable temper. Soon after I went on board he shewed
                  me a great deal of partiality and attention, and in return I grew extremely fond
                  of him. We at length became inseparable; and, for the space of two years, he was
                  of very great use to me, and was my constant companion and instructor. Although
                  this dear youth had many slaves of his own, yet he and I have gone through many
                  sufferings together on shipboard; and we have many nights lain in each other's
                  bosoms when we were in great distress. Thus such a friendship was cemented between
                  us as we cherished till his death, which to my very great sorrow, happened in the
                  year 1759, when he was up the <pb n="99" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p99.jpg"/>Archipelago, on board his majesty's ship the Preston: an event which I have
                  never ceased to regret, as I lost at once a kind interpreter, an agreeable
                  companion, and a faithful friend; who, at the age of fifteen, discovered a mind
                  superior to prejudice; and who was not ashamed to notice, to associate with, and
                  to be the friend and instructor of one who was ignorant, a stranger, of a
                  different complexion, and a slave! My master had lodged in his mother's house in
                  America: he respected him very much, and made him always eat with him in the
                  cabin. He used often to tell him jocularly that he would kill and eat me.
                  Sometimes he would say to me—the black people were not good to eat, and would ask
                  me if we did not eat people in my country. I said, No: then he said he would kill
                  Dick (as he always called him) first, <pb n="100" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p100.jpg"/> and afterwards me. Though this
                  hearing relieved my mind a little as to myself, I was alarmed for Dick, and
                  whenever he was called I used to be very much afraid he was to be killed; and I
                  would peep and watch to see if they were going to kill him: nor was I free from
                  this consternation till we made the land. One night we lost a man overboard; and
                  the cries and noise were so great and confused, in stopping the ship, that I, who
                  did not know what was the matter, began, as usual, to be very much afraid, and to
                  think they were going to make an offering with me, and perform some magic; which I
                  still believed they dealt in. As the waves were very high I thought the Ruler of
                  the seas was angry, and I expected to be offered up to appease him. This filled my
                  mind with agony, and I could not any more <pb n="101" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p101.jpg"/> that night close my eyes again to
                  rest. However, when daylight appeared was a little eased in my mind; but still
                  every time I was called I used to think it was to be killed. some time after this
                  we saw some very large fish, which I afterwards found were called grampusses. They
                  looked to me extremely terrible, and made their appearance just at dusk; and were
                  so near as to blow the water on the ship's deck. I believed them to be the rulers
                  of the sea; and as the white people did not make any offerings at any time, I
                  thought they were angry with them: and, at last, what confirmed my belief was, the
                  wind just then died away, and a calm ensued, and in consequence of it the ship
                  stopped going. I supposed that the fish had performed this, and I hid myself in
                  the fore part of the ship, through fear of being <pb n="102" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p102.jpg"/> offered up to appease them, every
                  minute peeping and quaking: but my good friend Dick came shortly towards me, and I
                  took an opportunity to ask him, as well as I could, what these fish were. Not
                  being able to talk much English, I could but just make him understand my question;
                  and not at all, when I asked him if any offerings were to be made to them:
                  however, he told me these fish would swallow any body; which sufficiently alarmed
                  me. Here he was called away by the captain, who was leaning over the quarter-deck
                  railing and looking at the fish; and most of the people were busied in getting a
                  barrel of pitch to light, for them to play with. The captain now called me to him,
                  having learned some of my apprehensions from Dick; and having diverted himself and
                  others for some time with my fears <pb n="103" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p103.jpg"/> which appeared ludicrous enough in my
                  crying and trembling, he dismissed me. The barrel of pitch was now lighted and put
                  over the side into the water: by this time it was just dark, and the fish went
                  after it; and, to my great joy, I saw them no more.</p>
               <p>However, all my alarms began to subside when we got sight of land; and at last the
                  ship arrived at Falmouth, after a passage of thirteen weeks. Every heart on board
                  seemed gladdened on our reaching the shore, and none more than mine. The captain
                  immediately went on shore, and sent on board some fresh provisions, which we
                  wanted very much: we made good use of them, and our famine was soon turned into
                  feasting, almost without ending. It was about the beginning of the spring 1757,
                  when I arrived in England, and I was near twelve years of age at that <pb n="104" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p104.jpg"/> time. I was very much struck with the
                  buildings and the pavement of the streets in Falmouth; and, indeed, every object I
                  saw filled me with new surprise. One morning, when I got upon deck, I saw it
                  covered all over with the snow that fell over-night: as I had never seen any thing
                  of the kind before, I thought it was salt; so I immediately ran down to the mate
                  and desired him, as well as I could, to come and see how somebody in the night had
                  thrown salt all over the deck. He, knowing what it was, desired me to bring some
                  of it down to him: accordingly I took up a handful of it, which I found very cold
                  indeed; and when I brought it to him he desired me to taste it. I did so, and I
                  was surprised beyond measure. I then asked him what it was; he told me it was
                  snow: but I could not in anywise understand him. He <pb n="105" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p105.jpg"/> asked me if we had no such thing in
                  my country; and I told him, No. I then asked him the use of it, and who made it;
                  he told me a great man in the heavens, called God: but here again I was to all
                  intents and purposes at a loss to understand him; and the more so, when a little
                  after I saw the air filled with it, in a heavy shower, which fell down on the same
                  day. After this I went to church; and having never been at such a place before, I
                  was again amazed at seeing and hearing the service. I asked all I could about it;
                  and they gave me to understand it was worshipping God, who made us and all things.
                  I was still at a great loss, and soon got into an endless field of inquiries, as
                  well as I was able to speak and ask about things. However, my little friend Dick
                  used to<pb n="106" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p106.jpg"/> be my best
                  interpreter; for I could make free with him, and he always instructed me with
                  pleasure: and from what I could understand by him of this God, and in seeing these
                  white people did not sell one another as we did, I was much pleased; and in this I
                  thought they were much happier than we Africans. I was astonished at the wisdom of
                  the white people in all things I saw; but was amazed at their not sacrificing, or
                  making any offerings, and eating with unwashed hands, and touching the dead. I
                  likewise could not help remarking the particular slenderness of their women, which
                  I did not at first like; and I thought they were not so modest and shamefaced as
                  the African women.</p>
               <p>I had often seen my master and Dick employed in reading; and I had a great
                  curiosity to talk to the books, as <pb n="107" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p107.jpg"/> I thought they did; and so to learn
                  how all things had a beginning: for that purpose I have often taken up a book, and
                  have talked to it, and then put my ears to it, when alone, in hopes it would
                  answer me; and I have been very much concerned when I found it remained
                  silent.</p>
               <p>My master lodged at the house of a gentleman in Falmouth, who had a fine little
                  daughter about six or seven years of age, and she grew prodigiously fond of me;
                  insomuch that we used to eat together, and had servants to wait on us. I was so
                  much caressed by this family that it often reminded me of the treatment I had
                  received from my little noble African master. After I had been here a few days, I
                  was sent on board of the ship; but the child cried so much after me that nothing
                  could pacify her till I was sent for again. <pb n="108" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p108.jpg"/> It is ludicrous enough, that I began
                  to fear I should be betrothed to this young lady; and when my master asked me if I
                  would stay there with her behind him, as he was going away with the ship, which
                  had taken in the tobacco again, I cried immediately, and said I would not leave
                  him. At last, by stealth, one night I was sent on board the ship again; and in a
                  little time we sailed for Guernsey, where she was in part owned by a merchant, one
                  Nicholas Doberry. As I was now amongst a people who had not their faces scarred,
                  like some of the African nations where I had been, I was very glad I did not let
                  them ornament me in that manner when I was with them. When we arrived at Guernsey,
                  my master placed me to board and lodge with one of his mates, who had a wife and
                  family there; and some months afterwards <pb n="109" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p109.jpg"/> he went to England, and left me in
                  care of this mate, together with my friend Dick: This mate had a little daughter,
                  aged about five or six years, with whom I used to be much delighted. I had often
                  observed that when her mother washed her face it looked very rosy; but when she
                  washed mine it did not look so: I therefore tried oftentimes myself if I could not
                  by washing make my face of the same colour as my little play-mate (Mary), but it
                  was all in vain; and I now began to be mortified at the difference in our
                  complexions. This woman behaved to me with great kindness and attention; and
                  taught me every thing in the same manner as she did her own child, and indeed in
                  every respect treated me as such. I remained here till the summer of the year
                  1757; when my master, being appointed first lieutenant <pb n="110" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p110.jpg"/> of his majesty's ship the Roe buck,
                  sent for Dick and me, and his old mate: on this we all left Guernsey, and set out
                  for England in a sloop bound for London. As we were coming up towards the Nore,
                  where the Roebuck lay, a man of war's boat came alongside to press our people; on
                  which each man ran to hide himself. I was very much frightened at this, though I
                  did not know what it meant, or what to think or do. However I went and hid myself
                  also under a hencoop. Immediately afterwards the press-gang came on board with
                  their swords drawn, and searched all about, pulled the people out by force, and
                  put them into the boat. At last I was found out also; the man that found me held
                  me up by the heels while they all made their sport of me, I roaring and crying out
                  all the time most lustily; but at <pb n="111" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p111.jpg"/> last the mate, who was my conductor,
                  seeing this, came to my assistance, and did all he could to pacify me; but all to
                  very little purpose, till I had seen the boat go off. soon afterwards we came to
                  the Nore, where the Roebuck lay; and, to our great joy, my master came on board to
                  us, and brought us to the ship. When I went on board this large ship, I was amazed
                  indeed to see the quantity of men and the guns. However my surprise began to
                  diminish as my knowledge increased; and I ceased to feel those apprehensions and
                  alarms which had taken such strong possession of me when I first came among the
                  Europeans, and for some time after. I began now to pass to an opposite extreme; I
                  was so far from being afraid of any thing new which I saw, that, after I had been
                  some time in this ship, I even began to long for an engagement. <pb n="112" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p112.jpg"/> My griefs too, which in young minds
                  are not perpetual, were now wearing away; and I soon enjoyed myself pretty well,
                  and felt tolerably easy in my present situation. There was a number of boys on
                  board, which still made it more agreeable; for we were always together, and a
                  great part of our time was spent in play. I remained in this ship a considerable
                  time, during which we made several cruises, and visited a variety of places: among
                  others we were twice in Holland, and brought over several persons of distinction
                  from it, whose names I do not now remember. On the passage, one day, for the
                  diversion of those gentlemen, all the boys were called on the quarter deck, and
                  were paired proportionably, and then made to fight; after which the gentlemen gave
                  the combatants from five to nine shillings each. This was <pb n="113" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p113.jpg"/> the first time I ever fought with a
                  white boy; and I never knew what it was to have a bloody nose before. This made me
                  fight most desperately; I suppose considerably more than an hour: and at last,
                  both of us being weary, we were parted. I had a great deal of this kind of sport
                  afterwards, in which the captain and the ship's company used very much to
                  encourage me. Sometime afterwards the ship went to Leith in Scotland, and from
                  thence to the Orkneys, where I was surprised in seeing scarcely any night: and
                  from thence we sailed with a great fleet, full of soldiers, for England. All this
                  time we had never come to an engagement, though we were frequently cruising off
                  the coast of France: during which we chased many vessels, and took in all
                  seventeen prizes. I had been learning many of the manoeuvres of the ship <pb n="114" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p114.jpg"/> during our cruise; and I was
                  several times made to fire the guns. One evening, off Havre de Grace, just as it
                  was growing dark, we were standing off shore, and met with a fine large
                  French-built frigate. We got all things immediately ready for fighting; and I now
                  expected I should be gratified in seeing an engagement, which I had so long wished
                  for in vain. But the very moment the word of command was given to fire, we heard
                  those on board the other ship cry 'Haul down the
                     jib;' and in that instant she hoisted English colours. There was
                  instantly with us an amazing cry of—'Avast!' or stop
                  firing; and I think one or two guns had been let off, but happily they did no
                  mischief. We had hailed them several times; but they not hearing, we received no
                  answer, which was the cause of our firing. The boat was then sent <pb n="115" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p115.jpg"/> on board of her, and she proved to be
                  the Ambuscade man of war, to my nosmall disappointment. We returned to Portsmouth,
                  without having been in any action, just at the trial of Admiral Byng (whom I saw
                  several times during it): and my master having left the ship, and gone to London
                  for promotion, Dick and I were put on board the savage sloop of war, and we went
                  in her to assist in bringing off the St. George man of war, that had ran ashore
                  somewhere on the coast. After staying a few weeks on board the savage, Dick and I
                  were sent on shore at Deal, where we remained some short time, till my master sent
                  for us to London, the place I had long desired exceedingly to see. We therefore
                  both with great pleasure got into a waggon, and came to London, where we were
                  received by a Mr. Guerin, a relation of my master. This <pb n="116" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p116.jpg"/> gentleman had two sisters, very amiable ladies, who took much notice and great care of me. Though I had desired so
                  much to see London, when I arrived in it I was unfortunately unable to gratify my
                  curiosity; for I had at this time the chilblains to such a degree that I could not
                  stand for several months, and I was obliged to be sent to st. George's Hospital.
                  There I grew so ill, that the doctors wanted to cut my left leg off at different
                  times, apprehending a mortification; but I always said I would rather die than
                  suffer it; and happily (I thank God) I recovered without the operation. After
                  being there several weeks, and just as I had recovered, the small pox broke out on
                  me, so that I was again confined; and I thought myself now particularly
                  unfortunate. However I soon recovered again; and by this time my <pb n="117" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p117.jpg"/> master having been promoted to be
                  first lieutenant of the Preston man of war of fifty guns, then new at Deptford,
                  Dick and I were sent on board her, and soon after we went to Holland to bring over
                  the late Duke of — to England.—While I was in this ship an incident happened,
                  which, though trifling, I beg leave to relate, as I could not help taking
                  particular notice of it, and considering it then as a judgment of God. One morning
                  a young man was looking up to the fore-top, and in a wicked tone, common on
                  shipboard, d—d his eyes about something. Just at the moment some small particles
                  of dirt fell into his left eye, and by the evening it was very much inflamed. The
                  next day it grew worse; and within six or seven days he lost it. From this ship,
                  my master was appointed a lieutenant on board the Royal George. <pb n="118" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p118.jpg"/> When he was going he wished me to
                  stay on board the Preston, to learn the French horn; but the ship being or dered
                  for Turkey I could not think of leaving my master, to whom I was very warmly
                  attached; and I told him if he left me behind it would break my heart. This
                  prevailed on him to take me with him; but he left Dick on board the Preston, whom
                  I embraced at parting for the last time. The Royal George was the largest ship I
                  had ever seen; so that when I came on board of her I was surprised at the number
                  of people, men, women, and children, of every denomination; and the largeness of
                  the guns, many of them also of brass, which I had never seen before. Here were
                  also shops or stalls of every kind of goods, and people crying their different
                  commodities about the ship as in a town. To me it appeared a little <pb n="119" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p119.jpg"/> world, into which I was again cast
                  with out a friend, for I had no longer my dear companion Dick. We did not stay
                  long here. My master was not many weeks on board before he got an appointment to
                  be sixth lieutenant of the Namur, which was then at spithead, fitting up for
                  Vice-admiral Boscawen, who was going with a large fleet on an expedition against
                  Louisburgh. The crew of the Royal George were turned over to her, and the flag of
                  that gallant admiral was hoisted on board, the blue at the maintop gallant mast
                  head. There was a very great fleet of men of war of every description assembled
                  together for this expedition, and I was in hopes soon to have an opportunity of
                  being gratified with a sea-fight. All things being now in readiness, this mighty
                  fleet (for there was also Admiral Cornish's fleet in company, <pb n="120" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p120.jpg"/> destined for the East Indies) at last
                  weighed anchor, and failed. The two fleets continued in company for several days,
                  and then parted; Admiral Cornish, in the Lenox, having first saluted our admiral
                  in the Namur, which he returned. We then steered for America; but, by contrary
                  winds, we were driven to Teneriffe, where I was struck with its noted peak. Its
                  prodigious height, and its form, resembling a sugar loaf, filled me with wonder.
                  We remained in sight of this island some days, and then proceeded for America,
                  which we soon made, and got into a very commodious harbour called St. George, in
                  Halifax, where we had fish in great plenty, and all other fresh provisions. We
                  were here joined by different men of war and transport ships with soldiers; after
                  which, our fleet being increased to a <pb n="121" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p121.jpg"/> prodigious number of ships of all
                  kinds, we sailed for Cape Breton in Nova Scotia. We had the good and gallant
                  General Wolfe on board our ship, whose affability made him highly esteemed and
                  beloved by all the men. He often honoured me, as well as other boys, with marks of
                  his notice; and saved me once a flogging for fighting with a young gentleman. We
                  arrived at Cape Breton in the summer of 1758: and here the soldiers were to be
                  landed, in order to make an attack upon Louisbourgh. My master had some part in
                  superintending the landing; and here I was in a small measure gratified in seeing
                  an encounter between our men and the enemy. The French were posted on the shore to
                  receive us, and disputed our landing for a long time: but at last they were driven
                  from their trenches, and a complete landing was effected. Our <pb n="122" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p122.jpg"/> troops pursued them as far as the
                  town of Louisbourgh. In this action many were killed on both sides. One thing
                  remarkable I saw this day:—A lieutenant of the Princess Amelia, who, as well as my
                  master, superintended the landing, was giving the word of command, and while his
                  mouth was open a musquet ball went through it, and passed out at his cheek. I had
                  that day in my hand the scalp of an indian king, who was killed in the engagement:
                  the scalp had been taken off by an Highlander. I saw this king's ornaments too,
                  which were very curious, and made of feathers.</p>
               <p>Our land forces laid siege to the town of Louisbourgh, while the French men of war
                  were blocked up in the harbour by the fleet, the batteries at the same time
                  playing upon them from the land. This they did with such effect, that one <pb n="123" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p123.jpg"/> day I saw some of the ships
                  set on fire by the shells from the batteries, and I believe two or three of them
                  were quite burnt. At another time, about fifty boats belonging to the English men
                  of war, commaded by Captain George Belfour of the Aetna fire ship, and Mr. Laforey
                  another junior captain, attacked and boarded the only two remaining French men of
                  war in the harbour. They also set fire to a seventy-gun ship, but a sixty-four,
                  called the Bienfaisant, they brought off. During my stay here I had often an
                  opportunity of being near captain Belfour, who was pleased to notice me, and liked
                  me so much that he often asked my master to let him have me, but he would not part
                  with me; and no consideration could have induced me to leave him. At last
                  Louisbourgh was taken, and the English men of war came into the harbour <pb n="124" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p124.jpg"/> before it, to my very great
                  joy; for I had now more liberty of indulging myself, and I went often on shore.
                  When the ships were in the harbour we had the most beautiful procession on the
                  water I ever saw. All the admirals and captains of the men of war, full dressed,
                  and in their barges, well ornamented with pendants, came alongside of the Namur.
                  The vice-admiral then went on shore in his barge, followed by the other officers
                  in order of seniority, to take possession, as I suppose, of the town and fort.
                  some time after this the French governor and his lady, and other persons of note,
                  came on board our ship to dine. On this occasion our ships were dressed with
                  colours of all kinds, from the topgallant-mast head to the deck; and this, with
                  the firing of guns, formed a most grand and magnificent spectacle.</p>
               <p>
                  <pb n="125" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p125.jpg"/> As soon as every thing here
                  was settled, Admiral Boscawen sailed with part of the fleet for England, leaving
                  some ships behind with Rear admirals Sir Charles Hardy and Durell. It was now
                  winter; and one evening, during our passage home, about dusk, when we were in the
                  channel, or near soundings, and were beginning to look for land, we descried seven
                  sail of large men of war, which stood off shore. Several people on board of our
                  ship said, as the two fleets were (in forty minutes from the first sight) within
                  hail of each other, that they were English men of war; and some of our people even
                  began to name some of the ships. By this time both fleets began to mingle, and our
                  admiral ordered his flag to be hoisted. At that instant the other fleet, which
                  were French, hoisted their ensigns, and gave us a broadside as they <pb n="126" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p126.jpg"/> passed by. Nothing could create
                  greater surprise and confusion among us than this: the wind was high, the sea
                  rough, and we had our lower and middle deck guns housed in, so that not a single
                  gun on board was ready te be fired at any of the French ships. However, the Royal
                  William and the somerset, being our sternmost ships, became a little prepared, and
                  each gave the French ships a broadside as they passed by. I afterwards heard this
                  was a French squadron, commanded by Mons. Conflans; and certainly had the
                  Frenchmen known our condition, and had a mind to fight us, they might have done us
                  great mischief. But we were not long before we were prepared for an engagement.
                  Immediately many things were tossed overboard; the ships were made ready for
                  fighting as soon as possible; and about ten at night we had bent a new <pb n="127" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p127.jpg"/> main sail, the old one being split.
                  Being now in readiness for fighting, we wore ship, and stood after the French
                  fleet, who were one or two ships in number more than we. However we gave them
                  chase, and continued pursuing them all night; and at day-light we saw six of them,
                  all large ships of the line, and an English East Indiaman, a prize they had taken.
                  We chased them all day till between three and four o'clock in the evening, when we
                  came up with, and passed within a musquet shot of one seventy-four gun ship, and
                  the Indiaman also, who now hoisted her colours, but immediately hauled them down
                  again. On this we made a signal for the other ships to take possession of her;
                  and, supposing the man of war would likewise strike, we cheered, but she did not;
                  though if we had fired into her, from being so near, we must have taken her. To my
                  utter surprise, <pb n="128" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p128.jpg"/> the
                  Somerset, who was the next ship a-stern of the Namur, made way like wise; and,
                  thinking they were sure of this French ship, they cheered in the same manner, but
                  still continued to follow us. The French Commodore was about a gun-shot ahead of
                  all, running from us with all speed; and about four o'clock he carried his foretop
                  mast overboard. This caused another loud cheer with us; and a little after the
                  topmast came close by us; but, to our great surprise, instead of coming up with
                  her, we found she went as fast as ever, if not faster. The sea grew now much
                  smoother; and the wind lulling, the seventy-four gun ship we had passed came again
                  by us in the very same direction, and so near, that we heard her people talk as
                  she went by; yet not a shot was fired on either side; and about five or six
                  o'clock, just as it grew dark, she joined her <pb n="129" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p129.jpg"/> commodore. We chased all night; but
                  the next day we were out of sight, so that we saw no more of them; and we only had
                  the old Indiaman (called Carnarvon I think) for our trouble. After this we stood
                  in for the channel, and soon made the land; and, about the close of the year
                  1758-9, we got safe to St. Helen's. Here the Namur ran aground; and also another
                  large ship astern of us; but, by starting our water, and tossing many things
                  overboard to lighten her, we got the ships off without any damage. We stayed for a
                  short time at spithead, and then went into Portsmouth harbour to refit: from
                  whence the admiral went to London; and my master and I soon followed, with a
                  press-gang, as we wanted some hands to complete our complement.</p>
            </div>
            <div n="4" type="chapter">
               <pb n="130" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p130.jpg"/>
               <head>CHAP. IV.</head>
               
                  <p>
                     <hi rend="italic">The author is baptized—Narrowly escapes drowning—Goes on an
                        expedition to the Mediterranean—Incidents he met with there—Is witness to an
                        engagement between some English and French ships—A particular account of the
                        celebrated engagement between Admiral Boscawen and Mons. Le Clue, off Cape
                        Logas, in August</hi> 1759<hi rend="italic">—Dreadful explosion of a French
                        ship—The author sails for England—His master appointed to the command of a
                        fire-ship—Meets a negro boy, from whom he experiences much
                        benevolence—Prepares for an expedition against Belle-Isle—A remarkable story
                        of a disaster which befel his ship—Arrives at Belle-Isle—Operations of the
                        landing</hi>
                     <pb n="131" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p131.jpg"/>
                     <hi rend="italic">and siege—The author's danger and distress, with his manner
                        of extricating himself—Surrender of Belle-Isle—Transactions afterwards on
                        the coast of France—Remarkable instance of kidnapping—The author returns to
                        England—Hears talk of peace, and expects his freedom—His ship sails for
                        Deptford to be paid off, and when he arrives there he is suddenly seized by
                        his master and carried forcibly on board a West India ship and sold.</hi>
                  </p>
               
               <p>IT was now between two and three years since I first came to England, a great part
                  of which I had spent at sea; so that I became inured to that service, and began to
                  consider myself as happily situated; for my master treated me always extremely
                  well; and my attachment and gratitude to him were very great. From the various
                  scenes I had <pb n="132" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p132.jpg"/> beheld on
                  ship-board, I soon grew a stranger to terror of every kind, and was, in that
                  respect at least, almost an Englishman. I have often reflected with surprise that
                  I never felt half the alarm at any of the numerous dangers I have been in, that I
                  was filled with at the first sight of the Europeans, and at every act of theirs,
                  even the most trifling, when I first came among them, and for some time
                  afterwards. That fear, however, which was the effect of my ignorance, wore away as
                  I began to know them. I could now speak English tolerably well, and I perfectly
                  understood every thing that was said. I not only felt myself quite easy with these
                  new countrymen, but relished their society and manners. I no longer looked upon
                  them as spirits, but as men superior to us; and therefore I had the stronger
                  desire to resemble <pb n="133" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p133.jpg"/> them; to
                  imbibe their spirit, and imitate their manners; I therefore embraced every
                  occasion of improvement; and every new thing that I observed I treasured up in my
                  memory. I had long wished to be able to read and write; and for this purpose I
                  took every opportunity to gain instruction, but had made as yet very little
                  progress. However, when I went to London with my master, I had soon an opportunity
                  of improving myself, which I gladly embraced. Shortly after my arrival, he sent me
                  to wait upon the Miss Guerins, who had treated me with much kindness when I was
                  there before; and they sent me to school.</p>
               <p>While I was attending these ladies, their servants told me I could not go to
                  Heaven, unless I was baptized. This made me very uneasy; for I had now some faint
                  idea of a future state: <pb n="134" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p134.jpg"/>
                  accordingly I communicated my anxiety to the eldest Miss Guerin, with whom I was
                  become a favourite, and pressed her to have me baptized; when to my great joy, she
                  told me I should. She had formerly asked my master to let me be baptized, but he
                  had refused; however she now insisted on it; and he being under some obligation to
                  her brother complied with her request; so I was baptized in St. Margaret's church,
                  Westminster, in February 1759, by my present name. The clergyman at the same time,
                  gave me a book, called a Guide to the Indians, written by the Bishop of Sodor and
                  Man. On this occasion, Miss Guerin did me the honour to stand as godmother, and
                  afterwards gave me a treat. I used to attend these ladies about the town, in which
                  service I was extremely happy; as I had thus many opportunities of <pb n="135" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p135.jpg"/> seeing London, which I desired of all
                  things. I was sometimes, however, with my master at his rendezvous-house, which
                  was at the foot of Westminster-Bridge. Here I used to enjoy myself in playing
                  about the bridge stairs, and often in the watermen's wherries, with other boys. On
                  one of these occasions there was another boy with me in a wherry, and we went out
                  into the current of the river: while we were there, two more stout boys came to us
                  in another wherry, and, abusing us for taking the boat, desired me to get into the
                  other wherry-boat. Accordingly I went to get out of the wherry I was in; but just
                  as I had got one of my feet into the other boat, the boys shoved it off, so that I
                  fell into the Thames; and, not being able to swim, I should unavoidably have been
                  drowned, but for the assistance of some <pb n="136" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p136.jpg"/> watermen who providentially came to
                  my relief.</p>
               <p>The Namur being again got ready for sea, my master, with his gang, was ordered on
                  board; and, to my no small grief, I was obliged to leave my schoolmaster, whom I
                  liked very much, and always attended while I stayed in London, to repair on board
                  with my master. Nor did I leave my kind patronesses, the Miss Guerins, without
                  uneasiness and regret. They often used to teach me to read, and took great pains
                  to instruct me in the principles of religion and the knowledge of God. I therefore
                  parted from those amiable ladies with reluctance: after receiving from them many
                  friendly cautions how to conduct myself, and some valuable presents.</p>
               <p>When I came to Spithead, I found we were destined for the Mediterranean, <pb n="137" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p137.jpg"/> with a large fleet, which was
                  now ready to put to sea. We only waited for the arrival of the admiral, who soon
                  came on board; and about the beginning of the spring 1759, having weighed anchor,
                  and got under way, sailed for the Mediterranean; and in eleven days, from the
                  Land's End, we got to Gibraltar. While we were here I used to be often on shore,
                  and got various fruits in great plenty, and very cheap.</p>
               <p>I had frequently told several people, in my excursions on shore, the story of my
                  being kidnapped with my sister, and of our being separated, as I have related
                  before; and I had as often expressed my anxiety for her fate, and my sorrow at
                  having never met her again. One day, when I was on shore, and mentioning these
                  circumstances to some persons, one of them told me he knew <pb n="138" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p138.jpg"/> where my sister was, and, if I would
                  accompany him, he would bring me to her. Improbable as this story was, I believed
                  it immediately, and agreed to go with him, while my heart leaped for joy; and,
                  indeed, he conducted me to a black young woman, who was so like my sister, that at
                  first sight, I really thought it was her: but I was quickly undeceived; and, on
                  talking to her, I found her to be of another nation.</p>
               <p>While we lay here the Preston came in from the Levant. As soon as she arrived, my
                  master told me I should now see my old companion, Dick, who was gone in her when
                  she sailed for Turkey. I was much rejoiced at this news, and expected every minute
                  to embrace him; and when the captain came on board of our ship, which he did
                  immediately after, I ran to inquire after my friend; but, with inexpressible <pb n="139" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p139.jpg"/> sorrow, I learned from the
                  boat's crew that the dear youth was dead! and that they had brought his chest, and
                  all his other things, to my master: these he afterwards gave to me, and I regarded
                  them as a memorial of my friend, whom I loved, and grieved for, as a brother.</p>
               <p>While we were at Gibralter, I saw a soldier hanging by the heels, at one of the
                  <ref target="moles_" corresp="moles">moles*</ref>
                                <note xml:id="moles" target="moles_">*He had drowned himself in endeavouring to desert. [Equiano's note] "Moles" are large stone piers or wharfs.</note>: I thought this a strange sight, as I had seen a man hanged in London by
                  his neck. At another time I saw the master of a frigate towed to shore on a
                  grating, by several of the men of war's boats, and discharged the fleet, which I
                  understood was a mark of disgrace for cowardice. On board the same ship there was
                  also a sailor hung up at the yard-arm.</p>
               <p>After lying at Gibralter for some
                  <pb n="140" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p140.jpg"/> time, we sailed up the
                  Mediterranean a considerable way above the Gulf of Lyons; where we were one night
                  overtaken with a terrible gale of wind, much greater than any I had ever yet
                  experienced. The sea ran so high that, though all the guns were well housed, there
                  was great reason to fear their getting loose, the ship rolled so much; and if they
                  had it must have proved our destruction. After we had cruised here for a short
                  time, we came to Barcelona, a Spanish sea-port, remarkable for its silk
                  manufactures. Here the ships were all to be watered; and my master, who spoke
                  different languages, and used often to interpret for the admiral, superintended
                  the watering of ours. For that purpose he and the officers of the other ships, who
                  were on the same service, had tents pitched in the bay; and the Spanish soldiers
                  were stationed along the shore, I suppose <pb n="141" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p141.jpg"/> to see that no depredations were
                  committed by our men.</p>
               <p>I used constantly to attend my master; and I was charmed with this place. All the
                  time we stayed it was like a fair with the natives, who brought us fruits of all
                  kinds, and sold them to us much cheaper than I got them in England. They used also
                  to bring wine down to us in hog and sheep skins, which diverted me very much. The
                  Spanish officers here treated our officers with great politeness and attention;
                  and some of them, in particular, used to come often to my master's tent to visit
                  him; where they would sometimes divert themselves by mounting me on the horses or
                  mules, so that I could not fall, and setting them off at full gallop; my imperfect
                  skill in horsemanship all the while affording them no small entertainment. After
                  the ships were <pb n="142" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p142.jpg"/> watered, we
                  returned to our old station of cruizing off Toulon, for the purpose of
                  intercepting a fleet of French men of war that lay there. One Sunday, in our
                  cruise, we came off a place where there were two small French frigates lying in
                  shore; and our admiral, thinking to take or destroy them, sent two ships in after
                  them—the Culloden and the Conqueror. They soon came up to the Frenchmen; and I saw
                  a smart fight here, both by sea and land: for the frigates were covered by bat
                  teries, and they played upon our ships most furiously, which they as furiously
                  returned, and for a long time a constant firing was kept up on all sides at an
                  amazing rate. At last one frigate sunk; but the people escaped, though not without
                  much difficulty: and a little after some of the people left the other frigate
                  also, which was a mere <pb n="143" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p143.jpg"/>
                  wreck. However, our ships did not venture to bring her away, they were so much
                  annoyed from the batteries, which raked them both in going and coming: their
                  topmasts were shot a way, and they were otherwise so much shattered, that the
                  admiral was obliged to send in many boats to tow them back to the fleet. I
                  afterwards sailed with a man who fought in one of the French batteries during the
                  engagement, and he told me our ships had done considerable mischief that day on
                  shore and in the batteries.</p>
               <p>After this we sailed for Gibraltar, and arrived there about August 1759. Here we
                  remained with all our sails unbent, while the fleet was watering and doing other
                  necessary things. While we were in this situation, one day the admiral, with most
                  of the principal officers, and many people of all stations, <pb n="144" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p144.jpg"/> being on shore, about seven o'clock
                  in the evening we were alarmed by signals from the frigates stationed for that
                  purpose; and in an instant there was a general cry that the French fleet was out,
                  and just passing through the streights. The admiral immediately came on board with
                  some other officers; and it is impossible to describe the noise, hurry and
                  confusion throughout the whole fleet, in bending their sails and slipping their
                  cables; many people and ships' boats were left on shore in the bustle. We had two
                  captains on board of our ship who came away in the hurry and left their ships to
                  follow. We shewed lights from the gun-wales to the main top mast-head; and all our
                  lieutenants were employed amongst the fleet to tell the ships not to wait for ther
                  captains, but to put the sails to the yards, slip their cables <pb n="145" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p145.jpg"/> and follow us; and in this confusion
                  of making ready for fighting, we set out for sea in the dark after the French
                  fleet. Here I could have exclaimed with Ajax,<quote>
                     <lg>
                        <l>"Oh Jove! O father! if it be thy will</l>
                        <l>"That we must perish, we thy will obey,</l>
                        <l>"But let us perish by the light of day."</l>
                     </lg>
                  </quote> They had got the start of us so far that we were not able to come up with
                  them during the night; but at day-light we saw seven sail of the line of battle
                  some miles ahead. We immediately chased them till about four o'clock in the
                  evening, when our ships came up with them; and, though we were about fifteen large
                  ships, our gallant admiral only fought them with his own division, which consisted
                  of seven; so that we were just ship for ship. We passed by the whole of the
                  enemy's fleet in order to come at their commander, <pb n="146" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p146.jpg"/> Mons. La Clue, who was in the Ocean,
                  an eighty-four gun ship: as we passed they all fired on us; and at one time three
                  of them fired together, continuing to do so for some time. Notwithstanding which
                  our admiral would not suffer a gun to be fired at any of them, to my astonishment;
                  but made us lie on our bellies on the deck till we came quite close to the Ocean,
                  who was ahead of them all; when we had orders to pour the whole three tiers into
                  her at once.</p>
               <p>The engagement now commenced with great fury on both sides: the Ocean immediately
                  returned our fire, and we continued engaged with each other for some time; during
                  which I was frequently stunned with the thundering of the great guns, whose
                  dreadful contents hurried many of my companions into awful eternity. At last the
                  French <pb n="147" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p147.jpg"/> line was entirely
                  broken, and we obtained the victory, which was immediately proclaimed with loud
                  huzzas and acclamations. We took three prizes, La Modeste, of sixty-four guns, and
                  Le Temeraire and Centaur, of seventy-four guns each. The rest of the French ships
                  took to flight with all the sail they could crowd. Our ship being very much
                  damaged, and quite disabled from pursuing the enemy, the admiral immediately
                  quitted her, and went in the broken and only boat we had left on board the Newark,
                  with which, and some other ships, he went after the French. The Ocean, and another
                  large French ship, called the Redoubtable, endeavouring to escape, ran ashore at
                  Cape Logas, on the coast of Portugal; and the French admiral and some of the crew
                  got ashore; but we, finding it impossible to get the ships <pb n="148" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p148.jpg"/> off, set fire to them both. About
                  midnight I saw the Ocean blow up, with a most dreadful explosion. I never beheld a
                  more awful scene. In less than a minute, the midnight for a certain space seemed
                  turned into day by the blaze, which was attended with a noise louder and more
                  terrible than thunder, that seemed to rend every element around us.</p>
               <p>My station during the engagement was on the middle-deck, where I was quartered
                  with another boy, to bring powder to the aftermost gun; and here I was a witness
                  of the dreadful fate of many of my companions, who, in the twinkling of an eye,
                  were dashed in pieces, and launched into eternity. Happily I escaped unhurt,
                  though the shot and splinters flew thick about me during the whole fight. Towards
                  the latter part of it my master was wounded, <pb n="149" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p149.jpg"/> and I saw him carried down to the
                  surgeon; but though I was much alarmed for him and wished to assist him I dared
                  not leave my post. At this station my gun-mate (a partner in bringing powder for
                  the same gun) and I ran a very great risk for more than half an hour of blowing up
                  the ship. For, when we had taken the cartridges out of the boxes, the bottoms of
                  many of them proving rotten, the powder ran all about the deck, near the match
                  tub: we scarcely had water enough at the last to throw on it. We were also, from
                  our employment, very much exposed to the enemy's shots; for we had to go through
                  nearly the whole length of the ship to bring the powder. I expected therefore
                  every minute to be my last; especially when I saw our men fall so thick about me;
                  but, wishing to guard as much against <pb n="150" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p150.jpg"/> the dangers as possible, at first I
                  thought it would be safest not to go for the powder till the Frenchmen had fired
                  the broadside; and then, while they were charging, I could go and come with my
                  powder: but immediately afterwards I thought this caution was fruitless; and,
                  cheering myself with the reflection that there was a time allotted for me to die
                  as well as to be born, I instantly cast off all fear or thought whatever of death,
                  and went through the whole of my duty with alacrity; pleasing myself with the
                  hope, if I survived the battle, of relating it and the dangers I had escaped to
                  the Miss Guerins, and others, when I should return to London.</p>
               <p>Our ship suffered very much in this engagement; for, besides the number of our
                  killed and wounded, she was almost torn to pieces, and our rigging so <pb n="151" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p151.jpg"/> much shattered, that our mizen-mast,
                  main-yard, &amp;c. hung over the side of the ship; so that we were obliged to get
                  many carpenters, and others from some of the ships of the fleet, to assist in
                  setting us in some tolerable order; and, notwithstanding which, it took us some
                  time before we were completely refitted; after which we lest Admiral Broderick to
                  command, and we, with the prizes steered for England. On the passage, and as soon
                  as my master was something recovered of his wounds, the admiral appointed him
                  captain of the Aetna fire-ship, on which he and I left the Namur, and went on
                  board of her at sea. I liked this little ship very much. I now became the
                  captain's steward, in which situation I was very happy: for I was extremely well
                  treated by all on board; and I had leisure to improve myself in <pb n="152" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p152.jpg"/> reading and writing. The latter I had
                  learned a little of before I left the Namur, as there was a school on board. When
                  we arrived at Spithead, the Aetna went into Portsmouth harbour to refit, which
                  being done, we returned to Spithead and joined a large fleet that was thought to
                  be intended against the Havannah; but about that time the king died; whether that
                  prevented the expedition I know not; but it caused our ship to be stationed at
                  Cowes, in the isle of Wight, till the beginning of the year sixty-one. Here I
                  spent my time very pleasantly; I was much on shore all about this delightful
                  island, and found the inhabitants very civil.</p>
               <p>While I was here, I met with a trifling incident, which surprised me agreeably. I
                  was one day in a field belonging to a gentleman who had a black boy about my own
                  size; this boy <pb n="153" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p153.jpg"/> having
                  observed me from his master's house, was transported at the sight of one of his
                  own countrymen, and ran to meet me with the utmost haste. I not knowing what he
                  was about, turned a little out of his way at first, but to no purpose: he soon
                  came close to me and caught hold of me in his arms as if I had been his brother,
                  though we had never seen each other before. After we had talked together for some
                  time he took me to his master's house, where I was treated very kindly. This
                  benevolent boy and I were very happy in frequently seeing each other till about
                  the month of March 1761, when our ship had orders to fit out again for another
                  expedition. When we got ready, we joined a very large fleet at spithead, commanded
                  by Commodore Keppel, which was destined against Belle-Isle, and with a number of
                  transport <pb n="154" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p154.jpg"/> ships with troops
                  on board to make a descent on the place, we sailed once more in quest of fame. I
                  longed to engage in new adventures and see fresh wonders.</p>
               <p>I had a mind on which every thing uncommon made its full impression, and every
                  event which I considered as marvellous. Every extraordinary escape, or signal
                  deliverance, either of myself or others, I looked upon to be effected by the
                  interposition of Providence. We had not been above ten days at sea before an
                  incident of this kind happened; which, whatever credit it may obtain from the
                  reader, made no small impression on my mind.</p>
               <p>We had on board a gunner, whose name was John Mondle; a man of very indifferent
                  morals. This man's cabin was between the decks, exactly over where I lay, abreast
                  of the quarter-deck <pb n="155" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p155.jpg"/>ladder.
                  One night, the 5th of April, being terrified with a dream, he awoke in so great a
                  fright that he could not rest in his bed any longer, nor even remain in his cabin;
                  and he went upon deck about four o'clock in the morning extremely agitated. He
                  immediately told those on the deck of the agonies of his mind, and the dream which
                  occasioned it; in which he said he had seen many things very awful, and had been
                  warned by St. Peter to repent, who told him time was short. This he said had
                  greatly alarmed him, and he was determined to alter his life. People generally
                  mock the fears of others when they are themselves in safety; and some of his
                  shipmates who heard him only laughed at him. However, he made a vow that he never
                  would drink strong liquors again; and he immediately got a light, and gave away
                  his sea-stores <pb n="156" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p156.jpg"/> of liquor.
                  After which, his agitation still continuing, he began to read the scriptures,
                  hoping to find some relief; and soon afterwards he laid himself down again on his
                  bed, and endeavoured to compose himself to sleep, but to no purpose; his mind
                  still continuing in a state of agony. By this time it was exactly half after seven
                  in the morning: I was then under the half-deck at the great cabin door; and all at
                  once I heard the people in the waist cry out, most fearfully—'The Lord have mercy upon us! We are all lost! The
                     Lord have mercy upon us!' Mr. Mondle hearing the cries, immediately ran
                  out of his cabin; and we were instantly struck by the Lynne, a fortygun ship,
                  Captain Clark, which nearly ran us down. This ship had just put about, and was by
                  the wind, but had not got full headway, or we must all <pb n="157" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p157.jpg"/> have perished; for the wind was
                  brisk. However, before Mr Mondle had got four steps from his cabin door, she
                  struck our ship with her cutwater right in the middle of his bed and cabin, and
                  ran it up to the combings of the quarter deck hatchway, and above three feet below
                  water, and in a minute there was not a bit of wood to be seen where Mr. Mondle's
                  cabin stood; and he was so near being killed that some of the splinters tore his
                  face. As Mr. Mondle must inevitably have perished from this accident had he not
                  been alarmed in the very extraordinary way I have related, I could not help
                  regarding this as an awful interposition of Providence for his preservation. The
                  two ships for some time swinged alongside of each other; for ours being a
                  fireship, our grappling-irons caught the Lynne every way, and the yards and
                  rigging <pb n="158" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p158.jpg"/> went at an
                  astonishing rate. Our ship was in such a shocking condition that we all thought
                  she would instantly go down, and every one ran for their lives, and got as well as
                  they could on board the Lynne; but our lieutenant being the aggressor, he never
                  quitted the ship. However, when we found she did not sink immediately, the captain
                  came on board again, and encouraged our people to return and try to save her. Many
                  on this came back, but some would not venture. some of the ships in the fleet,
                  seeing our situation; immediately sent their boats to our assistance; but it took
                  us the whole day to save the ship with all their help. And by using every possible
                  means, particularly frapping her together with many hawsers, and putting a great
                  quantity of tallow below water where she was damaged, she was kept together: <pb n="159" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p159.jpg"/> but it was well we did not
                  meet with any gales of wind, or we must have gone to pieces; for we were in such a
                  crazy condition that we had ships to attend us till we arrived at Belle-Isle, the
                  place of our destination; and then we had all things taken out of the ship, and
                  she was properly repaired. This escape of Mr. Mondle, which he, as well as myself,
                  always considered as a singular act of Providence, I believe had a great influence
                  on his life and conduct ever afterwards.</p>
               <p>Now that I am on this subject I beg leave to relate another instance or two which
                  strongly raised my belief of the particular interposition of Heaven, and which
                  might not otherways have found a place here, from their insignificance. I belonged
                  for a few days in the year 1758, to the Jason, of fifty-four guns, at Plymouth;
                  and one night, when I <pb n="160" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p160.jpg"/> was on
                  board, a woman, with a child at her breast, fell from the upper-deck down into the
                  hold, near the keel. Every one thought that the mother and child must be both
                  dashed to pieces; but, to our great surprise, neither of them was hurt. I myself
                  one day fell headlong from the upper-deck of the Aetna down the after-hold, when
                  the ballast was out; and all who saw me fall cried out I was killed: but I
                  received not the least injury. And in the same ship a man fell from the masthead
                  on the deck without being hurt. In these, and in many more instances, I thought I
                  could plainly trace the hand of God, without whose permission a sparrow cannot
                  fall. I began to raise my fear from man to him alone, and to call daily on his
                  holy name with fear and reverence: and I trust he heard my supplications, and
                  graciously <pb n="161" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p161.jpg"/> condescended to
                  answer me according to his holy word, and to implant the seeds of piety in me,
                  even one of the meanest of his creatures.</p>
               <p>When we had refitted our ship, and all things were in readiness for attacking the
                  place, the troops on board the transports were ordered to disembark; and my master
                  as a junior captain, had a share in the command of the landing. This was on the
                  12th of April. The French were drawn up on the shore, and had made every
                  disposition to oppose the landing of our men, only a small part of them this day
                  being able to effect it; most of them, after fighting with great bravery, were cut
                  off; and General Crawford, with a number of others, were taken prisoners. In this
                  day's engagement we had also our lieutenant killed.</p>
               <p>On the 21st of April we renewed our <pb n="162" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p162.jpg"/> efforts to land the men, while all
                  the men of war were stationed along the shore to cover it, and fired at the French
                  batteries and breast works from early in the morning till about four o'clock in
                  the evening, when our soldiers effected a safe landing. They immediately attacked
                  the French; and, after a sharp encounter, forced them from the batteries. Before
                  the enemy retreated they blew up several of them, lest they should fall into our
                  hands. Our men now proceeded to besiege the citadel, and my master was ordered on
                  shore to superintend the landing of all the materials necessary for carrying on
                  the siege; in which service I mostly attended him. While I was there I went about
                  to different parts of the island; and one day, particularly, my curiosity almost
                  cost me my life. I wanted very much to see the mode of charging the <pb n="163" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p163.jpg"/> mortars and letting off the shells,
                  and for that purpose I went to an English battery that was but a very few yards
                  from the walls of the citadel. There, indeed, I had an opportunity of completely
                  gratifying myself in seeing the whole operation, and that not without running a
                  very great risk, both from the English shells that burst while I was there, but
                  likewise from those of the French. One of the largest of their shells bursted
                  within nine or ten yards of me: there was a single rock close by, about the size
                  of a butt; and I got instant shelter under it in time to avoid the fury of the
                  shell. Where it burst the earth was torn in such a manner that two or three butts
                  might easily have gone into the hole it made, and it threw great quantities of
                  stones and dirt to a considerable distance. Three shot were also fired at me and
                  another <pb n="164" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p164.jpg"/> boy who was along
                  with me, one of them in particular seemed<quote>
                     <lg>
                        <l>"Wing'd with red lightning and impetuous rage;"</l>
                     </lg>
                  </quote> for with a most dreadfull sound it hissed close by me, and struck a rock
                  at a little distance, which it shattered to pieces. When I saw what perilous
                  circumstances I was in, I attempted to return the nearest way I could find, and
                  thereby I got between the English and the French centinels. An English serjeant,
                  who commanded the outposts, seeing me, and surprised how I came there, (which was
                  by stealth along the seashore), reprimanded me very severely for it, and instantly
                  took the centinel off his post into custody, for his negligence in suffering me to
                  pass the lines. While I was in this situation I observed at a little distance a
                  French horse, belonging to some islanders, which I thought I would now mount, <pb n="165" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p165.jpg"/> for the greater expedition of
                  getting off. Accordingly I took some cord which I had about me, and making a kind
                  of bridle of it, I put it round the horse's head, and the tame beast very quietly
                  suffered me to tie him thus and mount him. As soon as I was on the horse's back I
                  began to kick and beat him, and try every means to make him go quick, but all to
                  very little purpose: I could not drive him out of a slow pace. While I was
                  creeping along, still within reach of the enemy's shot, I met with a servant well
                  mounted on an English horse, I immediately stopped; and, crying, told him my case;
                  and begged of him to help me, and this he effectually did; for, having a fine
                  large whip, he began to lash my horse with it so severely, that he set off full
                  speed with me towards the sea, while I was quite unable to hold or manage him. In
                     <pb n="166" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p166.jpg"/> this manner I went along
                  till I came to a craggy precipice. I now could not stop my horse; and my mind was
                  filled with apprehensions of my deplorable fate should he go down the precipice,
                  which he appeared fully disposed to do: I therefore thought I had better throw
                  myself off him at once, which I did immediately with a great deal of dexterity,
                  and fortunately escaped unhurt. As soon as I found myself at liberty I made the
                  best of my way for the ship, determined I would not be so fool-hardy again in a
                  hurry.</p>
               <p>We continued to besiege the citadel till June, when it surrendered. During the
                  siege I have counted above sixty shells and carcases in the air at once. When this
                  place was taken I went through the citadel, and in the bombproofs under it, which
                  were cut in the solid rock; and I thought it a surprising <pb n="167" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p167.jpg"/> place, both for strength and
                  building: notwithstanding which our shots and shells had made amazing devastation,
                  and ruinous heaps all around it.</p>
               <p>After the taking of this island, our ships with some others commanded by commodore
                  Stanhope in the Swiftsure, went to Basse-road, where we blocked up a French fleet.
                  Our ships were there from June till February following; and in that time I saw a
                  great many scenes of war, and stratagems on both sides to destroy each others
                  fleet. Sometimes we would attack the French with some ships of the line; at other
                  times with boats; and frequently we made prizes. Once or twice the French attacked
                  us by throwing shells with their bomb-vessels; and one day as a French vessel was
                  throwing shells at our ships she broke from her springs, behind the isle of I de
                  Re: the tide being <pb n="168" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p168.jpg"/>
                  complicated, she came within a gun shot of the Nassau; but the Nassau could not
                  bring a gun to bear upon her, and thereby the Frenchman got off. We were twice
                  attacked by their fire floats, which they chained together, and then let them
                  float down with the tide; but each time we sent boats with graplings, and towed
                  them safe out of the fleet.</p>
               <p>We had different commanders while we were at this place, Commodores Stanhope,
                  Dennis, Lord Howe, &amp;c. From hence, before the Spanish war began, our ship and
                  the Wasp sloop were sent to St. Sebastian in Spain, by Commodore Stanhope; and
                  Commodore Dennis afterwards sent our ship as a cartel to <ref target="Bayonne_" corresp="Bayonne">Bayonne in France*</ref>
                                <note xml:id="Bayonne" target="Bayonne_">* Among others whom we brought
                     from Bayonne, were two gentlemen, who had been in the West Indies, where they sold slaves; and they confessed they had made at one time a false bill of sale, and sold two Portuguese white men among a lot of
                     slaves. [Equiano's note]</note>, after
                  <pb n="169" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p169.jpg"/> <ref target="which_" corresp="which">which †</ref>
                                <note xml:id="which" target="which_">† Some people have it, that sometimes shortly before
                     persons die, their ward has been seen; that is, some spirit exactly in their
                     likeness, though they are themselves at other places at the same time. One
                     day while we were at Bayonne, Mr. Mondle saw one of our men, as he thought,
                     in the gun-room; and a little after, coming on the quarter-deck, he spoke of
                     some circumstances of this man to some of the officers. They told him that
                     the man was then out of the ship, in one of the boats with the Lieutenant:
                     but Mr. Mondle would not believe it, and we searched the ship, when he found
                     the man was actually out of her; and when the boat returned some time
                     afterwards, we found the man had been drowned at the very time Mr. Mondle
                     thought he saw him. [Equiano's note] </note> we went in February
                  in 1762, to Belle-Isle, and there stayed till the summer, when we lest it, and
                  returned to Portsmouth.</p>
               <p>After our ship was fitted out again for service, in September she went to
                  Guernsey, where I was very glad to see 
                
                  <pb n="170" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p170.jpg"/> my old hostess, who was now
                  a widow, and my former little charming companion, her daughter. I spent some time
                  here very happily with them, till October, when we had orders to repair to
                  Portsmouth. We parted from each other with a great deal of affection; and I
                  promised to return soon, and see them again; not knowing what all-powerful fate
                  had determined for me. Our ship having arrived at Portsmouth, we went into the
                  harbour, and remained there till the latter end of November, when we heard great
                  talk about a peace; and, to our very great joy, in the beginning of December we
                  had orders to go up to London with our ship to be paid off. We received this news
                  with loud huzzas, and every other demonstration of gladness; and nothing but mirth
                  was to be seen throughout every part of the <pb n="171" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p171.jpg"/> ship. I too was not without my share
                  of the general joy on this occasion. I thought now of nothing but being freed, and
                  working for myself, and thereby getting money to enable me to get a good
                  education; for I always had a great desire to be able at least to read and write;
                  and while I was on ship-board I had endeavoured to improve myself in both. While I
                  was in the Aetna particularly, the captain's clerk taught me to write, and gave me
                  a smattering of arithmetic as far as the rule of three. There was also one Daniel
                  Queen, about forty years of age, a man very well educated, who messed with me on
                  board this ship, and he likewise dressed and attended the captain. Fortunately
                  this man soon became very much attached to me, and took very great pains to
                  instruct me in many things. He taught <pb n="172" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p172.jpg"/> me to shave and dress hair a little,
                  and also to read in the Bible, explaining many passages to me, which I did not
                  comprehend. I was wonderfully surprised to see the laws and rules of my own
                  country written almost exactly here; a circumstance which I believe tended to
                  impress our manners and customs more deeply on my memory. I used to tell him of
                  this resemblance; and many a time we have sat up the whole night together at this
                  employment. In short, he was like a father to me; and some even used to call me
                  after his name; they also styled me the black Christian. Indeed I almost loved him
                  with the affection of a son. Many things I have denied myself that he might have
                  them; and when I used to play at marbles or any other game, and won a few
                  halfpence, or got any little money, which I sometimes <pb n="173" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p173.jpg"/>did, for shaving any one, I used to
                  buy him a little sugar or tobacco, as far as my stock of money would go. He used
                  to say, that he and I never should part; and that when our ship was paid off, as I
                  was as free as himself or any other man on board, he would instruct me in his
                  business, by which I might gain a good livelihood. This gave me new life and
                  spirits; and my heart burned within me, while I thought the time long till I
                  obtained my freedom. For though my master had not promised it to me, yet, besides
                  the assurances I had received that he had no right to detain me, he always treated
                  me with the greatest kindness, and reposed in me an unbounded confidence; he even
                  paid attention to my morals; and would never suffer me to deceive him, or tell
                  lies, of which he used to tell me the consequences; and <pb n="174" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p174.jpg"/> that if I did so God would not love
                  me; so that from all this tenderness, I had never once supposed, in all my dreams
                  of freedom, that he would think of detaining me any longer than I wished.</p>
               <p>In pursuance of our orders we sailed from Portsmouth for the Thames, and arrived
                  at Deptford the 10th of December, where we cast anchor just as it was high water.
                  The ship was up about half an hour, when my master ordered the barge to be manned;
                  and all in an instant, without having before given me the least reason to suspect
                  any thing of the matter, he forced me into the barge; saying, I was going to leave
                  him, but he would take care I should not. I was so struck with the unexpectedness
                  of this proceeding, that for some time I did not make a reply, only I made an
                  offer to go for my <pb n="175" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p175.jpg"/> books and
                  chest of clothes, but he swore I should not move out of his sight; and if I did he
                  would cut my throat, at the same time taking his hanger. I began, however, to
                  collect myself; and, plucking up courage, I told him I was free, and he could not
                  by law serve me so. But this only enraged him the more; and he continued to swear,
                  and said he would soon let me know whether he would or not, and at that instant
                  sprung himself into the barge from the ship, to the astonishment and sorrow of all
                  on board. The tide, rather unluckily for me, had just turned downward, so that we
                  quickly fell down the river along with it, till we came among some outward-bound
                  West Indiamen; for he was resolved to put me on board the first vessel he could
                  get to receive me. The boat's crew, who pulled against <pb n="176" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p176.jpg"/>their will, became quite faint
                  different times, and would have gone ashore; but he would not let them. Some of
                  them strove then to cheer me, and told me he could not sell me, and that they
                  would stand by me, which revived me a little; and I still entertained hopes; for
                  as they pulled along he asked some vessels to receive me, but they would not. But,
                  just as we had got a little below Gravesend, we came alongside of a ship which was
                  going away the next tide for the West Indies; her name was the Charming Sally,
                  Captain James Doran; and my master went on board and agreed with him for me; and
                  in a little time I was sent sor into the cabin. When I came there Captain Doran
                  asked me if I knew him: I answered that I did not; 'Then,' said he, 'you are now my
                     slave.' I told him my master could not sell me <pb n="177" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p177.jpg"/> to him, nor to any one else. 'Why,' said he, 'did not
                     your master buy you?' I confessed he did. 'But I have served him,' said I,'many years, and he has taken all my wages and
                     prize-money, for I only got one sixpence during the war; besides this I have
                     been baptized; and by the laws of the land no man has a right to sell
                     me:' And I added, that I had heard a lawyer and others at different
                  times tell my master so. They both then said that those people who told me so were not my friends; but I replied—'It was very
                     extraordinary that other people did not know the law as well as they.'
                  Upon this Captain Doran said I talked too much English; and if I did not behave
                  myself well, and be quiet, he had a method on board to make me. I was too well
                  convinced of his power over me to doubt what he said; <pb n="178" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p178.jpg"/> and my former sufferings in the
                  slaveship presenting themselves to my mind, the recollection of them made me
                  shudder. However, before I retired I told them that as I could not get any right
                  among men here I hoped I should hereafter in Heaven; and I immediately left the
                  cabin, filled with resentment and sorrow. The only coat I had with me my master
                  took away with him, and said, "If your
                     prize-money had been 10,000l. I had a right to it all, and would have taken
                     it.' I had about nine guineas, which, during my long sea-faring life, I
                  had scraped together from trifling perquisites and little ventures; and I hid it
                  that instant, lest my master should take that from me likewise, still hoping that
                  by some means or other I should make my escape to the shore; and indeed some of my
                  old snipmates told me not to <pb n="179" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p179.jpg"/>
                  despair, for they would get me back again; and that, as soon as they could get
                  their pay, they would immediately come to Portsmouth to me, where this ship was
                  going: but, alas! all my hopes were baffled, and the hour of my deliverance was as
                  yet far off. My master, having soon concluded his bargain with the captain, came
                  out of the cabin, and he and his people got into the boat and put off; I followed
                  them with aching eyes as long as I could, and when they were out of sight I threw
                  myself on the deck, with a heart ready to burst with sorrow and anguish.</p>
            </div>
            <div n="5" type="chapter">
               <pb n="180" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p180.jpg"/>
               <head>CHAP. V.</head>
               
                  <p>
                     <hi rend="italic">The author's reflections on his situation—Is deceived by a
                        promise of being delivered—His despair at sailing for the West
                        Indies—Arrives at Montserrat, where he is sold to Mr. King—Various in
                        teresting instances of oppression, cruelty, and extortion, which the author
                        saw practised upon the slaves in the West Indies during his captivity from
                        the year</hi> 1763 <hi rend="italic">to</hi> 1766<hi rend="italic">—Address
                        on it to the planters.</hi>
                  </p>
               
               <p>THUS, at the moment I expected all my toils to end, was I plunged, as I supposed,
                  in a new slavery; in comparison of which all my service hitherto <pb n="181" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p181.jpg"/> had been perfect freedom; and whose
                  horrors, always present to my mind, now rushed on it with tenfold aggravation. I
                  wept very bitterly for some time: and began to think that I must have done
                  something to displease the Lord, that he thus punished me so severely. This filled
                  me with painful reflections on my past conduct; I recollected that on the morning
                  of our arrival at Deptford I had rashly sworn that as soon as we reached London I
                  would spend the day in rambling and sport. My conscience smote me for this
                  unguarded expression: I felt that the Lord was able to disappoint me in all
                  things, and immediately considered my present situation as a judgment of Heaven on
                  account of my presumption in swearing: I therefore, with contrition of heart,
                  acknowledged my transgression to God, and poured out <pb n="182" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p182.jpg"/> my soul before him with unfeigned
                  repentance, and with earnest supplications I besought him not to abandon me in my
                  distress, nor cast me from his mercy for ever. In a little time my grief, spent
                  with its own violence, began to subside; and after the first confusion of my
                  thoughts was over I reflected with more calmness on my present condition: I
                  considered that trials and disappointments are sometimes for our good, and I
                  thought God might perhaps have permitted this in order to teach me wisdom and
                  resignation; for he had hitherto shadowed me with the wings of his mercy, and by
                  his invisible but powerful hand brought me the way I knew not. These reflections
                  gave me a little comfort, and I rose at last from the deck with dejection and
                  sorrow in my countenance, yet mixed with some faint hope that <pb n="183" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p183.jpg"/> the <hi rend="italic">Lord would
                     appear</hi> for my deliverance.</p>
               <p>soon afterwards, as my new master was going on shore, he called me to him, and
                  told me to behave myself well, and do the business of the ship the same as any of
                  the rest of the boys, and that I should fare the better for it; but I made him no
                  answer. I was then asked If I could swim, and I said, No, however I was made to
                  go under the deck, and was well watched. The next tide the ship got under way, and
                  soon after arrived at the Mother Bank, Portsmouth; where she waited a few days for
                  some of the West India convoy. While I was here I tried every means I could devise
                  amongst the people of the ship to get me a boat from the shore, as there was none
                  suffered to come alongside of the ship; and their own, whenever it was used, <pb n="184" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p184.jpg"/> was hoisted in again
                  immediately. A sailor on board took a guinea from me on pretence of getting me a
                  boat; and promised me, time after time, that it was hourly to come off. When he
                  had the watch upon deck I watched also; and looked long enough, but all in vain; I
                  could never see either the boat or my guinea again. And what I thought was still
                  the worst of all, the fellow gave information, as I afterwards found, all the
                  while to the mates, of my intention to go off, if I could in any way do it; but,
                  rogue like, he never told them he had got a guinea from me to procure my escape.
                  However, after we had sailed, and his trick was made known to the ship's crew, I
                  had some satisfaction in seeing him detested and despised by them all for his
                  behaviour to me. I was still in hopes that my old shipmates would <pb n="185" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p185.jpg"/> not forget their promise to come for
                  me to Portsmouth: and, indeed, at last, but not till the day before we sailed,
                  some of them did come there, and sent me off some oranges, and other tokens of
                  their regard. They also sent me word they would come off to me themselves the next
                  day or the day after; and a lady also, who lived in Gosport, wrote to me that she
                  would come and take me out of the ship at the same time. This lady had been once
                  very intimate with my former master: I used to sell and take care of a great deal
                  of property for her, in different ships; and in return she always shewed great
                  friendship for me, and used to tell my master that she would take me away to live
                  with her: but, unfortunately for me, a disagreement soon afterwards took place
                  between them; and she was succeeded in my master's <pb n="186" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p186.jpg"/> good graces by another lady, who appeared sole mistress of the Aetna, and mostly lodged on board. I was not so great
                  a favourite with this lady as with the former; she had conceived a pique against
                  me on some occasion when she was on board, and she did not fail to instigate my
                  master to treat me in the manner he <ref target="did_" corresp="did">did*</ref>.<note xml:id="did" corresp="did_">*Thus was I
                     sacrificed to the envy and resentment of this woman for knowing that the
                     lady whom she had succeeded in my master's good graces designed to take me
                     into her service; which, had I once got on shore, she would not have been
                     able to prevent. She felt her pride alarmed at the superiority of her rival
                     in being attended by a black servant: it was not less to prevent this than
                     to be revenged on me, that she caused the captain to treat me thus
                     cruelly. [Equiano's note.]</note>
                            </p>
               <p>However, the next morning, the 30th of December, the wind being brisk and
                  easterly, the Aeolus frigate, which was to escort the convoy, made a signal for
                  failing. All the ships
                  <pb n="187" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p187.jpg"/> then got up their anchors;
                  and, before any of my friends had an opportunity to come off to my relief, to my
                  inexpressible anguish our ship had got under way. What tumultuous emotions
                  agitated my soul when the convoy got under sail, and I a prisoner on board, now
                  without hope! I kept my swimming eyes upon the land in a state of unutterable
                  grief; not knowing what to do, and despairing how to help myself. While my mind
                  was in this situation the fleet sailed on, and in one day's time I lost sight of
                  the wished-for land. In the first expressions of my grief I reproached my fate,
                  and wished I had never been born. I was ready to curse the tide that bore us, the
                  gale that wasted my prison, and even the ship that conducted us; and I called on
                  death to relieve me from the horrors I felt and dreaded, <pb n="188" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p188.jpg"/> that I might be in that place
                  <lb/>
                                <quote>
                     <lg>
                        <l>"Where slaves are free, and men oppress no more,</l>
                        <l>"Fool that I was, inur'd so long to pain,</l>
                        <l>"To trust to hope, or dream of joy again.</l>
                        <l>"* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *</l>
                        <l>"Now dragged once more beyond the western main,</l>
                        <l>"To groan beneath some dastard planter's chain;</l>
                        <l>"Where my poor countrymen in bondage wait</l>
                        <l>"The long enfranchisement of a ling'ring fate;</l>
                        <l>"Hard ling'ring fate! while, ere the dawn of day,</l>
                        <l>"Rous'd by the lash they go their cheerless way;</l>
                        <l>"And as their soul with shame and anguish burn,</l>
                        <l>"Salute with groans unwelcome morn's return,</l>
                        <l>"And, chiding ev'ry hour the slow-pac'd sun,</l>
                        <l>"Pursue their toils till all his race is run.</l>
                        <l>"No eye to mark their sufferings with a tear;</l>
                        <l>"No friend to comfort, and no hope to cheer:</l>
                        <l>"Then, like the dull unpity'd brutes, repair</l>
                        <l>"To stalls as wretched, and as coarse a fare,</l>
                        <l>"Thank heaven one day of mis'ry was o'er,</l>
                        <l>"Then sink to sleep, and wish to wake no <ref target="more_" corresp="more">more‡</ref>.<note xml:id="more" target="more_">‡ "The Dying Negro," a poem originally
                           published in 1773. Perhaps it may not be deemed impertinent here to add, that
                           this elegant and pathetic little poem was occasioned, as appears by the
                           advertisement prefixed to it, by the following incident. "A black, who, a few days before had ran away from his master,                            and got himself christened, with intent to marry a white woman his fellow-servant,
                           being taken and sent on board a ship in the Thames, took an opportunity of
                           shooting himself through the head." [Equiano's note] Equiano is quoting (imperfectly) from <ref target="https://www.google.com/books/edition/The_Dying_Negro_a_Poem/toQuAAAAMAAJ?hl=en">
                                                    <hi rend="italic">"The Dying Negro, A Poem"</hi>
                                                </ref>, by Thomas Day and John Bicknell; as he notes, the poem was first published in 1773, and widely reprinted afterwards.</note>
                                        </l>
                     </lg>
                                </quote>
                  <pb n="189" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p189.jpg"/> The turbulence of my
                  emotions however naturally gave way to calmer thoughts, and I soon perceived what
                  fate had decreed no mortal on earth could prevent. The convoy sailed on without
                  any accident, with a pleasant gale and smooth sea, for six weeks, till February,
                  when one morning the Aeolus ran down a brig, one of the convoy, and she instantly
                  went down and was ingulfed in the dark recesses of the ocean. The convoy was
                  immediately thrown into great confusion till it was day-light; and the Aeolus was
                  illumined with lights to prevent any farther mischief. On the 13th of February
                  1763, from the masthead, we descried our destined island Montserrat: and soon
                  after I beheld those <quote>
                     <lg>
                        <l>"Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace</l>
                        <l>"And rest can rarely dwell. Hope never comes</l>
                        <l>"That comes to all, but torture without end</l>
                        <l>"still urges."</l>
                     </lg>
                  </quote>
                  <pb n="190" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p190.jpg"/> At the sight of this land of
                  bondage, a fresh horror ran through all my frame, and chilled me to the heart. My
                  former slavery now rose in dreadful review to my mind, and displayed nothing but
                  misery, stripes, and chains; and, in the first paroxysm of my grief, I called upon
                  God's thunder, and his avenging power, to direct the stroke of death to me, rather
                  than permit me to become a slave, and be sold from lord to lord.</p>
               <p>In this state of my mind our ship came to an anchor, and soon after discharged
                  her cargo. I now knew what it was to work hard; I was made to help to unload and
                  load the ship. And, to comfort me in my distress in that time, two of the sailors
                  robbed me of all my money, and ran away from the ship. I had been so long used to
                  an European climate, that at <pb n="191" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p191.jpg"/>
                  first I felt the scorching West India sun very painful, while the dashing surf
                  would toss the boat and the people in it frequently above high water mark.
                  sometimes our limbs were broken with this, or even attended with instant death,
                  and I was day by day mangled and torn.</p>
               <p>About the middle of May, when the ship was got ready to sail for England, I all
                  the time believing that Fate's blackest clouds were gathering over my head, and
                  expecting their bursting would mix me with the dead, Captain Doran sent for me
                  ashore one morning, and I was told by the messenger that my fate was then
                  determined. With trembling steps and fluttering heart I came to the captain, and
                  found with him one Mr. Robert King, a quaker, and the first merchant in the place.
                  The captain then told <pb n="192" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p192.jpg"/> me my
                  former master had sent me there to be sold; but that he had desired him to get me
                  the best master he could, as he told him I was a very deserving boy, which Captain
                  Doran said he found to be true; and if he were to stay in the West Indies he would
                  be glad to keep me himself; but he could not venture to take me to London, for he
                  was very sure that when I came there I would leave him. I at that instant burst
                  out a crying, and begged much of him to take me to England with him, but all to no
                  purpose. He told me he had got me the very best master in the whole island, with
                  whom I should be as happy as if I were in England, and for that reason he chose to
                  let him have me, though he could sell me to his own brother-in-law for a great
                  deal more money than what he got from this gentleman. <pb n="193" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p193.jpg"/> Mr. King, my new master, then made a
                  reply, and said the reason he had bought me was on account of my good character;
                  and, as he had not the least doubt of my good behaviour, I should be very well off
                  with him. He also told me he did not live in the West Indies, but at Philadelphia,
                  where he was going soon; and, as I understood something of the rules of
                  arithmetic, when we got there he would put me to school, and fit me for a clerk.
                  This conversation relieved my mind a little, and I left those gentlemen
                  considerably more at ease in myself than when I came to them; and I was very
                  thankful to Captain Doran, and even to my old master, for the character they had
                  given me; a character which I afterwards found of infinite service to me. I went
                  on board again, and took leave of all my shipmates; and the next day <pb n="194" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p194.jpg"/> the ship sailed. When she weighed
                  anchor I went to the waterside and looked at her with a very wishful and aching
                  heart, and followed her with my eyes until she was totally out of sight. I was so
                  bowed down with grief that I could not hold up my head for many months; and if my
                  new master had not been kind to me I believe I should have died under it at last.
                  And indeed I soon found that he fully deserved the good character which Captain
                  Doran had given me of him; for he possessed a most amiable disposition and temper,
                  and was very charitable and humane. If any of his slaves behaved amiss he did not
                  beat or use them ill, but parted with them. This made them afraid of disobliging
                  him; and as he treated his slaves better than any other man on the island, so he
                  was better and more faithfully served <pb n="195" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p195.jpg"/> by them in return. By this kind
                  treatment I did at last endeavour to compose myself; and with fortitude, though
                  moneyless, determined to face whatever fate had decreed for me. Mr. King soon
                  asked me what I could do; and at the same time said he did not mean to treat me as
                  a common slave. I told him I knew something of seamanship, and could shave and
                  dress hair pretty well; and I could refine wines, which I had learned on
                  shipboard, where I had often done it; and that I could write, and understood
                  arithmetic tolerably well as far as the Rule of Three. He then asked me if I knew
                  any thing of gauging; and, on my answering that I did not, he said one of his
                  clerks should teach me to guage.</p>
               <p>Mr. King dealt in all manner of merchandize, and kept from one to <pb n="196" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p196.jpg"/> six clerks. He loaded many vessels in
                  a year; particularly to Philadelphia, where he was born, and was connected with a
                  great mercantile house in that city. He had besides many vessels and droggers, of
                  different sizes, which used to go about the island; and others to collect rum,
                  sugar, and other goods. I understood pulling and managing those boats very well;
                  and this hard work, which was the first that he set me to, in the sugar seasons
                  used to be my constant employment. I have rowed the boat, and slaved at the oars,
                  from one hour to sixteen in the twenty-four; during which I had fifteen pence
                  sterling per day to live on, though sometimes only ten pence. However this was
                  considerably more than was allowed to other slaves that used to work often with
                  me, and belonged to other gentlemen on the <pb n="197" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p197.jpg"/> island: those poor souls had never
                  more than nine-pence per day, and seldom more than six-pence, from their masters
                  or owners, though they earned them three or four <ref target="pisterines_" corresp="pisterines">pisterines</ref>
                                <note xml:id="pisterines" target="pisterines_">These pisterines are of the value of a shilling. [Equiano's note.]</note>: for it
                  is a common practice in the West Indies for men to purchase slaves though they
                  have not plantations themselves, in order to let them out to planters and
                  merchants at so much a piece by the day, and they give what allowance they chuse
                  out of this produce of their daily work to their slaves for subsistence; this
                  allowance is often very scanty. My master often gave the owners of these slaves
                  two and a half of these pieces per day, and found the poor fellows in victuals
                  himself, because he thought their owners did not feed them well enough according
                  to the <pb n="198" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p198.jpg"/> work they did. The
                  slaves used to like this very well; and, as they knew my master to be a man of
                  feeling, they were always glad to work for him in preference to any other
                  gentleman; some of whom after they had been paid for these poor people's labours,
                  would not give them their allowance out of it. Many times have I even seen these
                  unfortunate wretches beaten for asking for their pay; and often severely flogged
                  by their owners if they did not bring them their daily or weekly money exactly to
                  the time; though the poor creatures were obliged to wait on the gentlemen they had
                  worked for sometimes for more than half the day before they could get their pay;
                  and this generally on Sundays, when they wanted the time for themselves. In
                  particular, I knew a countryman of mine who once did not <pb n="199" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p199.jpg"/> bring the weekly money directly that
                  it was earned; and though he brought it the same day to his master, yet he was
                  staked to the ground for his pretended negligence, and was just going to receive a
                  hundred lashes, but for a gentleman who begged him off fifty. This poor man was
                  very industrious; and, by his frugality, had saved so much money by working on
                  shipboard, that he had got a white man to buy him a boat, unknown to his master.
                  Some time after he had this little estate, the governor wanted a boat to bring his
                  sugar from different parts of the island; and, knowing this to be a negro-man's
                  boat, he seized upon it for himself, and would not pay the owner a farthing. The
                  man on this went to his master, and complained to him of this act of the governor;
                  but the only satisfaction he received <pb n="200" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p200.jpg"/> was to be damned very heartily by his
                  master, who asked him how dared any of his negroes to have a boat. If the
                  justly-merited ruin of the governor's fortune could be any gratification to the
                  poor man he had thus robbed, he was not without consolation. Extortion and rapine
                  are poor providers; and some time after this the governor died in the King's Bench
                  in England, as I was told, in great poverty. The last war favoured this poor
                  negro-man, and he found some means to escape from his Christian master: he came to
                  England; where I saw him afterwards several times. Such treatment as this often
                  drives these miserable wretches to despair, and they run away from their masters
                  at the hazard of their lives. Many of them, in this place, unable to get their pay
                  when they have earned it, and fearing <pb n="201" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p201.jpg"/> to be flogged, as usual, if they
                  return home without it, run away where they can for shelter, and a reward is often
                  offered to bring them in dead or alive. My master used sometimes, in these cases,
                  to agree with their owners, and to settle with them himself; and thereby he saved
                  many of them a flogging.</p>
               <p>Once, for a few days, I was let out to fit a vessel, and I had no victuals allowed
                  me by either party; at last I told my master of this treatment, and he took me
                  away from it. In many of the estates, on the different islands where I used to be
                  sent for rum or sugar, they would not deliver it to me, or any other negro; he was
                  therefore obliged to send a white man along with me to those places; and then he
                  used to pay him from six to ten pisterines a day. From being thus employed, <pb n="202" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p202.jpg"/> during the time I served Mr.
                  King, in going about the different estates on the island, I had all the
                  opportunity I could wish for to see the dreadful usage of the poor men; usage that
                  reconciled me to my situation, and made me bless God for the hands into which I
                  had fallen.</p>
               <p>I had the good fortune to please my master in every department in which he
                  employed me; and there was scarcely any part of his business, or houshold affairs,
                  in which I was not occasionally engaged. I often supplied the place of a clerk, in
                  receiving and delivering cargoes to the ships, in tending stores, and delivering
                  goods: and, besides this, I used to shave and dress my master when convenient, and
                  take care of his horse; and when it was necessary, which was very often, I worked
                  likewise on board of different <pb n="203" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p203.jpg"/> vessels of his. By these means I became very useful to my master; and saved
                  him, as he used to acknowledge, above a hundred pounds a year. Nor did he scruple
                  to say I was of more advantage to him than any of his clerks; though their usual
                  wages in the West Indies are from sixty to a hundred pounds current a year.</p>
               <p>I have sometimes heard it asserted that a negro cannot earn his master the first
                  cost; but nothing can be further from the truth. I suppose nine tenths of the
                  mechanics throughout the West Indies are negro slaves; and I well know the coopers
                  among them earn two dollars a day; the carpenters the same, and oftentimes more;
                  as also the masons, smiths, and fishermen, &amp;c. and I have known many slaves
                  whose masters would not take a thousand pounds current for them. <pb n="204" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p204.jpg"/> But surely this assertion refutes
                  itself; for, if it be true, why do the planters and merchants pay such a price for
                  slaves? And, above all, why do those who make this assertion exclaim the most
                  loudly against the abolition of the slave trade? So much are men blinded, and to
                  such inconsistent arguments are they driven by mistaken interest! I grant, indeed,
                  that slaves are some times, by half-feeding, half-clothing, over-working and
                  stripes, reduced so low, that they are turned out as unfit for service, and left
                  to perish in the woods, or expire on a dunghill.</p>
               <p>My master was several times offered by different gentlemen one hundred guineas for
                  me; but he always told them he would not sell me, to my great joy: and I used to
                  double my diligence and care for fear of getting into the hands of those men who
                  did not <pb n="205" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p205.jpg"/> allow a valuable
                  slave the common support of life. Many of them even used to find fault with my
                  master for feeding his slaves so well as he did; although I often went hungry, and
                  an Englishman might think my fare very indifferent; but he used to tell them he
                  always would do it, because the slaves thereby looked better and did more
                  work.</p>
               <p>While I was thus employed by my master I was often a witness to cruelties of every
                  kind, which were exercised on my unhappy fellow slaves. I used frequently to have
                  different cargoes of new negroes in my care for sale; and it was almost a constant
                  practice with our clerks, and other whites, to commit violent depredations on the
                  chastity of the female slaves; and these I was, though with reluctance, obliged to
                  submit to at all times, being unable to <pb n="206" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p206.jpg"/> help them. When we have had some of
                  these slaves on board my master's vessels to carry them to other islands, or to
                  America, I have known our mates to commit these acts most shamefully, to the
                  disgrace, not of Christians only, but of men. I have even known them gratify their
                  brutal passion with females not ten years old; and these abominations some of them
                  practised to such scandalous excess, that one of our captains discharged the mate
                  and others on that account. And yet in Montserrat I have seen a negro man staked
                  to the ground, and cut most shockingly, and then his ears cut off bit by bit,
                  because he had been connected with a white woman who was a common prostitute: as
                  if it were no crime in the whites to rob an innocent African girl of her virtue;
                  but most heinous in a black man only to gratify a <pb n="207" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p207.jpg"/> passion of nature, where the
                  temptation was offered by one of a different colour, though the most abandoned
                  woman of her species.</p>
               <p>One Mr. D— told me that he had sold 41000 negroes, and that he once cut off a
                  negro-man's leg for running away—I asked him if the man had died in the operation,
                  how he as a christian could answer for the horrid act before God? and he told me,
                  answering was a thing of another world; what he thought and did were policy. I
                  told him that the christian doctrine taught us to do unto others as we would that
                  others should do unto us. He then said that his scheme had the desired effect—it
                  cured that man and some others of running away.</p>
               <p>Another negro-man was half hanged, and then burnt, for attempting to poison <pb n="208" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p208.jpg"/> a cruel overseer. Thus by
                  repeated cruelties are the wretched first urged to despair, and then murdered,
                  because they still retain so much of human nature about them as to wish to put an
                  end to their misery, and retaliate on their tyrants! These overseers are indeed
                  for the most part persons of the worst character of any denomination of men in the
                  West Indies. Unfortunately, many humane gentlemen, by not residing on their
                  estates, are obliged to leave the management of them in the hands of these human
                  butchers, who cut and mangle the slaves in a shocking manner on the most trifling
                  occasions, and altogether treat them in every respect like brutes. They pay no
                  regard to the situation of pregnant women, nor the least attention to the lodging
                  of the field negroes. Their huts, which ought to be well covered, and the place
                  dry where they <pb n="209" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p209.jpg"/> take their
                  little repose, are often open sheds, built in damp places; so that, when the poor
                  creatures return tired from the toils of the field, they contract many disorders,
                  from being exposed to the damp air in this uncomfortable state, while they are
                  heated, and their pores are open. This neglect certainly conspires with many
                  others to cause a decrease in the births as well as in the lives of the grown
                  negroes. I can quote many instances of gentlemen who reside on their estates in
                  the west Indies, and then the scene is quite changed; the negroes are treated with
                  lenity and proper care, by which their lives are prolonged, and their masters
                  profited. To the honour of humanity, I knew several gentlemen who managed their
                  estates in this manner; and they found that benevolence was their true interest.
                     <pb n="210" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p210.jpg"/> And, among many I could
                  mention in several of the islands, I knew <ref target="one_" corresp="one">one in Montserrat*</ref> whose slaves looked
                  remarkably well, and never needed any fresh supplies of negroes; and there are
                  many other estates, especially in Barbadoes, which, from such judicious treatment,
                  need no fresh stock of negroes at any time. I have the honour of knowing a most
                  worthy and humane <ref target="gentleman_" corresp="gentleman">gentleman</ref>, who is a native of Barbadoes, and has estates there. This gentleman has written a treatise on the usage of his own slaves. He allows
                  them two hours for refreshment at mid-day; and many other indulgencies and
                  comforts, particularly in their lying; and, besides this, he raises more
                  provisions on his estate than they can destroy; so that by these attentions <note xml:id="one" target="one_">* Mr. Durbury, and many others, Montserrat. [Equiano's note]</note>
                  <note xml:id="gentleman" target="gentleman_">Sir Philip Gibbes, Baronet, Barbadoes. [Equiano's note.}</note>
                  <pb n="211" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p211.jpg"/> he saves the lives of his
                  negroes, and keeps them healthy, and as happy as the condition of slavery can
                  admit. I myself, as shall appear in the sequel, managed an estate, where, by those
                  attentions, the negroes were uncommonly cheerful and healthy, and did more work by
                  half than by the common mode of treatment they usually do. For want, therefore, of
                  such care and attention to the poor negroes, and otherwise oppressed as they are,
                  it is no wonder that the decrease should require 20,000 new negroes annually to
                  fill up the vacant places of the dead.</p>
               <p>Even in Barbadoes, notwithstanding those humane exceptions which I have mentioned,
                  and others I am acquainted with, which justly make it quoted as a place where
                  slaves meet with the best treatment, and need fewest recruits of any in the West
                  Indies, yet this <pb n="212" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p212.jpg"/> island
                  requires 1000 negroes annually to keep up the original stock, which is only
                  80,000. so that the whole term of a negro's life may be said to be there but
                  sixteen <ref target="years_" corresp="years">years*</ref>? And yet the climate here is in every respect the same as that from
                  which they are taken, except in being more wholesome. Do the British colonies
                  decrease in this manner? And yet what a prodigious difference is there between an
                  English and West India climate?</p>
               <p>While I was in Montserrat I knew a negro man, named Emanuel Sankey, who
                  endeavoured to escape from his miserable bondage, by concealing himself on board
                  of a London ship: but fate did not favour the poor oppressed man; for, being
                  discovered when the vessel was under sail, he was delivered up again to his
                  master. This <hi rend="italic">Christian</hi>
                  <note xml:id="years" target="years_">* Benezet's Account of Guinea, p. 16. [Equiano's note]. Anthony Benezet's <ref target="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/11489/11489-h/11489-h.htm">
                                        <hi rend="italic">Some Historical Account of Guinea</hi>
                                    </ref>,first published in Philadelphia in 1771, was a widely-known and much reprinted text in this period.</note>
                  <pb n="213" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p213.jpg"/>
                  <hi rend="italic">master</hi> immediately pinned the wretch down to the ground at
                  each wrist and ancle, and then took some sticks of sealing wax, and lighted them,
                  and droped it all over his back. There was another master who was noted for
                  cruelty; and I believe he had not a slave but what had been cut, and had pieces
                  fairly taken out of the flesh: and after they had been punished thus, he used to
                  make them get into a long wooden box or case he had for that purpose, in which he
                  shut them up during pleasure. It was just about the height and breadth of a man;
                  and the poor wretches had no room, when in the case to move.</p>
               <p>It was very common in several of the islands, particularly in St. Kitt's, for the
                  slaves to be branded with the initial letters of their master's name; and a load
                  of heavy iron hooks hung about their necks. Indeed on the most <pb n="214" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p214.jpg"/> trifling occasions they were loaded
                  with chains; and often instruments of torture were added. The iron muzzle,
                  thumb-screws, &amp;c. are so well known, as not to need a description, and were
                  sometimes applied for the slightest faults. I have seen a negro beaten till some
                  of his bones were broken, for only letting a pot boil over. Is it surprising that
                  usage like this should drive the poor creatures to despair, and make them seek a
                  refuge in death from those evils which render their lives intolerable—while,<quote>
                     <lg>
                        <l>"With shuddering horror pale, and eyes aghast,</l>
                        <l>"They view their lamentable lot, and find</l>
                        <l>"No rest!"</l>
                     </lg>
                  </quote>
               </p>
               <p>This they frequently do. A negro-man on board a vessel of my master, while I
                  belonged to her, having been put in irons for some trifling misdemeanor, and kept
                  in that state <pb n="215" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p215.jpg"/> for some days,
                  being weary of life, took an opportunity of jumping overboard into the sea;
                  however, he was picked up without being drowned. Another, whose life was also a
                  burden to him, resolved to starve himself to death, and refused to eat any
                  victuals: this procured him a severe flogging: and he also, on the first occasion
                  which offered, jumped overboard at Charles Town, but was saved.</p>
               <p>Nor is there any greater regard shewn to the little property than there is to the
                  persons and lives of the negroes. I have already related an instance or two of
                  particular oppression out of many which I have witnessed; but the following is
                  frequent in all the islands. The wretched field-slaves, after toiling all the day
                  for an unfeeling owner, who gives them but little victuals, steal sometimes a few
                  moments from <pb n="216" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p216.jpg"/> rest or
                  refreshment to gather some small portion of grass, according as their time will
                  admit. This they commonly tie up in a parcel; either a bit's worth (six-pence) or
                  half a bit's worth; and bring it to town, or to the market, to sell. Nothing is
                  more common than for the white people on this occasion to take the grass from them
                  without paying for it; and not only so, but too often also, to my knowledge, our
                  clerks, and many others, at the same time have committed acts of violence on the
                  poor, wretched, and helpless females; whom I have seen for hours stand crying to
                  no purpose, and get no redress or pay of any kind. Is not this one common and
                  crying sin enough to bring down God's judgment on the islands? He tells us the
                  oppressor and the oppressed are both in his hands; and if these are not the <pb n="217" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p217.jpg"/> poor, the broken-hearted, the
                  blind, the captive, the bruised, which our saviour speaks of, who are they? One of
                  these depredators once, in st. Eustatia, came on board of our vessel, and bought
                  some fowls and pigs of me; and a whole day after his departure with the things, he
                  returned again and wanted his money back: I refused to give it; and, not seeing my
                  captain on board, he began the common pranks with me; and swore he would even
                  break open my chest and take my money. I therefore expected, as my captain was
                  absent, that he would be as good as his word: and he was just proceeding to strike
                  me, when fortunately a British seaman on board, whose heart had not been debauched
                  by a West India climate, interposed and prevented him. But had the cruel man
                  struck me I certainly should have defended <pb n="218" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p218.jpg"/> myself at the hazard of my life; for
                  what is life to a man thus oppressed? He went away, however, swearing; and
                  threatened that whenever he caught me on shore he would shoot me, and pay for me
                  afterwards.</p>
               <p>The small account in which the life of a negro is held in the West Indies, is so
                  universally known, that it might seem impertinent to quote the following extract,
                  if some people had not been hardy enough of late to assert that negroes are on the
                  same footing in that respect as Europeans. By the 329th Act, page 125, of the
                  Assembly of Barbadoes, it is enacted 'That if
                     any negro, or other slave, under punishment by his master, or his order, for
                     running away, or any other crime or misdemeanor towards his said master,
                     unfortunately shall suffer in life or member, no person whatsoever <pb n="219" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p219.jpg"/> shall be liable to a fine; but if
                     any man shall out of <hi rend="italic">wantonness, or only of
                        bloody-mindedness, or cruel iniention, wilfully kill a negro, or other
                        slave, of his own, he shall pay into the public treasury fifteen pounds
                        sterling.</hi>' And it is the same in most, if not all, of the West
                  India islands. Is not this one of the many acts of the islands which call loudly
                  for redress? And do not the Assembly which enacted it deserve the appellation of
                  savages and brutes rather than of christians and men? It is an act at once
                  unmerciful, unjust, and unwise; which for cruelty would disgrace an assembly of
                  those who are called barbarians; and for its injustice and <hi rend="italic">insanity</hi> would shock the morality and common sense of a Samaide or
                  Hottentot.</p>
               <p>Shocking as this and many more acts of the bloody West India code at first <pb n="220" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p220.jpg"/> view appear, how is the
                  iniquity of it heightened when we consider to whom it may be extended! Mr. James
                  Tobin, a zealous labourer in the vineyard of slavery gives an account of a French
                  planter of his acquaintance, in the island of Martinico, who shewed him many
                  mulattoes working in the fields like beasts of burden; and he told Mr. Tobin these
                  were all the produce of his own loins! And I myself have known similar instances.
                  Pray, reader, are these sons and daughters of the French planter less his children
                  by being begotten on black women? And what must be the virtue of those
                  legislators, and the feelings of those fathers, who estimate the lives of their
                  sons, however begotten, at no more than fifteen pounds; though they should be
                  murdered, as the act says, <hi rend="italic">out of wantonness and
                     bloody-mindedness!</hi> But is <pb n="221" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p221.jpg"/> not the slave trade entirely a war
                  with the heart of man? And surely that which is begun by breaking down the
                  barriers of virtue involves in its continuance destruction to every principle, and
                  buries all sentiments in ruin!</p>
               <p>I have often seen slaves, particularly those who were meagre, in different
                  islands, put into scales and weighed; and then sold from three pence to six pence
                  or nine pence a pound. My master, however, whose humanity was shocked at this
                  mode, used to sell such by the lump. And at or after a sale it was not uncommon to
                  see negroes taken from their wives, wives taken from their husbands, and children
                  from their parents, and sent off to other islands, and wherever else their
                  merciless lords choose; and probably never more during life see each other!
                  Oftentimes my heart has bled at these <pb n="222" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p222.jpg"/> partings; when the friends of the
                  departed have been at the water side, and, with sighs and tears, have kept their
                  eyes fixed on the vessel, till it went out of sight.</p>
               <p>A poor Creole negro I knew well, who, after having been often thus transported
                  from island to island, at last resided in Montserrat. This man used to tell me
                  many melancholy tales of himself. Generally, after he had done working for his
                  master, he used to employ his few leisure moments to go a fishing. When he had
                  caught any fish, his master would frequently take them from him without paying
                  him; and at other times some other white people would serve him in the same
                  manner. One day he said to me, very movingly, 'sometimes when a white man take away my fish I go to my maser, and he get me
                     my right; <pb n="223" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p223.jpg"/> and when my
                     maser by strength take away my fishes, what me must do? I can't go to any body
                     to be righted; then,' said the poor man, looking up above, 'I must look up to God Mighty in the top for
                     right.' This artless tale moved me much, and I could not help feeling
                  the just cause Moses had in redressing his brother against the Egyptian. I
                  exhorted the man to look up still to the God on the top, since there was no
                  redress below. Though I little thought then that I myself should more than once
                  experience such imposition, and need the same exhortation hereafter, in my own
                  transactions in the islands; and that even this poor man and I should some time
                  after suffer together in the same manner, as shall be related hereafter.</p>
               <p>Nor was such usage as this confined to particular places or individuals; for, <pb n="224" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p224.jpg"/> in all the different islands
                  in which I have been (and I have visited no less than fifteen) the treatment of
                  the slave, was nearly the same; so nearly indeed, that the history of an island,
                  or even a plantation, with a few such exceptions as I have mentioned, might serve
                  for a history of the whole. Such a tendency has the slave-trade to debauch men's
                  minds, and harden them to every feeling of humanity! For I will not suppose that
                  the dealers in slaves are born worse than other men—No; it is the fatality of this
                  mistaken avarice, that it corrupts the milk of human kindness and turns it into
                  gall. And, had the pursuits of those men been different, they might have been as
                  generous, as tender-hearted and just, as they are unfeeling, rapacious and cruel.
                  Surely this traffic cannot be good, which spreads like a pestilence, and taints
                  what it touches! which <pb n="225" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p225.jpg"/>
                  violates that first natural right of mankind, equality and independency, and gives
                  one man a dominion over his fellows which God could never intend! For it raises
                  the owner to a state as far above man as it depresses the slave below it; and,
                  with all the presumption of human pride, sets a distinction between them,
                  immeasurable in extent, and endless in duration! Yet how mistaken is the avarice
                  even of the planters. Are slaves more useful by being thus humbled to the
                  condition of brutes, than they would be if suffered to enjoy the privileges of
                  men? The freedom which diffuses health and prosperity through out Britain answers
                  you—No. When you make men slaves you deprive them of half their virtue, you set
                  them in your own conduct an example of fraud, rapine, and cruelty, and compel them
                  to live with you in a state of war; and <pb n="226" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p226.jpg"/> yet you complain that they are not
                  honest or faithful! You stupify them with stripes, and think it necessary to keep
                  them in a state of ignorance; and yet you assert that they are incapable of
                  learning; that their minds are such a barren soil or moor, that culture would be
                  lost on them; and that they come from a climate, where nature, though prodigal of
                  her bounties in a degree unknown to yourselves, has left man alone scant and
                  unfinished; and incapable of enjoying the treasures she has poured out for him!—An
                  as sertion at once impious and absurd. Why do you use those instruments of
                  torture? Are they fit to be applied by one rational being to another? And are ye
                  not struck with shame and mortification, to see the partakers of your nature
                  reduced so low? But, above all, are there no dangers attending this <pb n="227" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p227.jpg"/> mode of treatment? Are you not hourly
                  in dread of an insurrection? Nor would it be surprising: for when <quote>
                     <lg>
                        <l>"—No peace is given</l>
                        <l>"To us enslav'd, but custody severe;</l>
                        <l>"And stripes and arbitrary punishment</l>
                        <l>"Inflicted—What peace can we return?</l>
                        <l>"But to our power, hostility and hate;</l>
                        <l>"Untam'd reluctance, and revenge, though slow.</l>
                        <l>"Yet ever plotting how the conqueror least</l>
                        <l>"May reap his conquest, and may least rejoice</l>
                        <l>"In doing what we most in suffering feel."</l>
                     </lg>
                                </quote> But by changing your conduct, and treating your slaves as men,
                  every cause of fear would be banished. They would be faithful, honest, intelligent
                  and vigorous; and peace, prosperity, and happiness, would attend you.</p>
            </div>
            <div n="6" type="chapter">
               <pb n="228" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p228.jpg"/>
               <head>CHAP. VI.</head>
               
                  <p>
                     <hi rend="italic">some account of Brimstone-Hill in Montserrat—Favourable change in the author's situation—He commences merchant
                        with three pence—His various success in dealing in the different islands,
                        and America, and the impositions he meets with in his transactions with
                        Europeans—A curious imposition on human nature—Dan er of the surfs in the
                        West Indies—Remarkable instance of kidnapping a free mulatto—Ths author is
                        nearly murdered by Doctor Perkins in savannah.</hi>
                  </p>
               
               <p>IN the preceding chapter I have set before the reader a few of those many
                  instances of oppression, extortion, and cruelty, which I have been a witness <pb n="229" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p229.jpg"/> to in the West Indies: but,
                  were I to enumerate them all, the catalogue would be tedious and disgusting. The
                  punishments of the slaves on every trifling occasion are so frequent, and so well
                  known together with the different instruments with which they are tortured, that
                  it cannot any longer afford novelty to recite them; and they are too shocking to
                  yield delight either to the writer or the reader. I shall therefore here after
                  only mention such as incidentally befell myself in the course of my
                  adventures.</p>
               <p>In the variety of departments in which I was employed by my master, I had an
                  opportunity of seeing many curious scenes in different islands; but, above all, I
                  was struck with a celebrated curiosity called Brimstone-Hill, which is a high and
                  steep mountain, some few miles from the town of Plymouth in Montserrat. I had
                  often heard of some <pb n="230" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p230.jpg"/> wonders
                  that were to be seen on this hill, and I went once with some white and black
                  people to visit it. When we arrived at the top, I saw under different cliffs great
                  flakes of brimstone, occasioned by the steams of various little ponds, which were
                  then boiling naturally in the earth. Some of these ponds were as white as milk,
                  some quite blue, and many others of different colours. I had taken some potatoes
                  with me, and I put them into different ponds, and in a few minutes they were well
                  boiled. I tasted some of them, but they were very sulphurous; and the silver shoe
                  buckles, and all the other things of that metal we had among us, were, in a little
                  time turned as black as lead.</p>
               <p>Some time in the year 1763, kind Providence seemed to appear rather more
                  favourable to me. One of my master's vessels, a Bermudas sloop, about sixty tons
                  burthen was commanded by one <pb n="231" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p231.jpg"/>
                  Captain Thomas Farmer, an English man, a very alert and active man, who gained my
                  master a great deal of money by his good mangement in carrying passengers from
                  one island to another; but very often his sailors used to get drunk and run away
                  from the vessel, which hindered him in his business very much. This man had taken
                  a liking to me; and many different times begged of my master to let me go a trip
                  with him as a sailor; but he would tell him he could not spare me, though the
                  vessel sometimes could not go for want of hands, for sailors were generally very
                  scarce in the island. However, at last, from necessity or force, my master was
                  prevailed on, though very reluctantly, to let me go with this captain; but he gave
                  him great charge to take care that I did not run away, for if I did he would make
                  him pay for me. This being the case, the captain had for <pb n="232" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p232.jpg"/> some time a sharp eye upon me
                  whenever the vessel anchored; and as soon as she returned I was sent for on shore
                  again. Thus was I slaving as it were for life, sometimes at one thing, and
                  sometimes at another; so that the captain and I were nearly the most useful men
                  in my master's employment. I also became so useful to the captain on shipboard,
                  that many times, when he used to ask for me to go with him, though it should be
                  but for twenty four hours, to some of the islands near us, my master would answer
                  he could not spare me, at which the captain would swear, and would not go the trip;
                  and tell my master I was better to him on board than any three white men he had;
                  for they used to behave ill in many respects, particularly in getting drunk; and
                  then they frequently got the boat stove, so as to hinder the vessel from coming
                  back as soon as she <pb n="233" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p233.jpg"/> might
                  have done. This my master knew very well; and at last, by the captain's constant
                  entreaties, after I had been several times with him, one day to my great joy, told
                  me the captain would not let him rest, and asked whether I would go aboard as a
                  sailor, or stay on shore and mind the stores, for he could not bear any longer to
                  be plagued in this manner. I was very happy at this proposal, for I immediately
                  thought I might in time stand some chance by being on board to get a little money,
                  or possibly make my escape if I should be used ill: I also expected to get better
                  food, and in greater abundance; for I had oftentimes felt much hunger, though my
                  master treated his slaves, as I have observed, uncommonly well. I therefore, without hesitation, answered him, that I would go and be a sailor if he pleased.
                  Accordingly I was ordered on board <pb n="234" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p234.jpg"/> directly. Nevertheless, between the
                  vessel and the shore, when she was in port, I had little or no rest, as my master
                  always wished to have me along with him. Indeed he was a very pleasant gentleman,
                  and but for my expectations on shipboard I should not have thought of leaving
                  him. But the captain liked me also very much, and I was entirely his right-hand
                  man. I did all I could to deserve his favour, and in return I received better
                  treatment from him than any other I believe ever met with in the West Indies in my
                  situation.</p>
               <p>After I had been sailing for some time with this captain, at length I endeavoured
                  to try my luck and commence merchant. I had but a very small capital to begin
                  with; for one single half bit, which is equal to three-pence in England, made up
                  my whole stock. However I trusted to the Lord to be <pb n="235" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p235.jpg"/> with me; and at one of our trips to
                     <hi rend="italic">St. Eustatia,</hi> a Dutch island, I bought a glass tumbler
                  with my half bit, and when I came to Montserrat I sold it for a bit, or six-pence.
                  Luckily we made several successive trips to St. Eustatia (which was a general mart
                  for the West Indies, about twenty leagues from Montserrat) and in our next,
                  finding my tumbler so profitable, with this one bit I bought two tumblers more;
                  and when I came back I sold them for two bits equal to a shilling sterling. When
                  we went again I bought with these two bits four more of these glasses, which I
                  sold for fout bits on our return to Montserrat: and in our next voyage to St.
                  Eustatia, I bought two glasses with one bit, and with the other three I bought a
                  jug of Geneva, nearly about three pints in measure. When we came to Montserrat, I
                  sold the gin for eight bits, and the tumblers for two, so that <pb n="235" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p235.jpg"/> my capital now amounted in all to a
                  dollar, well husbanded and acquired in the space of a month or six weeks, when I
                  blessed the Lord that I was so rich. As we sailed to different islands, I laid
                  this money out in various things occasionally, and it used to turn to very good
                  account, especially when we went to Guadaloupe, Grenada, and the rest of the
                  French islands. Thus was I going all about the islands upwards of four years, and
                  ever trading as I went, during which I experienced many instances of ill usage,
                  and have seen many injuries done to other negroes in our dealings with whites:
                  and, amidst our recreations, when we have been dancing and merry-making, they,
                  without cause, have molested and insulted us. Indeed I was more than once obliged
                  to look up to God on high, as I had advised the poor fisherman some time before.
                  And I had not <pb n="237" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p237.jpg"/> been long
                  trading for myself in the manner I have related above, when I experienced the like
                  trial in company with him as follows: This man being used to the water, was upon
                  an emergency put on board of us by his master to work as another hand, on a
                  voyage to Santa Cruz; and at our sailing he had brought his little all for a
                  venture which consisted of six bits' worth of limes and oranges in a bag; I had
                  also my whole stock, which was about twelve bits' worth of the same kind of goods,
                  separate in two bags; for we had heard these fruits sold well in that island. When
                  we came there, in some little convenient time he and I went ashore with our fruits
                  to sell them; but we had scarcely landed when we were met by two white men, who
                  presently took our three bags from us. We could not at first guess what they meant
                  to do; and for some time we thought <pb n="238" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p238.jpg"/> they were jesting with us; but they
                  too soon let us know otherwise, for they took our ventures immediately to a house
                  hard by, and adjoining the fort, while we followed all the way begging of them to
                  give us our fruits, but in vain. They not only refused to return them but swore at
                  us, and threatened if we did not immediately depart they would flog us well. We
                  told them these three bags were all we were worth in the world, and that we
                  brought them with us to sell when we came from Montserrat, and shewed them the
                  vessel. But this was rather against us, as they now saw we were strangers as well
                  as slaves. They still therefore swore, and desired us to be gone, and even took
                  sticks to beat us; while we, seeing they meant what they said, went off in the
                  greatest confusion and despair. Thus, in the very minute of gaining more by three
                  times than I ever did <pb n="239" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p239.jpg"/> by any
                  venture in my life before, was I deprived of every farthing I was worth. An
                  insupportable misfortune! but how to help ourselves we knew not. In our
                  consternation we went to the commanding officer of the fort, and told him how we
                  had been served by some of his people; but we obtained not the least redress: he
                  answered our complaints only by a volley of imprecations against us, and
                  immediately took a horse-whip, in order to chastise us, so that we were obliged to
                  turn out much faster than we came in. I now, in the agony of distress and indignation, wished that the ire of God in his forked lightning might transfix these
                  cruel oppressors among the dead. Still however we persevered; went back again to
                  the house, and begged and besought them again and again for our fruits, till at
                  last some other people that were in the house asked if we would be <pb n="240" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p240.jpg"/> contented if they kept one bag and
                  gave us the other two. We, seeing no remedy whatever, consented to this; and they,
                  observing one bag to have both kinds of fruit in it, which belonged to my
                  companion, kept that; and the other two, which were mine they gave us back. As
                  soon as I got them, I ran as fast as I could, and got the first negro man I could
                  to help me off; my companion, however, stayed a little longer to plead; he told
                  them the bag they had was his, and likewise all that he was worth in the world;
                  but this was of no avail, and he was obliged to return without it. The poor old
                  man wringing his hands, cried bitterly for his loss; and, indeed, he then did look
                  up to God on high, which so moved me with pity for him, that I gave him nearly one
                  third of my fruits. We then proceeded to the markets to sell them; and Providence
                     <pb n="241" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p241.jpg"/> was more favourable to us
                  than we could have expected, for we sold our fruits uncommonly well; I got for
                  mine about thirty-seven bits. such a surprising reverse of fortune in so short a
                  space of time seemed like a dream, and proved no small encouragement for me to
                  trust the Lord in any situation. My captain afterwards frequently used to take my
                  part, and get me my right, when I have been plun dred or used ill by these tender
                  Christian depredators; among whom I have shuddered to observe the unceasing
                  blasphemous execrations which are want only thrown out by persons of all ages and
                  conditions, not only without occasion, but even as if they were indulgences and
                  pleasure.</p>
               <p>At one of our trips to St. Kitt's, I had eleven bits of my own; and my friendly
                  captain lent me five more, <pb n="242" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p242.jpg"/>
                  with which I bought a Bible. I was very glad to get this book, which I scarcely
                  could meet with any where. I think there was none sold in Montserrat; and, much
                  to my grief, from being forced out of the Aetna in the manner I have related, my
                  Bible, and the Guide to the Indians, the two books I loved above all others, were
                  left behind.</p>
               <p>While I was in this place, St. Kitt's, a very curious imposition on human nature
                  took place:—A white man wanted to marry in the church a free black woman that had
                  land and slaves in Montserrat: but the clergyman told him it was against the law
                  of the place to marry a white and a black in the church. The man then asked to be
                  married on the water, to which the parson consented, and the two lovers went in
                  one boat, and the parson and <pb n="243" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p243.jpg"/>
                  clerk in another, and thus the ceremony was performed. After this the loving pair
                  came on board our vessel, and my captain treated them extremely well, and brought
                  them safe to Montserrat.</p>
               <p>The reader cannot but judge of the irksomeness of this situation to a mind like
                  mine, in being daily exposed to new hardships and impositions, after having seen
                  many better days, and been as it were, in a state of freedom and plenty; added to
                  which, every part of the world I had hitherto been in, seemed to me a paradise in
                  comparison of the West Indies. My mind was therefore hourly replete with
                  inventions and thoughts of being freed, and, if possible, by honest and honourable
                  means; for I always remembered the old adage; and I trust it has ever been my
                  ruling principle, that "Honesty <pb n="244" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p244.jpg"/> is the best policy;" and
                  likewise that other golden precept—"To do unto all
                     men as I would they should do unto me." However, as I was from early
                  years a predestinarian, I thought whatever fate had determined must ever come to
                  pass; and therefore, if ever it were my lot to be freed nothing could prevent me,
                  although I should at present see no means or hope to obtain my freedom; on the
                  other hand, if it were my fate not to be freed I never should be so, and all my
                  endeavours for that purpose would be fruitless. In the midst of these thoughts I
                  therefore looked up with prayers anxiously to God for my liberty; and at the same
                  time used every honest means, and did all that was possible on my part to obtain
                  it. In process of time I became master of a few pounds, and in a fair way of
                  making more, which <pb n="245" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p245.jpg"/> my
                  friendly captain knew very well; this occasioned him sometimes to take liberties
                  with me; but whenever he treated me waspishly I used plainly to tell him my mind,
                  and that I would die before I would be imposed upon as other negroes were, and
                  that to me life had lost its relish when liberty was gone. This I said although I
                  foresaw my then well-being or future hopes of freedom (humanly speaking) depended
                  on this man. However, as he could not bear the thoughts of my not failing with
                  him, he always became mild on my threats. I therefore continued with him; and,
                  from my great attention to his orders and his business, I gained him credit, and
                  through his kindness to me I at last procured my liberty. While I thus went on,
                  filled with the thoughts of freedom, and resisting oppression as well as I was
                  able, my life hung daily <pb n="246" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p246.jpg"/> in
                  suspence, particularly in the surfs I have formerly mentioned, as I could not
                  swim. These are extremely violent throughout the West Indies, and I was ever
                  exposed to their howling rage and devouring fury in all the islands. I have seen
                  them strike and toss a boat right up an end, and maim several on board. Once in
                  the Grenada islands, when I and about eight others were pulling a large boat with
                  two puncheons of water in it, a surf struck us, and drove the boat and all in it
                  about half a stone's throw, among some trees, and above the high water mark. We
                  were obliged to get all the assistance we could from the nearest estate to mend
                  the boat, and launch it into the water again. At Montserrat one night, in pressing
                  hard to get off the shore on board, the punt was overset with us four times; the
                  first time I was very near being drowned; <pb n="247" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p247.jpg"/> however the jacket I had on kept me
                  up above water a little space of time, while I called on a man near me who was a
                  good swimmer, and told him I could not swim; he then made haste to me, and, just
                  as I was sinking, he caught hold of me, and brought me to sounding, and then he
                  went and brought the punt also. As soon as we had turned the water out of her,
                  lest we should be used ill for being absent, we attempted again three times more,
                  and as often the horrid surfs served us as at first; but at last, the fifth time
                  we attempted, we gained our point, at the eminent hazard of our lives. One day
                  also, at Old Road in Montserrat, our captain, and three men besides myself, were
                  going in a large canoe in quest of rum and sugar, when a single surf tossed the
                  canoe an amazing distance from the water, <pb n="248" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p248.jpg"/> and some of us, near a stone's throw
                  from each other: most of us were very much bruised; so that I and many more often
                  said, and really thought, that there was not such another place under the heavens
                  as this. I longed therefore much to leave it, and daily wished to see my master's
                  promise performed of going to Philadelphia.</p>
               <p>While we lay in this place a very cruel thing happened on board of our sloop which
                  filled me with horror; though I found afterwards such practices were frequent.
                  There was a very clever and decent free young mulatto-man who sailed a long time
                  with us: he had a free woman for his wife, by whom he had a child; and she was
                  then living on shore, and all very happy. Our captain and mate, and other people
                  on board, and several elsewhere, even the natives of Bermudas, all knew this <pb n="249" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p249.jpg"/> young man from a child that
                  he was always free, and no one had ever claimed him as their property: however, as
                  might too often overcomes right in these parts, it happened that a Bermudas
                  captain, whose vessel lay there for a few days in the road, came on board of us,
                  and seeing the mulatto man, whose name was Joseph Clipson, he told him he was not
                  free, and that he had orders from his master to bring him to Bermudas. The poor
                  man could not believe the captain to be in earnest; but he was very soon
                  undeceived, his men laying violent hands on him; and although he shewed a
                  certificate of his being born free in St. Kitt's, and most people on board knew
                  that he served his time to boat building, and always passed for a free man, yet he
                  was forcibly taken out of our vessel. He then asked to be carried <pb n="250" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p250.jpg"/> ashore before the secretary or
                  magistrates, and these infernal invaders of human rights promised him he should;
                  but, instead of that, they carried him on board of the other vessel: and the next
                  day, without giving the poor man any hearing on shore, or suffering him even to
                  see his wife or child, he was carried away, and probably doomed never more in this
                  world to see them again. Nor was this the only instance of this kind of <ref target="barbarity_" corresp="barbarity">barbarity</ref> I was a witness to. I
                  have since often seen in Jamaica and other islands, free men, whom I have known in
                  America, thus villainously trepanned and held in bondage. I have heard of two
                  similar practices even in Philadelphia: and were it not for the benevolence of the
                  quakers in that city, many of the sable race, who now breathe the air of liberty,
                  would, I believe, be groaning indeed <pb n="251" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p251.jpg"/> under some planter's chains. These
                  things opened my mind to a new scene of horror to which I had been before a
                  stranger. Hitherto I had thought only slavery dreadful; but the state of a free
                  negro appeared to me now equally so at least, and in some respects even worse, for
                  they live in constant alarm for their liberty; which is but nominal, for they are
                  universally insulted and plundered without the possibility of redress; for such is
                  the equity of the West Indian laws, that no free negro's evidence will be admitted
                  in their courts of justice. In this situation is it surprising that slaves, when
                  mildly treated, should prefer even the misery of slavery to such a mockery of
                  freedom? I was now completely disgusted with the West Indies, and thought I never
                  should be entirely free until I had left them.</p>
              
                  <pb n="252" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p252.jpg"/>
                  <lg>
                     <l>"With thoughts like these my anxious boding mind</l>
                     <l>"Recall'd those pleasing scenes I left behind;</l>
                     <l>"Scenes where fair Liberty in bright array</l>
                     <l>"Makes darkness bright, and e'en illumines day;</l>
                     <l>"Where nor complexion, wealth, or station, can</l>
                     <l>"Protect the wretch who makes a slave of man."</l>
                  </lg>
               
               <p>I determined to make every exertion to obtain my freedom, and to return to Old
                  England. For this purpose I thought a knowledge of navigation might be of use to
                  me; for, though I did not intend to run away unless I should be ill used; yet, in
                  such a case, if I understood navigation, I might attempt my escape in our <ref target="sloop_" corresp="sloop">sloop</ref>, which was one of the swiftest
                  sailing vessels in the West Indies, and I could be at no loss for hands to join
                  me: and if I should make this attempt, I had intended to have gone for England;
                  but this, as I said, was only to be in the event of my meeting with any ill usage.
                  I <pb n="253" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p253.jpg"/> therefore employed the
                  mate of our vessel to teach me navigation, for which I agreed to give him
                  twenty-four dollars, and actually paid him part of the money down; though when the
                  captain, some time after, came to know that the mate was to have such a sum for
                  teaching me, he rebuked him, and said it was a shame for him to take any money
                  from me. However, my progress in this useful art was much retarded by the
                  constancy of our work. Had I wished to run away I did not want opportunities,
                  which frequently presented themselves; and particularly at one time, soon after
                  this. When we were at the island of Gaudaloupe there was a large fleet of
                  merchantmen bound for Old France; and, seamen then being very scarce, they gave
                  from fifteen to twenty pounds a man for the run. Our mate, and all the white
                  sailors, <pb n="254" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p254.jpg"/> left our vessel on
                  this account, and went on board of the French ships. They would have had me also
                  to go with them, for they regarded me; and swore to protect me, if I would go:
                  and, as the fleet was to sail the next day, I really believe I could have got safe
                  to Europe at that time. However, as my master was kind, I would not attempt to
                  leave him; still remembering the old maxim, that 'honesty is
                     the best policy,'  I suffered them to go without me. Indeed my captain
                  was much afraid of my leaving him and the vessel at that time, as I had so fair an
                  opportunity: but, I thank God, this fidelity of mine turned out much to my
                  advantage hereafter, when I did not in the least think of it; and made me so much
                  in favour with the captain, that he used now and then to teach me some parts of
                  navigation <pb n="255" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p255.jpg"/> himself; but some
                  of our passengers, and others, seeing this, found much fault with him for it,
                  saying it was a very dangerous thing to let a negro know navigation; thus I was
                  hindered again in my pursuits. About the latter end of the year 1764, my master
                  bought a larger sloop, called the Prudence, about seventy or eighty tons, of which
                  my captain had the command. I went with him into this vessel, and we took a load
                  of new slaves for Georgia and Charles Town. My master now left me entirely to the
                  captain, though he still wished for me to be with him; but I, who always much
                  wished to lose sight of the West Indies, was not a little
                  rejoiced at the thoughts of seeing any other country. Therefore, relying on the
                  goodness of my captain, I got ready all the little venture I could; and, when the
                  vessel <pb n="256" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p256.jpg"/> was ready, we sailed
                  to my great joy. When we got to our destined places, Georgia and Charles Town, I
                  expected I should have an opportunity of selling my little property to advantage:
                  but here, particularly in Charles Town, I met with buyers, white men, who imposed
                  on me as in other places. Notwithstanding, I was resolved to have fortitude;
                  thinking no lot or trial too hard when kind Heaven is the rewarder.</p>
               <p>We soon got loaded again, and returned to Montserrat; and there, amongst the rest
                  of the islands, I sold my goods well; and in this manner I continued trading
                  during the year 1764; meeting with various scenes of imposition, as usual. After
                  this, my master fitted out his vessel for Philadelphia, in the year 1765; and
                  during the time we were loading her, and getting <pb n="257" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p257.jpg"/> ready for the voyage, I worked with
                  redoubled alacrity, from the hope of getting money enough by these voyages to buy
                  my freedom, in time, if it should please God; and also to see the town of
                  Philadelphia, which I had heard a great deal about for some years past; besides
                  which, I had always longed to prove my master's promise the first day I came to
                  him. In the midst of these elevated ideas, and while I was about getting my little
                  merchandize in readiness, one Sunday my master sent for me to his house. When I
                  came there I found him and the captain together; and, on my going in, I was struck
                  with astonishment at his telling me he heard that I meant to run away from him
                  when I got to Philadelphia: 'And therefore,' said he,
                     'I must sell you again: you cost me a great deal of money,
                     no less than <pb n="258" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p258.jpg"/> forty pounds
                     sterling; and it will not do to lose so much. You are a valuable
                     fellow,' continued he; 'and I can get any day for
                     you one hundred guineas, from many gentlemen in this island.' And then
                  he told me of Captain Doran's brother-in-law, a severe master, who ever wanted to
                  buy me to make me his overseer. My captain also said he could get much more than a
                  hundred guineas for me in Carolina. This I knew to be a fact; for the gentleman
                  that wanted to buy me came off several times on board of us, and spoke to me to
                  live with him, and said he would use me well. When I asked what work he would put
                  me to, he said, as I was a sailor, he would make me a captain of one of his rice
                  vessels. But I refused: and fearing at the same time, by a sudden turn I saw in
                  the captain's temper, he might <pb n="259" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p259.jpg"/> mean to sell me, I told the gentleman I would not live with him on any
                  condition, and that I certainly would run away with his vessel: but he said he did
                  not fear that, as he would catch him again; and then he told me how cruelly he
                  would serve me if I should do so. My captain, however, gave him to understand that
                  I knew something of navigation: so he thought better of it; and, to my great joy,
                  he went away. I now told my master I did not say I would run away in Philadelphia;
                  neither did I mean it, as he did not use me ill, nor yet the captain: for if they
                  did I certainly would have made some attempts before now; but as I thought that if
                  it were God's will I ever should be freed it would be so, and, on the contrary, if
                  it was not his will it would not happen; so I hoped if ever I were freed, whilst I
                  was used <pb n="260" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p260.jpg"/> well, it should be
                  by honest means; but as I could not help myself, he must do as he pleased; I could
                  only hope and trust to the God of Heaven; and at that instant my mind was big with
                  inventions and full of schemes to escape. I then appealed to the captain whether
                  he ever saw any sign of my making the least attempt to run away; and asked him if
                  I did not always come on board according to the time for which he gave me liberty;
                  and, more particularly, when all our men left us at Gaudaloupe and went on board
                  of the French fleet, and advised me to go with them, whether I might not, and that
                  he could not have got me again. To my no small surprise, and very great joy, the
                  captain confirmed every syllable that I had said: and even more: for he said he
                  had tried different times to see if I <pb n="261" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p261.jpg"/> would make any attempt of this kind,
                  both at St. Eustatia and in America, and he never found that I made the smallest;
                  but on the contrary, I always came on board according to his orders; and he did
                  really believe, if I ever meant to run away, that, as I could never have had a
                  better opportunity, I would have done it the night the mate and all the people
                  left our vessel at Guadaloupe. The captain then informed my master, who had been
                  thus imposed on by our mate, (though I did not know who was my enemy,) the reason
                  the mate had for imposing this lie upon him; which was, because I had acquainted
                  the captain of the provisions the mate had given away or taken out of the vessel.
                  This speech of the captain was like life to the dead to me, and instantly my soul
                  glorified God; and still more so <pb n="262" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p262.jpg"/> on hearing my master immediately say
                  that I was a sensible fellow, and he never did intend to use me as a common slave;
                  and that but for the entreaties of the captain, and his character of me, he would
                  not have let me go from the stores about as I had done: that also, in so doing, he
                  thought by carrying one little thing or other to different places to sell I might
                  make money. That he also intended to encourage me in this, by crediting me with
                  half a puncheon of rum and half a hogshead of sugar at a time; so that, from being
                  careful, I might have money enough, in some time, to purchase my freedom; and,
                  when that was the case, I might depend upon it he would let me have it for forty
                  pounds sterling money, which was only the same price he gave for me. This sound
                  gladdened my poor heart beyond measure; though <pb n="263" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p263.jpg"/> indeed it was no more than the very
                  idea I had formed in my mind of my master long before, and I immediately made him
                  this reply: 'Sir, I always had that very thought of you,
                     indeed I had, and that made me so diligent in serving you.' He then
                  gave me a large piece of silver coin, such as I never had seen or had before, and
                  told me to get ready for the voyage, and he would credit me with a tierce of
                  sugar, and another of rum; he also said that he had two amiable sisters in
                  Philadelphia, from whom I might get some necessary things. Upon this my noble
                  captain desired me to go aboard; and, knowing the African metal, he charged me not
                  to say any thing of this matter to any body; and he promised that the lying mate
                  should not go with him any more. This was a change indeed; in the same hour to <pb n="264" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p264.jpg"/> feel the most exquisite pain,
                  and in the turn of a moment the fullest joy. It caused in me such sensations as I
                  was only able to express in my looks; my heart was so overpowered with gratitude
                  that I could have kissed both of their feet. When I left the room I immediately
                  went, or rather flew, to the vessel, which being loaded, my master, as good as his
                  word, trusted me with a tierce of rum, and another of sugar, when we sailed, and
                  arrived safe at the elegant town of Philadelphia. I soon sold my goods here pretty
                  well; and in this charming place I found every thing plentiful and cheap.</p>
               <p>While I was in this place a very extraordinary occurrence befell me. I had been
                  told one evening of a <hi rend="italic">wise</hi> woman, a Mrs. Davis, who
                  revealed secrets, foretold events, &amp; I put little faith in this story at first,
                  as I could <pb n="265" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p265.jpg"/> not conceive that
                  any mortal could foresee the future disposals of Providence, nor did I believe in
                  any other revelation than that of the Holy Scriptures; however, I was greatly
                  astonished at seeing this woman in a dream that night, though a person I never
                  before beheld in my life; this made such an impression on me, that I could not get
                  the idea the next day out of my mind, and I then became as anxious to see her as I
                  was before indifferent; accordingly in the evening, after we left off working, I
                  inquired where she lived, and being directed to her, to my inexpressible surprise,
                  beheld the very woman in the very same dress she appeared to me to wear in the
                  vision. She immediately told me I had dreamed of her the preceding night; related
                  to me many things that had happened <pb n="266" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p266.jpg"/> with a correctness that astonished
                  me; and finally told me I should not be long a slave: this was the more agreeable
                  news, as I believed it the more readily from her having so faithfully related the
                  past incidents of my life. She said I should be twice in very great danger of my
                  life within eighteen months, which, if I escaped, I should afterwards go on well;
                  so giving me her blessing, we parted. After staying here some time till our vessel
                  was loaded, and I had bought in my little traffic, we sailed from this agreeable
                  spot for Montserrat, once more to encounter the raging surfs.</p>
               <p>We arrived safe at Montserrat, where we discharged our cargo; and soon after that
                  we took slaves on board for St. Eustatia, and from thence to Georgia. I had always
                  exerted myself and did double work, in order to <pb n="267" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p267.jpg"/> make our voyages as short as
                  possible; and from thus overworking myself while we were at Georgia I caught a
                  fever and ague. I was very ill for eleven days and near dying; eternity was now
                  exceedingly impressed on my mind, and I feared very much that awful event. I
                  prayed the Lord therefore to spare me; and I made a promise in my mind to God,
                  that I would be good if ever I should recover. At length, from having an eminent
                  doctor to attend me, I was restored again to health; and soon after we got the
                  vessel loaded, and set off for Montserrat. During the passage, as I was perfectly
                  restored, and had much business of the vessel to mind, all my endeavours to keep
                  up my integrity, and perform my promise to God, began to fail; and, in spite of
                  all I could do, as we drew nearer and nearer to the <pb n="268" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p268.jpg"/> islands, my resolutions more and more
                  declined, as if the very air of that country or climate seemed fatal to piety.
                  When we were safe arrived at Montserrat, and I had got ashore, I forgot my former
                  resolutions.—Alas! how prone is the heart to leave that God it wishes to love! and
                  how strongly do the things of this world strike the senses and captivate the
                  soul!—After our vessel was discharged, we soon got her ready, and took in, as
                  usual, some of the poor oppressed natives of Africa, and other negroes; we then
                  set off again for Georgia and Charlestown. We arrived at Georgia, and, having
                  landed part of our cargo, proceeded to Charlestown with the remainder. While we
                  were there I saw the town illuminated; the guns were fired, and bonfires and other
                  demonstrations of joy shewn, on account of the repeal of the stamp <pb n="269" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p269.jpg"/> act. Here I disposed of some goods on
                  my own account; the white men buying them with smooth promises and fair words,
                  giving me, however, but very indifferent payment. There was one gentleman
                  particularly who bought a puncheon of rum of me, which gave me a great deal of
                  trouble; and, although I used the interest of my friendly captain, I could not
                  obtain any thing for it; for, being a negro man, I could not oblige him to pay me.
                  This vexed me much, not knowing how to act; and I lost some time in seeking after
                  this Christian; and though, when the Sabbath came (which the negroes usually make
                  their holiday) I was much inclined to go to public worship, I was obliged to hire
                  some black men to help to pull a boat across the water to go in quest of this
                  gentleman. When I found him, after much entreaty, both <pb n="270" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p270.jpg"/> from myself and my worthy captain, he
                  at last paid me in dollars; some of them, however, were copper, and of consequence
                  of no value; but he took advantage of my being a negro man, and obliged me to put
                  up with those or none, although I objected to them. Immediately after, as I was
                  trying to pass them in the market, amongst other white men, I was abused for
                  offering to pass bad coin; and, though I shewed them the man I got them from, I
                  was within one minute of being tied up and flogged without either judge or jury;
                  however, by the help of a good pair of heels, I ran off, and so escaped the <ref target="bastinado_" corresp="bastinado">bastinadoes</ref> I should have
                  received. I got on board as fast as I could, but still continued in fear of them
                  until we sailed, which I thanked God we did not long after; and I have never been
                  amongst them since.</p>
               <p>
                  <pb n="271" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p271.jpg"/> We soon came to Georgia,
                  where we were to complete our lading; and here worse fate than ever attended me:
                  for one Sunday night, as I was with some negroes in their master's yard in the
                  town of Savannah, it happened that their master, one Doctor Perkins, who was a
                  very severe and cruel man, came in drunk; and not liking to see any strange
                  negroes in his yard, he and a ruffian of a white man, he had in his service, beset
                  me in an instant, and both of them struck me with the first weapons they could get
                  hold of. I cried out as long as I could for help and mercy; but, though I gave a
                  good account of myself, and he knew my captain, who lodged hard by him, it was to
                  no purpose. They beat and mangled me in a shameful manner, leaving me near dead. I
                  lost so much blood from the wounds I received, <pb n="272" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p272.jpg"/> that I lay quite motionless, and was
                  so benumbed that I could not feel any thing for many hours. Early in the morning
                  they took me away to the jail. As I did not return to the ship all night, my
                  captain, not knowing where I was, and being uneasy that I did not then make my
                  appearance, he made inquiry after me; and, having found where I was, immediately
                  came to me. As soon as the good man saw me so cut and mangled, he could not
                  forbear weeping; he soon got me out of jail to his lodgings, and immediately sent
                  for the best doctors in the place, who at first declared it as their opinion that
                  I could not recover. My captain on this went to all the lawyers in the town for
                  their advice, but they told him they could do nothing for me as I was a negro. He
                  then went to Doctor Perkins, the hero who had vanquished <pb n="273" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p273.jpg"/> me, and menaced him, swearing he
                  would be revenged of him, and challenged him to fight.—But cowardice is ever the
                  companion of cruelty—and the Doctor refused. However, by the skilfulness of one
                  Doctor Brady of that place, I began at last to amend; but, although I was so sore
                  and bad with the wounds I had all over me that I could not rest in any posture,
                  yet I was in more pain on account of the captain's uneasiness about me than I
                  otherwise should have been. The worthy man nursed and watched me all the hours of
                  the night; and I was, through his attention and that of the doctor, able to get
                  out of bed in about sixteen or eighteen days. All this time I was very much wanted
                  on board, as I used frequently to go up and down the river for rafts, and other
                  parts of our cargo, and stow them, <pb n="274" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol1-p274.jpg"/> when the mate was sick or absent. In
                  about four weeks I was able to go on duty; and in a fortnight after, having got in
                  all our lading, our vessel set sail for Montserrat; and in less than three weeks
                  we arrived there safe towards the end of the year. This ended my adventures in
                  1764; for I did not leave Montserrat again till the beginning of the following
                  year.</p>
            </div>
            <trailer>END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.</trailer>
         </div>
         <div type="volume" n="2">
            
            <pb n="Frontispiece" facs="pageImages/bahama-banks.jpg"/>
            <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/equiano-interesting-narrative/pageImages/bahama-banks.jpg" style="float:center" width="500px" alt="Frontispiece to volume II, from the second edition, courtesy Albert Small Special Collections Library, University of Virginia" source="Albert Small Special Collections Library, University of Virginia" desc="Frontispiece image from second edition of Equiano's book"/>
            <pb n="1" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p1.jpg"/> <head type="title">THE LIFE, &amp;c.</head>
            <div n="7" type="chapter">
               <head>CHAP. VII.</head>
               
                  <p>
                     <hi rend="italic">The author's disgust at the West Indies—Forms schemes to
                        obtain his freedom—Ludicrous disappointment he and his Captain meet with in
                        Georgia—At last, by several successful voyages, he acquires a sum of money
                        sufficient to purchase it—Applies to his master, who accepts it, and grants
                        his manumission, to his great joy—He afterwards enters as a freeman on board
                        one of Mr. King's ships, and sails for Georgia—Impositions on free
                        negroes</hi>
                     <pb n="2" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p2.jpg"/>
                     <hi rend="italic">as usual—His venture of turkies—sails for Montserrat, and on
                        his passage his friend the Captain, falls ill and dies.</hi>
                  </p>
               
               <p>EVERY day now brought me nearer my freedom, and I was impatient till we proceeded
                  again to sea, that I might have an opportunity of getting a sum large enough to
                  purchase it. I was not long ungratified; for, in the begining of the year 1766,
                  my master bought another sloop, named the Nancy, the largest I had ever seen. She
                  was partly laden, and was to proceed to Philadelphia; our Captain had his choice
                  of three, and I was well pleased he chose this, which was the largest; for, from
                  his having a large vessel, I had more room, and could carry a larger quantity of
                  goods with me. Accordingly, when we had delivered our old vessel, the Prudence,
                  and completed the lading of <pb n="3" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p3.jpg"/> the
                  Nancy, having made near three hundred per cent, by four barrels of pork I brought
                  from Charlestown, I laid in as large a cargo as I could, trusting to God's
                  providence to prosper my undertaking. With these views I sailed for Philadelphia.
                  On our passage, when we drew near the land, I was for the first time surprised at
                  the sight of some whales, having never seen any such large sea monsters before;
                  and as we sailed by the land, one morning I saw a puppy whale close by the vessel;
                  it was about the length of a <ref target="wherry_" corresp="wherry">wherry
                     boat</ref>, and it followed us all the day till we got within the Capes. We
                  arrived safe and in good time at Philadelphia, and I sold my goods there chiefly
                  to the quakers. They always appeared to be a very honest discreet sort of people,
                  and never attempted to impose on me; I therefore liked them, and ever after chose
                  to deal <pb n="4" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p4.jpg"/> with them in preference
                  to any others.</p>
               <p>One sunday morning while I was here, as I was going to church, I chanced to pass a
                  meeting-house. The doors being open, and the house full of people, it excited my
                  curiosity to go in. When I entered the house, to my great surprise, I saw a very
                  tall woman standing in the midst of them, speaking in an audible voice something
                  which I could not understand. Having never seen any thing of this kind before, I
                  stood and stared about me for some time, wondering at this odd scene. As soon as
                  it was over, I took an opportunity to make inquiry about the place and people,
                  when I was informed they were called Quakers. I particularly asked what that woman
                  I saw in the midst of them had said, but none of them were pleased to satisfy me,
                  so I quitted them, and soon after, as I was returning, I came to a church <pb n="5" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p5.jpg"/> crowded with people; the
                  church-yard was full likewise, and a number of people were even mounted on
                  ladders, looking in at the windows. I thought this a strange sight, as I had never
                  seen churches, either in England or the West Indies crowded in this manner before.
                  I therefore made bold to ask some people the meaning of all this, and they told
                  me the Rev. Mr. George Whitfield was preaching. I had often heard of this
                  gentleman, and had wished to see and hear him; but I had never before had an
                  opportunity. I now therefore resolved to gratify myself with the sight, and
                  pressed in amidst the multitude. When I got into the church I saw this pious man
                  exhorting the people with the greatest fervour and earnestness, and sweating as
                  much as I ever did while in slavery on Montserrat beach. I was very much struck
                  and impressed with <pb n="6" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p6.jpg"/> this; I
                  thought it strange I had never seen divines exert themselves in this manner
                  before, and was no longer at a loss to account for the thin congregations they
                  preached to.</p>
               <p>When we had discharged our cargo here, and were loaded again, we left this
                  fruitful land once more, and set sail for Montserrat. My <ref target="traffic_" corresp="traffic">traffic</ref> had hitherto succeeded so well with me, that I
                  thought by selling my goods when we arrived at Montserrat, I should have enough to
                  purchase my freedom. But as soon as our vessel arrived there, my master came on
                  board, and gave orders for us to go to St. Eustatia, and discharge our cargo
                  there, and from thence proceed for Georgia. I was much disappointed at this; but,
                  thinking as usual, it was of no use to encounter with the decrees of fate, I
                  submitted without repining, and we went to St. Eustatia. After we <pb n="7" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p7.jpg"/> had discharged our cargo there, we took
                  in a live cargo, (as we call a cargo of slaves.) Here I sold my goods tolerably
                  well; but, not being able to lay out all my money in this small island to as much
                  advantage as in many other places, I laid out only part, and the remainder I
                  brought away with me <ref target="neat_" corresp="neat">neat</ref>. We sailed from
                  hence for Georgia, and I was glad when we got there, though I had not much reason
                  to like the place from my last adventure in Savannah; but I longed to get back to
                  Montserrat and procure my freedom, which I expected to be able to purchase when I
                  returned. As soon as we arrived here I waited on my careful doctor, Mr. Brady, to
                  whom I made the most grateful acknowledgments in my power for his former kindness
                  and attention during my illness.</p>
               <p>While we remained here an odd circumstance happened to the captain <pb n="8" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p8.jpg"/> and me, which disappointed us both a
                  good deal. A silversmith, whom we had brought to this place some voyages before,
                  agreed with the Captain to return with us to the West Indies, and promised at the
                  same time to give the Captain a great deal of money, having pretended to take a
                  liking to him, and being, as we thought, very rich. But while we stayed to load
                  our vessel, this man was taken ill, in a house where we worked, and in a week's
                  time became very bad. The worse he grew the more he used to speak of giving the
                  Captain what he had promised him, so that he expected something considerable from
                  the death of this man, who had no wife or child, and he attended him day and
                  night. I used also to go with the Captain, at his own desire, to attend him:
                  especially when we saw there was no appearance of his recovery: and, in <pb n="9" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p9.jpg"/> order to recompense me for my trouble,
                  the Captain promised me ten pounds, when he should get the man's property. I
                  thought this would be of great service to me, although I had nearly money enough
                  to purchase my freedom, if I should get safe this voyage to Montserrat. In this
                  expectation I laid out above eight pounds of my money for a suit of superfine
                  clothes to dance in at my freedom, which I hoped was then at hand.--- We still
                  continued to attend this man, being with him the last day he lived till very late
                  at night. After we were got to bed, about one or two o'clock in the morning, the
                  Captain was sent for, and informed the man was dead. On this he came to my bed,
                  and, waking me, informed me of it, and desired me to get up and procure a light,
                  and immediately go with him. I told him I <pb n="10" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p10.jpg"/> was very sleepy, and wished he would
                  take somebody else with him; or else, as the man was dead, and could want no
                  farther attendance, to let all things remain as they were till the next morning.
                    'No, no,' said he, 'we will have the money to night, I cannot wait
                     till to-morrow; so let us go.' Accordingly I got up and struck a light,
                  and away we both went, and saw the man as dead as we could wish. The Captain said
                  he would give him a grand burial, in gratitude for the promised treasure; and
                  desired that all the things belonging to the deceased might be brought forth.
                  Amongnst others there was a nest of drawers, of which he had kept the keys whilst
                  the man was ill, and we opened them with no small eagerness and expectation; and
                  as there were a great number within one another, with much impatience we <pb n="11" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p11.jpg"/> took them one out of the other.
                  At last, when we came to the smallest, and had opened it, we perceived it to be
                  full of papers, and supposed to be notes; at the sight of which our hearts leapt
                  for joy; and that instant the Captain clapping his hands, cried out, 'Thank God here it is.' But when we came to
                  the supposed treasure and long-looked-for bounty, (alas! alas! how uncertain and
                  deceitful are all human affairs!) what had we found? While we thought we were
                  embracing a substance, we grasped an empty nothing. The whole amount in the nest
                  of drawers being only one dollar and a half; and all that the man possessed would
                  not pay for his coffin! Our sudden and exquisite joy was now succeeded by a
                  sudden and exquisite pain; and my Captain and I exhibited, for some time, most
                  ridiculous <pb n="12" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p12.jpg"/> figures—pictures of
                  chagrin and disappointment! We returned greatly mortified, and left the deceased
                  to do as well as he could for himself, as we had taken so good care of him when
                  alive for nothing. We set sail once more for Montserrat, and arrived there safe;
                  but much out of humour with our friend the silversmith. When we had unladen the
                  vessel, and I had sold my venture, finding myself master of about forty-seven
                  pounds, I consulted my true friend, the Captain, how I should proceed in offering
                  my master the money for my freedom. He told me to come on a certain morning, when
                  he and my master would be at breakfast together. Accordingly, on that morning I
                  went, and met the Captain there, as he had appointed. When I went in I made my
                     <ref target="obeisance_" corresp="obeisance">obeisance</ref> to my master, and
                  with my money in my hand, and many fears in my heart, <pb n="13" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p13.jpg"/> I prayed him to be as good as his
                  offer to me, when he was pleased to promise me my freedom as soon as I could
                  purchase it. This speech seemed to confound him; he began to recoil; and my heart
                  that instant sunk within me. 'What,' said he, 'give you your freedom? Why, where did you get the
                     money? Have you got forty-pounds sterling?'
                  'Yes, sir,' I answered. 'How did you get it?' replied he. I told
                  him, very honestly. The Captain then said he knew I got the money very honestly
                  and with much industry, and that I was particularly careful. On which my master
                  replied, I got money much faster than he did; and said he would not have made me
                  the promise which he did if he had thought I should have got money so soon. 'Come, come,' said my worthy Captain,
                  clapping my master on the back, 'Come, <pb n="14" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p14.jpg"/> Robert, (which was his name)
                     I think you must let him have his freedom;—you have laid your money out very
                     well; you have received good interest for it all this time, and here is now the
                     principal at last. I know Gustavas has earned you more than an hundred a-year,
                     and he will still save you money, as he will not leave you:—Come, Robert, take
                     the money.' My master then said, he would not be worse than his
                  promise; and, taking the money, told me to go to the secretary at the Register
                  Office, and get my <ref target="manumission_" corresp="manumission">manumission</ref> drawn up. These words of my master were like a voice from
                  heaven to me: in an in stant all my trepidation was turned into unutterable bliss,
                  and I most reverently bowed myself with gratitude, unable to express my feelings,
                  but by the overflowing of my eyes, and a heart replete <pb n="15" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p15.jpg"/> with thanks to God; while my true and
                  worthy friend the Captain, congratulated us both with a peculiar degree of
                  heart-felt pleasure. As soon as the first transports of my joy were over, and that
                  I had expressed my thanks to these my worthy friends in the best manner I was
                  able, I rose with a heart full of affection and reverence, and left the room, in
                  order to obey my master's joyful mandate of going to the Register Office. As I
                  was leaving the house I called to mind the words of the Psalmist, in the 126th
                  Psalm, and like him, 'I glorified God in my
                     heart, in whom I trusted.' These words had been impressed on my mind
                  from the very day I was forced from Deptford to the present hour; and I now saw
                  them, as I thought, fulfilled and verified. My imagination was all rapture as I
                  flew to the Register Office; and, in this respect, <pb n="16" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p16.jpg"/> like the apostle <ref target="peter_" corresp="peter">Peter</ref>, (whose deliverance from prison was so sudden and
                  ex traordinary, that he thought he was in a vision) I could scarcely believe I was
                  awake. Heavens! who could do justice to my feelings at this moment! Not conquering
                  heroes themselves, in the midst of a triumph—Not the tender mother who has just
                  regained her long lost infant, and presses it to her heart—Not the weary hungry
                  mariner, at the sight of the desired friendly port—Not the lover, when he once
                  more embraces his beloved mistress, after she has been ravished from his arms!—All
                  within my breast was tumult, wildness, and delirium! My feet scarcely touched the
                  ground; for they were winged with joy, and, like Elijah, <ref target="elijah_" corresp="elijah">as he rose to Heaven</ref>, they 'were with lightning sped as I went on.'
                  Every one I met I told of <note xml:id="elijah" target="elijah_">Acts xii. 9. [Equiano's note]</note>
                  <pb n="17" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p17.jpg"/> my happiness and blazed about
                  the virtue of my amiable master and captain.</p>
               <p>When I got to the office and acquainted the Register with my errand, he
                  congratulated me on the occasion, and told me he would draw up my manumission for
                  half-price, which was a guinea. I thanked him for his kindness; and, having
                  received it and paid him, I hastened to my master to get him to sign it, that I
                  might be fully released. Accordingly he signed the manumission that day; so that,
                  before night I, who had been a slave in the morning, trembling at the will of
                  another, was become my own master and completely free. I thought this was the
                  happiest day I had ever experienced; and my joy was still heightened by the
                  blessings and prayers of many of the sable race, particularly the aged, to whom my
                  heart had ever been attached with reverence.</p>
               <p>
                  <pb n="18" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p18.jpg"/> As the form of my manumission
                  has something peculiar in it, and expresses the absolute power and dominion one
                  man claims over his fellow. I shall beg leave to present it before my readers at
                  full length:</p>
             
                  <p>
                     <hi rend="italic">Montserrat</hi>.—To all men unto whom these presents shall
                     come; I Robert King, of the parish of St. Anthony in the said island, merchant,
                     send greeting: Know ye that I the aforesaid Robert King, for and in
                     consideration of the sum of seventy pounds current money of the said island,
                     to me in hand paid, and to the intent that a negro man-slave, named GUSTAVUS
                     VASA, shall and may become free, have manumitted, emancipated, enfranchised,
                     and set free, and by these presents do manumit, emancipate, enfranchise, and
                     set free, the aforesaid negro man-slave, <pb n="19" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p19.jpg"/> named GUSTAVUS VASA, for ever;
                     hereby giving, granting, and releasing unto him, the said GUSTAVUS VASA, all
                     right, title, dominion, sovereignty, and property, which, as lord and master
                     over the aforesaid Gustavus Vasa, I had, or now have, or by any means whatsoever I may or can hereafter possibly have over him the aforesaid negro, for
                     ever. In witness whereof, I the abovesaid Robert King have unto these presents
                     set my hand and seal, this tenth day of July, in the year of our Lord one
                     thousand seven hundred and sixty six.</p>
                  <p>ROBERT KING.</p>
                  <p>Signed, sealed, and delivered in the presence of Terry Legay, Montserrat.</p>
                  <p>Registered the within manumission at full length, this eleventh day of July,
                     1766, in liber D.</p>
                  <p>TERRY LEGAY, Register. </p>
               
               <p>
                  <pb n="20" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p20.jpg"/> In short, the fair as well as
                  black people immediately styled me by a new appellation, to me the most desirable
                  in the world, which was Freeman, and at the dances I gave, my Georgia superfine
                  blue clothes made no indifferent appearance as I thought. Some of the sable
                  females, who formerly stood aloof, now began to relax and appear less coy; but my
                  heart was still fixed on London, where I hoped to be ere long. So that my worthy
                  captain and his owner my late master, finding that the bent of my mind was towards
                     <hi rend="italic">London</hi>, said to me, 'We hope you won't leave us, but that you will still be with the
                     vessels.' Here gratitude bowed me down; and none but the generous mind
                  can judge of my feelings, struggling between in clination and duty. However,
                  notwithstanding my wish to be in London, I obediently answered my benefactors <pb n="21" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p21.jpg"/> that I would go in the vessel,
                  and not leave them; and from that day I was entered on board as an able-bodied
                  seaman, at thirty-six shillings per month, besides what perquisites I could make.
                  My intention was to make a voyage or two entirely to please these my honoured
                  patrons; but I determined that the year following, if it pleased God, I would see
                  Old England, once more, and surprise my old master, Capt. Pascal, who was hourly
                  in my mind; for I still loved him, notwithstanding his usage of me, and I pleased
                  myself with thinking of what he would say when he saw what the Lord had done for
                  me in so short a time, instead of being, as he might perhaps suppose, under the
                  cruel yoke of some planter. With these kind of reveries I used often to entertain
                  my self, and shorten the time till my return; and now, being as in my original
                  free <pb n="22" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p22.jpg"/> African state, I embarked
                  on board the Nancy, after having got all things ready for our voyage. In this
                  state of serenity we sailed for St. Eustatia; and having smooth seas and calm
                  weather, we soon arrived there; after taking our cargo on board, we proceeded to
                  Savannah in Georgia, in August, 1766. While we were there, as usual, I used to go
                  for the cargo up the rivers in boats; and on this business have been frequently
                  beset by Alligators, which were very numerous on that coast; and shot many of them
                  when they have been near getting into our boats; which we have with great
                  difficulty sometimes prevented, and have been very much frightened at them. I have
                  seen a young one sold in Georgia alive for sixpence.</p>
               <p>During our stay at this place, one evening a slave belonging to Mr. <pb n="23" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p23.jpg"/> Read, a merchant of Savannah, came
                  near our vessel, and began to use me very ill. I entreated him to desist, as I
                  knew there was little or no law for a free negro here; but the fellow, instead of
                  taking my advice, persevered in his insults, and even struck me. At this I lost
                  all temper, and fell on him, and beat him soundly. The next morning his master
                  came to our vessel as we lay alongside the wharf, and desired me to come ashore
                  that he might have me flogged all round the town, for beating his negro slave! I
                  told him he had insulted me, and had given the provocation, by first striking me.
                  I had told my captain also the whole affair that morning, and desired him to go
                  along with me to Mr. Read, to prevent bad consequences: but he said that it did
                  not signify, and if Mr. <hi rend="italic"> Read</hi> said <pb n="24" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p24.jpg"/> any thing he would make matters up,
                  and desired me to go to work, which I accordingly did. The Captain being on board
                  when Mr. Read came and applied to him to deliver me up, he said he knew nothing of
                  the matter, I was a free man. I was astonished and frightened at this, and thought
                  I had better keep where I was than go ashore and be flogged round the town, with
                  out judge or jury. I therefore refused to stir; and Mr. Read went away, swearing
                  he would bring all the con stables in the town, for he would have me out of the
                  vessel. When he was gone, I thought his threat might prove too true to my sorrow;
                  and I was confirmed in this belief, as well by the many instances I had seen of
                  the treatment of free negroes, as from a fact that had happened within my own
                  knowledge here a short time before.</p>
               <p>
                  <pb n="25" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p25.jpg"/> There was a free black man, a
                  carpenter, that I knew, who for asking a gentleman that he worked for, for the
                  money he had earned, was put into <ref target="gaol_" corresp="gaol">gaol</ref>;
                  and afterwards this oppressed man was sent from Georgia, with false accusations,
                  of an intention to set the gentleman's house on fire, and run away with his
                  slaves. I was therefore much embarrassed, and very apprehensive of a flogging at
                  least. I dreaded, of all things, the thoughts of being striped, as I never in my
                  life had the marks of any violence of that kind. At that instant a rage seized my
                  soul, and for a little I determined to resist the first man that should offer to
                  lay violent hands on me, or basely use me without a trial; for I would sooner die
                  like a free man, than suffer myself to be scourged by the hands of ruffians, and
                  my blood drawn like a slave. The captain and others, <pb n="26" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p26.jpg"/> more cautious, advised me to make
                  haste and conceal myself; for they said Mr. Read was a very spiteful man, and he
                  would soon come on board with constables and take me. At first I refused this
                  counsel, being determined to stand my ground; but at length, by the prevailing
                  entreaties of the Captain and Mr. Dixon, with whom he lodged, I went to Mr.
                  Dixon's house, which was a little out of town, at a place called <hi rend="italic">Yea-ma-chra</hi>. I was but just gone when Mr. Read, with the constables, came
                  for me, and searched the vessel; but, not finding me there, he swore he would have
                  me dead or alive. I was <ref target="secret_" corresp="secret">secreted</ref>
                  about five days; however, the good character which my captain always gave me as
                  well as some other gentlemen who also knew me, procured me some friends. At last
                  some of them told my Captain that he did not use me <pb n="27" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p27.jpg"/> well, in suffering me thus to be
                  imposed upon, and said they would see me redressed, and get me on board some other
                  vessel. My Captain, on this, immediately went to Mr. Read, and told him, that ever
                  since I eloped from the vessel his work had been neglected, and he could not go on
                  with her loading, himself and mate not being well; and, as I had managed things on
                  board for them, my absence must retard his voyage, and consequently hurt the
                  owner; he therefore begged of him to forgive me, as he said he never heard any
                  complaint of me before, during the several years I had been with him. After
                  repeated entreaties, Mr. Read said I might go to hell, and that he would not
                  meddle with me; on which my Captain came immediately to me at his lodging, and,
                  telling me how pleasantly matters had gone on, desired me to go on board.</p>
               <p>
                  <pb n="28" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p28.jpg"/> Some of my other friends then
                  asked him if he had got the constable's warrant from them; the Captain said, No.
                  On this I was desired by them to stay in the house; and they said they would get
                  me on board of some other vessel before the evening. When the Captain heard this
                  he became almost distracted. He went immediately for the warrant, and, after using
                  every exertion in his power, he at last got it from my hunters; but I had all the
                  expences to pay.</p>
               <p>After I had thanked all my friends for their kindness, I went on board again to my
                  work, of which I had always plenty. We were in haste to complete our <ref target="lading_" corresp="lading">lading</ref>, and were to carry twenty head
                  of cattle with us to the West-Indies, where they are a very profitable article. In
                  order to encourage me in working, and to make up for the time I had lost, my
                  Captain promised me the privilege of carrying two <ref target="bullocks_" corresp="bullocks">bullocks</ref> of <pb n="29" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p29.jpg"/> my own with me; and this made me work
                  with redoubled ardour. As soon as I had got the vessel loaded, in doing which I
                  was obliged to perform the duty of the mate as well as my own work, and that the
                  bullocks were near coming on board, I asked the Captain leave to bring my two,
                  according to his promise; but, to my great surprise, he told me there was no room
                  for them. I then asked him to permit me to take one; but he said he could not. I
                  was a good deal mortified at this usage, and told him I had no notion that he
                  intended thus to impose on me; nor could I think well of any man that was so much
                  worse than his word. On this we had some disagreement, and I gave him to
                  understand, that I intended to leave the vessel. At this he appeared to be very
                  much dejected; and our mate who had been very sickly, and whose <pb n="30" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p30.jpg"/> duty had long devolved upon me,
                  advised him to persuade me to stay: in consequence of which he spoke very kindly
                  to me, making many fair promises, telling me, that, as the mate was so sickly, he
                  could not do without me; and that, as the safety of the vessel and cargo depended
                  greatly upon me, he therefore hoped that I would not be offended at what had
                  passed between us, and swore he would make up all matters when we arrived in the
                  West-Indies; so I consented to slave on as before. Soon after this, as the
                  bullocks were coming on board, one of them ran at the Captain, and butted him so
                  furiously in the breast, that he never recovered of the blow. In order to make me
                  some amends for his treatment about the bullocks, the Captain now pressed me very
                  much to take some turkeys, and other fowls, with me, and gave me liberty to <pb n="31" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p31.jpg"/> take as many as I could find
                  room for: but I told him he knew very well I had never carried any turkeys before,
                  as I always thought they were such tender birds that they were not fit to cross
                  the seas. However, he continued to press me to buy them for once; and, what seemed
                  very surprising to me, the more I was against it, the more he urged my taking
                  them, insomuch that he ensured me from all losses that might happen by them, and I
                  was prevailed on to take them; but I thought this very strange, as he had never
                  acted so with me before. This, and not being able to dispose of my paper-money any
                  other way, induced me at length to take four dozen. The turkeys, however, I was so
                  dissatisfied about that I determined to make no more voyages to this quarter, nor
                  with this captain; and was very apprehensive that my free voyage would be the
                  worst I had ever made.</p>
               <p>
                  <pb n="32" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p32.jpg"/> We set sail for Montserrat.
                  The captain and mate had been both complaining of sickness when we sailed, and as
                  we proceeded on our voyage they grew worse. This was about November, and we had
                  not been long at sea before we began to meet with strong northerly gales and rough
                  seas; and in about seven or eight days all the bullocks were near being drowned,
                  and four or five of them died. Our vessel, which had not been <ref target="tight_" corresp="tight">tight</ref> at first, was much less so now: and, though we were
                  but nine in the whole, including five sailors and myself, yet we were obliged to
                  attend to the pumps every half or three quarters of an hour. The captain and mate
                  came on deck as often as they were able, which was now but seldom; for they
                  declined so fast, that they were not well enough to make observations above four
                  or five times the whole voyage. <pb n="33" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p33.jpg"/> The whole care of the vessel rested, therefore upon me, and I was obliged to
                  direct her by mere dint of reason, not being able to work a traverse. The captain
                  was now very sorry he had not taught me navigation, and protested, if ever he
                  should get well again, he would not fail to do so; but in about seventeen days his
                  illness increased so much, that he was obliged to keep his bed, continuing
                  sensible, however, till the last, constantly having the owner's interest at heart;
                  for this just and benevolent man ever appeared much concerned about the welfare of
                  what he was intrusted with. When this dear friend found the symptoms of death
                  approaching, he called me by my name; and, when I came to him, he asked (with
                  almost his last breath) if he had ever done me any harm? 'God forbid I should think so,' replied I,
                     'I should <pb n="34" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p34.jpg"/> then be the most ungrateful of
                     wretches to the best of benefactors.' While I was thus expressing my
                  affection and sorrow by his bedside, he expired without saying another word; and
                  the day following we committed his body to the deep. Every man on board loved him,
                  and regretted his death; but I was exceedingly affected at it, and found that I
                  did not know, till he was gone, the strength of my regard for him. Indeed I had
                  every reason in the world to be attached to him; for, besides that he was in
                  general mild, affable, generous, faithful, benevolent, and just, he was to me a
                  friend and father; and had it pleased Providence, that he had died about five
                  months before, I verily believe I should not have obtained my freedom when I did;
                  and it is no improbable that I might not have been able to get it at any rate
                  afterwards.</p>
               <p>
                  <pb n="35" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p35.jpg"/> The captain being dead, the
                  mate came on the deck, and made such observations as he was able, but to no
                  purpose. In the course of a few days more, the few bullocks that remained were
                  found dead; but the turkies I had, though on the deck, and exposed to so much wet
                  and bad weather, did well, and I afterwards gained near three hundred per cent, on
                  the sale of them; so that in the event it proved a happy circumstance for me that
                  I had not bought the bullocks I intended, for they must have perished with the
                  rest; and I could not help looking on this, otherwise trifling circumstance, as a
                  particular providence of God, and was thankful accordingly. The care of the vessel
                  took up all my time, and engaged my attention entirely. As we were now out of the
                  variable winds, I thought I should not be much puzzled to <pb n="36" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p36.jpg"/> hit upon the islands. I was persuaded
                  I steered right for Antigua, which I wished to reach, as the nearest to us; and in
                  the course of nine or ten days we made this island, to our great joy; and the day
                  after we came safe to Montserrat.</p>
               <p>Many were surprised when they heard of my conducting the sloop into the port, and
                  I now obtained a new <ref target="appellation_" corresp="appellation">appellation</ref>, and was called Captain. This elated me not a little, and it
                  was quite flattering to my vanity to be thus styled by as high a title as any
                  freeman in this place possessed. When the death of the captain became known, he
                  was much regretted by all who knew him; for he was a man universally respected. At
                  the same time the sable Captain lost no fame; for the success I had met with
                  increased the affection of my friends in no small measure.</p>
            </div>
            <div n="8" type="chapter">
               <pb n="37" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p37.jpg"/>
               <head>CHAP. VIII.</head>
               
                  <p>
                     <hi rend="italic">The author, to oblige Mr. King, once more embarks for Georgia
                        in one of his vessels—A new captain is appointed—They sail, and steer a new
                        course—Three remarkable dreams—The vessel is shipwrecked on the Bahama Bank,
                        but the crew are preserved, principally by means of the author—He sets out
                        from the island with the captain, in a small boat, in quest of a ship—Their
                        distress—Meet with a wrecker—Sail for Providence—Are overtaken again by a
                        terrible storm, and are all near perishing—Arrive at New Providence—The
                        author, after some time, sails from thence to Georgia—Meets with another
                        storm, and is obliged to put back and resit—Arrives at Georgia—Meets new
                        impositions—Two white men attempt</hi>
                     <pb n="38" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p38.jpg"/>
                     <hi rend="italic">to kidnap him—Officiates as a parson at a funeral
                        ceremony—Bids adieu to Georgia, and sails for Martinico.</hi>
                  </p>
               
               <p>As I had now, by the death of my captain, lost my great benefactor and friend, I
                  had little inducement to remain longer in the West Indies, except my gratitude to
                  Mr. King, which I thought I had pretty well discharged in bringing back his vessel
                  safe, and delivering his cargo to his satisfaction. I began to think of leaving
                  this part of the world, of which I had been long tired, and returning to England,
                  where my heart had always been; but Mr. King still pressed me very much to stay
                  with his vessel; and he had done so much for me that I found myself unable to
                  refuse his requests, and consented to go another voyage to Georgia, as the mate,
                  from his ill state of health, <pb n="39" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p39.jpg"/>
                  was quite useless in the vessel. Accordingly a new captain was appointed, whose
                  name was William Phillips, an old acquaintance of mine; and, having refitted our
                  vessel, and taken several slaves on board, we set sail for St. Eustatia, where we
                  stayed but a few days: and on the 30th of January 1767, we steered for Georgia.
                  Our new captain boasted strangely of his skill in navigating and conducting a
                  vessel; and in consequence of this he steered a new course, several points more to
                  the westward than we ever did before; this appeared to me very extraordinary.</p>
               <p>On the fourth of February, which was soon after we had got into our new course, I
                  dreamt the ship was wrecked amidst the surfs and rocks, and that I was the means
                  of saving every one on board; and on the night following I dreamed the very same
                  dream. These <pb n="40" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p40.jpg"/> dreams however
                  made no impression on my mind; and the next evening, it being my watch below, I
                  was pumping the vessel a little after eight o'clock, just before I went off the
                  deck, as is the custom; and being weary with the duty of the day, and tired at the
                  pump, (for we made a good deal of water) I began to express my impatience, and
                  uttered with an oath, 'Damn the vessel's bottom
                     out.' But my conscience instantly smote me for the expression. When I
                  left the deck I went to bed, and had scarcely fallen asleep when I dreamed the
                  same dream again about the ship as I had dreamt the two preceeding nights. At
                  twelve o'clock the watch was changed; and, as I had always the charge of the
                  captain's watch, I then went upon deck. At half after one in the morning the man
                  at the helm saw something under <pb n="41" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p41.jpg"/> the <ref target="leebeam_" corresp="leebeam">lee-beam</ref> that the sea washed
                  against, and he immediately called to me that there was a <ref target="grampus_" corresp="grampus">grampus</ref>, and desired me to look at it. Accordingly I
                  stood up and observed it for some time; but, when I saw the sea wash up against it
                  again and again, I said it was not a fish but a rock. Being soon certain of this,
                  I went down to the captain, and, with some confusion, told him the danger we were
                  in, and desired him to come upon deck immediately. He said it was very well, and I
                  went up again. As soon as I was upon deck, the wind, which had been pretty high,
                  having abated a little, the vessel began to be carried sideways towards the rock,
                  by means of the current. Still the captain did not appear. I therefore went to him
                  again, and told him the vessel was then near a large rock, and desired he would
                  come up with all speed. <pb n="42" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p42.jpg"/> He
                  said he would, and I returned to the deck. When I was upon the deck again I saw we
                  were not above a pistol shot from the rock, and I heard the noise of the breakers
                  all around us. I was exceedingly alarmed at this; and the captain having not yet
                  come on the deck I lost all patience; and, growing quite enraged, I ran down to
                  him again, and asked him why he did not come up, and what he could mean by all
                  this? 'The breakers,' said I, 'are round us, and the vessel is almost on the
                     rock.' With that he came on the deck with me, and we tried to put the
                  vessel about, and get her out of the current, but all to no purpose, the wind
                  being very small. We then called all hands up immediately; and after a little we
                  got up one end of a cable, and fastened it to the anchor. By this time the surf
                  was foamed round us, and <pb n="43" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p43.jpg"/> made
                  a dreadful noise on the breakers, and the very moment we let the anchor go the
                  vessel struck against the rocks. One swell now succeeded another, as it were one
                  wave calling on its fellow; the roaring of the billows increased, and, with one
                  single heave of the swells, the sloop was pierced and transfixed among the rocks!
                  in a moment a scene of horror presented itself to my mind, such as I never had
                  conceived or experienced before. All my sins stared me in the face; and
                  especially, I thought that God had hurled his direful vengeance on my guilty head
                  for cursing the vessel on which my life depended. My spirits at this forsook me,
                  and I expected every moment to go to the bottom: I determined if I should still be
                  saved that I would never swear again. And in the midst of my distress, while the
                  dreadful <pb n="44" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p44.jpg"/> surfs were dashing
                  with unremitting fury among the rocks, I remembered the Lord, though fearful that
                  I was undeserving of forgiveness, and I thought that as he had often delivered he
                  might yet deliver; and, calling to mind the many mercies he had shewn me in times
                  past, they gave me some small hope that he might still help me. I then began to
                  think how we might be saved; and I believe no mind was ever like mine so replete
                  with inventions and confused with schemes, though how to escape death I knew not.
                  The captain immediately ordered the hatches to be nailed down on the slaves in the
                  hold, where there were above twenty, all of whom must unavoidably have perished if
                  he had been obeyed. When he desired the man to nail down the hatches I thought
                  that my sin was the cause of this, and that God would <pb n="45" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p45.jpg"/> charge me with these people's blood.
                  This thought rushed upon my mind that instant with such violence, that it quite
                  overpowered me, and I fainted. I recovered just as the people were about to nail
                  down the hatches; perceiving which, I desired them to stop. The captain then said
                  it must be done: I asked him why? He said that every one would endeavour to get
                  into the boat, which was but small, and thereby we should be drowned; for it would
                  not have carried above ten at the most. I could no longer restrain my emotion, and
                  I told him he deserved drowning for not knowing how to navigate the vessel; and I
                  believe the people would have tossed him overboard if I had given them the least
                  hint of it. However the hatches were not nailed down; and, as none of us could
                  leave the vessel then on account of the darkness, <pb n="46" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p46.jpg"/> and as we knew not where to go, and
                  were convinced besides that the boat could not survive the surfs, we all said we
                  would remain on the dry part of the vessel, and trust to God till daylight
                  appeared, when we should know better what to do.</p>
               <p>I then advised to get the boat prepared against morning, and some of us began to
                  set about it; but others abandoned all care of the ship and themselves, and fell
                  to drinking. Our boat had a piece out of her bottom near two feet long, and we had
                  no materials to mend her; however, necessity being the mother of invention, I took
                  some pump leather and nailed it to the broken part, and plastered it over with
                  tallow-grease. And, thus prepared, with the utmost anxiety of mind we watched for
                  day-light, and thought every minute an hour till it appeared. <pb n="47" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p47.jpg"/> At last it saluted our longing eyes,
                  and kind Providence accompanied its approach with what was no small comfort to us;
                  for the dreadful swells began to subside; and the next thing that we discovered to
                  raise our drooping spirits, was a small key or desolate island, about five or six
                  miles off; but a barrier soon presented itself; for there was not water enough for
                  our boat to go over the reefs, and this threw us again into a sad consternation;
                  but there was no alternative, we were therefore obliged to put but few in the boat
                  at once; and, what was still worse, all of us were frequently under the necessity
                  of getting out to drag and lift it over the reefs. This cost us much labour and
                  fatigue; and, what was yet more distressing, we could not avoid having our legs
                  cut and torn very much with the rocks. There were only four people <pb n="48" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p48.jpg"/> that would work with me at the oars;
                  and they consisted of three black men and a Dutch creole sailor; and, though we
                  went with the boat five times that day, we had no others to assist us. But, had we
                  not worked in this manner, I really believe the people could not have been saved;
                  for not one of the white men did any thing to preserve their lives; indeed they
                  soon got so drunk that they were not able, but lay about the deck like swine, so
                  that we were at last obliged to lift them into the boat, and carry them on shore
                  by force. This want of assistance made our labour intolerably severe; insomuch,
                  that, by going on shore so often that day, the skin was partly stript off my
                  hands.</p>
               <p>However, we continued all the day to toil and strain our exertions, till we had
                  brought all on board safe to the <pb n="49" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p49.jpg"/> shore, so that out of thirty-two people we lost not one.</p>
               <p>My dream now returned upon my mind with all its force; it was fulfilled in every
                  part; for our danger was the same I had dreamt of; and I could not help looking on
                  myself as the principal instrument in effecting our deliverance: for, owing to
                  some of our people getting drunk, the rest of us were obliged to double our
                  exertions; and it was fortunate we did, for in a very little time longer the patch
                  of leather on the boat would have been worn out, and she would have been no longer
                  fit for service. Situated as we were, who could think that men should be so
                  careless of the danger they were in? for, if the wind had but raised the swell as
                  it was when the vessel struck, we must have bid a final farewel to all hopes of
                  deliverance; and though, I warned the people <pb n="50" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p50.jpg"/> who were drinking, and entreated them
                  to embrace the moment of deliverance, nevertheless they persisted, as if not
                  possessed of the least spark of reason. I could not help thinking, that, if any of
                  these people had been lost, God would charge me with their lives, which, perhaps,
                  was one cause of my labouring so hard for their preservation, and indeed every one
                  of them afterwards seemed so sensible of the service I had rendered them, that
                  while we were on the key I was a kind of chieftian amongst them. I brought some
                  limes, oranges, and lemons a shore; and, finding it to be a good soil where we
                  were, I planted several of them as a token to any one that might be cast away
                  hereafter. This key, as we afterwards found, was one of the Bahama islands, which
                  consist of a cluster of large islands, with <pb n="51" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p51.jpg"/> smaller ones or keys, as they are
                  called, interspersed among them. It was about a mile in circumference, with a
                  white sandy beach running in a regular order along it. On that part of it where we
                  first attempted to land there stood some very large birds, called flamingoes:
                  these, from the reflection of the sun, appeared to us at a little distance as
                  large as men; and, when they walked backwards and forwards, we could not conceive
                  what they were: our captain swore they were cannibals. This created a great panic
                  among us; and we held a consultation how to act. The captain wanted to go to a key
                  that was within sight, but a great way off; but I was against it, as in so doing
                  we should not be able to save all the people; 
                    'And therefore,' said I, 'let us go
                     on shore here, and perhaps these cannibals may take to the water.'
                  <pb n="52" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p52.jpg"/> Accordingly we steered toward
                  them; and when we approached them, to our very great joy and no less wonder, they
                  walked off one after the other very deliberately; and at last they took flight and
                  relieved us entirely from our fears. About the key there were turtles and several
                  sorts of fish in such abundance that we caught them without bait, which was a
                  great relief to us after the salt provisions on board. There was also a large rock
                  on the beach, about ten feet high, which was in the form of a punch-bowl at the
                  top; this we could not help thinking Providence had ordained to supply us with
                  rain-water; and it was something singular that, if we did not take the water when
                  it rained, in some little time after it would turn as salt as sea-water.</p>
               <p>Our first care, after refreshment, was to make ourselves tents to lodge in <pb n="53" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p53.jpg"/> which we did as well as we
                  could with some sails we had brought from the ship. We then began to think how we
                  might get from this place, which was quite uninhabited; and we determined to
                  repair our boat, which was very much shattered, and to put to sea in quest of a
                  ship or some inhabited island. It took us up however eleven days before we could
                  get the boat ready for sea in the manner we wanted it, with a sail and other
                  necessaries. When we had got all things prepared, the captain wanted me to stay on
                  shore while he went to sea in quest of a vessel to take all the people off the
                  key; but this I refused; and the captain and myself, with five more, set off in
                  the boat towards New Providence. We had no more than two musket load of gun-powder
                  with us if any thing should happen; and our stock of provisions <pb n="54" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p54.jpg"/> consisted of three gallons of rum,
                  four of water, some salt beef, some biscuit; and in this manner we proceeded to
                  sea.</p>
               <p>On the second day of our voyage, we came to an island called Abbico, the largest
                  of the Bahama islands. We were much in want of water; for by this time our water
                  was expended, and we were exceedingly fatigued in pulling two days in the heat of
                  the sun; and it being late in the evening, we hauled the boat ashore to try for
                  water and remain during the night: when we came ashore we searched for water, but
                  could find none. When it was dark, we made a fire around us for fear of the wild
                  beasts, as the place was an entire thick wood, and we took it by turns to watch.
                  In this situation we found very little rest, and waited with impatience for the
                  morning. As <pb n="55" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p55.jpg"/> soon as the light
                  appeared we set off again with our boat, in hopes of finding assistance during the
                  day. We were now much dejected and weakened by pulling the boat; for our sail was
                  of no use, and we were almost famished for want of fresh water to drink. We had
                  nothing left to eat but salt beef, and that we could not use without water. In
                  this situation we toiled all day in sight of the island, which was very long; in
                  the evening, seeing no relief, we made shore again, and fastened our boat. We then
                  went to look for fresh water, being quite faint for the want of it; and we dug and
                  searched about for some all the remainder of the even ing, but could not find one
                  drop, so that our dejection at this period became excessive, and our terror so
                  great, that we expected nothing but death to deliver us. We could not touch our
                     <pb n="56" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p56.jpg"/> beef, which was salt as
                  brine, without fresh water; and we were in the greatest terror from the
                  apprehension of wild beasts. When unwelcome night came we acted as on the night
                  before; and the next morning we set off again from the island in hopes of seeing
                  some vessel. In this manner we toiled as well as we were able till four o'clock,
                  during which we passed several keys, but could not meet with a ship; and, still
                  famishing with thirst, went ashore on one of those keys again in hopes of finding
                  some water. Here we found some leaves with a few drops of water in them, which we
                  lapped with much eagerness; we then dug in several places, but without success. As
                  we were digging holes in search of water there came forth some very thick and
                  black stuff; but none of us could touch it, except the poor Dutch Creole, <pb n="57" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p57.jpg"/> who drank above a quart of it
                  as eagerly as if had been wine. We tried to catch fish, but could not; and we now
                  began to repine at our fate, and abandon ourselves to despair; when, in the midst
                  of our murmuring, the captain all at once cried out. 'A sail! a sail! a sail!' This gladdening
                  sound was like a reprieve to a convict, and we all instantly turned to look at it;
                  but in a little time some of us began to be afraid it was not a sail. However, at
                  a venture, we embarked and steered after it; and, in half an hour to our
                  unspeakable joy, we plainly saw that it was a vessel. At this our drooping spirits
                  revived, and we made towards her with all the speed imaginable. When we came near
                  to her, we found she was a little sloop about the size of a Gravesend hoy, and
                  quite full or people; a circumstance which <pb n="58" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p58.jpg"/> we could not make out the meaning of.
                  Our captain, who was a Welchman, swore that they were pirates, and would kill us.
                  I said, be that as it might, we must board her if we were to die by it; and, if
                  they should not receive us kindly, we must oppose them as well as we could; for
                  there was no alternative between their pe rishing and ours. This counsel was
                  immediately taken; and I really believe that the captain, myself, and the
                  Dutchman, would then have faced twenty men. We had two cutlasses and a musquet,
                  that I brought in the boat; and in this situation, we rowed alongside, and
                  immediately boarded her. I believe there were about forty hands on board; but how
                  great was our surprise, as soon as we got on board, to find that the major part of
                     <pb n="59" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p59.jpg"/> them were in the same
                  predicament as ourselves.</p>
               <p>They belonged to a whaling schooner that was wrecked two days before us about nine
                  miles to the north of our vessel. When she was wrecked some of them had taken to
                  their boats and had left some of their people and property on a key, in the same
                  manner as we had done; and were going, like us, to New Providence in quest of a
                  ship, when they met with this little sloop, called a wrecker; their employment in
                  those seas being to look after wrecks. They were then going to take the remainder
                  of the people be longing to the schooner; for which the wrecker was to have all
                  things belonging to the vessel, and likewise their people's help to get what they
                  could out of her, and were then to carry the crew to New Providence.</p>
               <p>
                  <pb n="60" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p60.jpg"/> We told the people of the
                  wrecker the condition of our vessel, and we made the same agreement with them as
                  the schooner's people; and, on their complying, we begged of them to go to our key
                  directly, because our people were in want of water. They agreed, therefore, to go
                  along with us first; and in two days we arrived at the key, to the inexpressible
                  joy of the people that we had left behind, as they had been reduced to great
                  extremities for want of water in our absence. Luckily for us, the wrecker had now
                  more people on board than she could carry or victual for any moderate length of
                  time; they therefore hired the schooner's people to work on the wreck, and we left
                  them our boat, and embarked for New Providence.</p>
               <p>Nothing could have been more fortunate than our meeting with this <pb n="61" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p61.jpg"/> wrecker, for New Providence was at
                  such a distance that we never could have reached it in our boat. The island of
                  Abbico was much longer than we expected; and it was not till after sailing for
                  three or four days that we got safe to the farther end of it, towards New
                  Providence. When we arrived there we watered, and got a good many lobsters and
                  other shellfish; which proved a great relief to us, as our provisions and water
                  were almost exhausted. We then proceeded on our voyage; but the day after we left
                  the Island, late in the evening, and whilst we were yet amongst the Bahama keys,
                  we were overtaken by a violent gale of wind, so that we were obliged to cut away
                  the mast. The vessel was very near foundering; for she parted from her anchors,
                  and struck several times on the <pb n="62" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p62.jpg"/> shoals. Here we expected every minute that she would have gone to pieces, and
                  each moment to be our last; so much so, that my old captain and sickly useless
                  mate, and several others, fainted; and death stared us in the face on every side.
                  All the swearers on board now began to call on the God of Heaven to assist them:
                  and, sure enough, beyond our comprehension he did assist us, and in a miraculous
                  manner delivered us! In the very height of our extremity the wind lulled for a few
                  minutes; and, although the swell was high beyond expression, two men, who were
                  expert swimmers, attempted to go to the buoy of the anchor, which we still saw on
                  the water, at some distance, in a little punt that belonged to the wrecker, which
                  was not large enough to carry more than two. She failed at different times in
                  their <pb n="63" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p63.jpg"/> endeavours to get into
                  her alongside of our vessel; and they saw nothing but death before them, as well
                  as we; but they said they might as well die that way as any other. A coil of very
                  small rope, with a little buoy, was put in along with them; and, at last, with
                  great hazard, they got the punt clear from the vessel; and these two intrepid
                  water heroes paddled away for life towards the buoy of the anchor. Our eyes were
                  fixed on them all the time, expecting every minute to be their last: and the
                  prayers of all those that remained in their senses were offered up to God, on
                  their behalf, for a speedy deliverance, and for our own, which depended on them;
                  and he heard and answered us! These two men at last reached the buoy; and, having
                  fastened the punt to it, they tied one end of their rope to the small buoy <pb n="64" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p64.jpg"/> that they had in the punt, and
                  sent it adrift towards the vessel. We on board observing this threw out boat-hooks
                  and leads fastened to lines, in order to catch the buoy: at last we caught it, and
                  fastened a hawser to the end of the small rope; we then gave them a sign to pull,
                  and they pulled the hawser to them, and fastened it to the buoy: which being done
                  we hauled for our lives; and, through the mercy of God, we got again from the
                  shoals into deep water, and the punt got safe to the vessel. It is impossible for
                  any to conceive our heart-felt joy at this second deliverance from ruin, but those
                  who have suffered the same hardships. Those whose strength and senses were gone,
                  came to themselves, and were now as elated as they were before depressed. Two days
                  after this the wind ceased, and the water became smooth. The punt <pb n="65" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p65.jpg"/> then went on shore, and we cut down
                  some trees; and having found our mast and mended it we brought it on board, and
                  fixed it up. As soon as we had done this we got up the anchor, and away we went
                  once more for New Providence, which in three days more we reached safe, after
                  having been above three weeks in a situation in which we did not expect to escape
                  with life. The inhabitants here were very kind to us; and, when they learned our
                  situation, shewed us a great deal of hospitality and friendship. soon after this
                  every one of my old fellow-sufferers that were free parted from us, and shaped
                  their course where their inclination led them. One merchant, who had a large
                  sloop, seeing our condition, and knowing we wanted to go to Georgia, told four of
                  us that his vessel was going there; and, if we <pb n="66" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p66.jpg"/> would work on board and load her, he
                  would give us our passage free. As we could not get any wages whatever, and sound
                  it very hard to get off the place, we were obliged to consent to his proposal; and
                  we went on board and helped to load the sloop, though we had only our victuals
                  allowed us. When she was entirely loaded, he told us she was going to Jamaica
                  first, where we must go if we went in her. This, however, I refused; but my
                  fellow-sufferers not having any money to help themselves with, necessity obliged
                  them to accept of the offer, and to steer that course, though they did not like
                  it.</p>
               <p>We stayed in New Providence about seventeen or eighteen days; during which time I
                  met with many friends, who gave me encouragement to stay there with them, but I
                  declined it; <pb n="67" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p67.jpg"/> though, had not
                  my heart been fixed on England, I should have stayed, as I liked the place
                  extremely, and there were some free black people here who were very happy, and we
                  passed our time pleasantly together, with the melodious sound of the catguts,
                  under the lime and lemon trees. At length Captain Phillips hired a sloop to carry
                  him and some of the slaves that he could not sell to Georgia; and I agreed to go
                  with him in this vessel, meaning now to take my farewel of that place. When the
                  vessel was ready we all embarked; and I took my leave of New Providence, not
                  without regret. We sailed about four o'clock the morning with a fair wind, for
                  Georgia; and about eleven o'clock the same morning, a sudden and short gale sprung
                  up and blew away most of our fails; and, as we were still among the keys, in <pb n="68" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p68.jpg"/> a very few minutes it dashed
                  the sloop against the rocks. Luckily for us the water was deep; and the sea was
                  not so angry, but that, after having for some time laboured hard, and being many
                  in number, we were saved, through God's mercy: and, by using our greatest
                  exertions, we got the vessel off. The next day we returned to Providence, where we
                  soon got her again refitted. some of the people swore that we had spells set upon
                  us by somebody in Montserrat; and others that we had witches and wizzards amongst
                  the poor helpless slaves; and that we never should arrive safe at Georgia. But
                  these things did not deter me; I said, 'Let us
                     again face the winds and seas, and swear not, but trust to God, and he will
                     deliver us.'  We therefore once more set sail; and, <pb n="69" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p69.jpg"/> with hard labour in seven days time
                  arrived safe at Georgia.</p>
               <p>After our arrival we went up to the town of Savannah; and the same evening I went
                  to a friend's house to lodge, whose name was Mosa, a black man. We were very happy
                  at meeting each other; and after supper we had a light till it was between nine
                  and ten o'clock at night. About that time the watch or patrol came by; and,
                  discerning a light in the house, they knocked at the door: we opened it; and they
                  came in and sat down and drank some punch with us: they also begged some limes of
                  me, as they understood I had some, which I readily gave them. A little after this
                  they told me I must go to the watch-house with them: this surprised me a good
                  deal, after our kindness to them; and I asked them, Why so? They said that all
                  negroes who had a <pb n="70" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p70.jpg"/> light in
                  their houses after nine o'clock were to be taken into custody, and either pay some
                  dollars or be flogged. some of those people knew that I was a free man; but, as
                  the man of the house was not free, and had his master to protect him, they did not
                  take the same liberty with him they did with me. I told them that I was a free
                  man, and just arrived from Providence; that we were not making any noise, and that
                  I was not a stranger in that place, but was very well known there: 'Besides,' said I, 'what will you do with me?'—'That
                     you shall see, 'replied they, 'but
                     you must go to the watch-house with us.' Now whether they meant to get
                  money from me or not I was at a loss to know; but I thought immediately of the
                  oranges and limes at santa Cruz: and seeing that nothing would pacify them I went
                     <pb n="71" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p71.jpg"/> with them to the
                  watch-house, where I remained during the night. Early the next morning these
                  imposing ruffians flogged a negro-man and woman that they had in the watch-house,
                  and then they told me that I must be flogged too. I asked why? and if there was no
                  law for free men? and told them if there was I would have it put in force against
                  them. But this only exasperated them the more, and instantly swore they would
                  serve me as Doctor Perkins had done; and were going to lay violent hands on me;
                  when one of them, more humane than the rest, said that as I was a free man they
                  could not justify stripping me by law. I then immediately sent for Doctor Brady,
                  who was known to be an honest and worthy man; and on his coming to my assistance
                  they let me go.</p>
               <p>
                  <pb n="72" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p72.jpg"/> This was not the only
                  disagreeable incident I met with while I was in this place; for, one day, while I
                  was a little way out of the town of Savannah, I was beset by two white men, who
                  meant to play their usual tricks with me in the way of kidnapping. As soon as
                  these men accosted me, one of them said to the other, 'This is the very fellow we are looking for, that
                     you lost:' and the other swore immediately that I was the identical
                  person. On this they made up to me, and were about to handle me; but I told them
                  to be still and keep off; for I had seen those kind of tricks played upon other
                  free blacks, and they must not think to serve me so. At this they paused a little,
                  and one said to the other—it will not do; and the other answered that I talked two
                  good English. I replied, I believed I did; and I had also with me a <pb n="73" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p73.jpg"/> revengeful stick equal to the
                  occasion; and my mind was likewise good. Happily however it was not used; and,
                  after we had talked together a little in this manner, the rogues left me.</p>
               <p>I stayed in savannah some time, anxiously trying to get to Montserrat once more to
                  see Mr. King, my old master, and then to take a final farewel of the American
                  quarter of the globe. At last I met with a sloop called the speedwell, Captain
                  John Bunton, which be longed to Grenada, and was bound to Martinico, a French
                  island, with a cargo of rice, and I shipped myself on board of her.</p>
               <p>Before I left Georgia, a black woman who had a child lying dead, being very
                  tenacious of the church burial service, and not able to get any white person to
                  perform it, applied to me for that purpose. I told her I was no parson; <pb n="74" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p74.jpg"/> and besides, that the service over the
                  dead did not affect the soul. This however did not satisfy her; she still urged me
                  very hard: I therefore complied with her earnest entreaties, and at last consented
                  to act the parson for the sirst time in my life. As she was much respected, there
                  was a great company both of white and black people at the grave. I then
                  accordingly as sumed my new vocation, and performed the funeral ceremony to the
                  satisfaction of all present; after which I bade adieu to Georgia, and sailed for
                  Martinico.</p>
            </div>
            <div n="9" type="chapter">
               <pb n="75" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p75.jpg"/>
               <head>CHAP. IX.</head>
               
                  <p>
                     <hi rend="italic">The author arrives at Martinico—Meets with new
                        difficulties—Gets to Montserrat, where he takes leave of his old master, and
                        sails for England—Meets Capt. Pascal—Learns the French horn—Hires himself
                        with Doctor Irving, where be learns to freshen sea water—Leaves the doctor,
                        and goes a voyage to Turkey and Portugal; and afterwards goes a voyage to
                        Grenada, and another to Jamaica—Returns to the Doctor, and they embark
                        together on a voyage to the North Pole, with the Hon. Capt. Phipps—some
                        account of that voyage, and the dangers the author was in—He returns to
                        England.</hi>
                  </p>
               
               <p>I THUS took a final leave of Georgia; for the treatment I had received in it <pb n="76" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p76.jpg"/> disgusted me very much against
                  the place; and when I left it and sailed for Martinico I determined never more to
                  revisit it. My new captain conducted his vessel safer than my former one; and,
                  after an agreeable voyage, we got safe to our intended port. While I was on this
                  island I went about a good deal, and found it very pleasant: in particular I
                  admired the town of St. Pierre, which is the principal one in the island, and
                  built more like an European town than any I had seen in the West Indies. In
                  general also, slaves were better treated, had more holidays, and looked better
                  than those in the English islands. After we had done our business here, I wanted
                  my discharge, which was necessary; for it was then the month of May, and I wished
                  much to be at Montserrat to bid farewel to Mr. King, and all my <pb n="77" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p77.jpg"/> other friends there, in time to sail
                  for Old England in the July fleet. But, alas! I had put a great stumbling block in
                  my own way, by which I was near losing my passage that season to England. I had
                  lent my captain some money, which I now wanted to enable me to prosecute my
                  intentions. This I told him; but when I applied for it, though I urged the
                  necessity of my occasion, I met with so much shuffling from him, that I began at
                  last to be afraid of losing my money, as I could not recover it by law; for I have
                  already mentioned, that throughout the West Indies no black man's testimony is
                  admitted, on any occasion, against any white person whatever, and therefore my own
                  oath would have been of no use. I was obliged, therefore, to remain with him till
                  he might be disposed to return it to me. Thus we <pb n="78" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p78.jpg"/> sailed from Martinico for the
                  Grenades. I frequently pressing the captain for my money to no purpose; and, to
                  render my condition worse, when we got there, the captain and his owners quarrelled; so that my situation became daily more irksome: for besides that we on
                  board had little or no victuals allowed us, and I could not get my money nor
                  wages, as I could then have gotten my passage free to Montserrat had I been able
                  to accept it. The worst of all was, that it was growing late in July, and the
                  ships in the islands must sail by the 26th of that month. At last, however, with a
                  great many entreaties, I got my money from the captain, and took the first vessel
                  I could meet with for St Eustatia. From thence I went in another to Basseterre in
                  St. Kitts, where I arrived on the 19th of July. On the 22d, having met with a <pb n="79" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p79.jpg"/> vessel bound to Montserrat, I
                  wanted to go in her; but the captain and others would not take me on board until I
                  should advertise myself, and give notice of my going off the island. I told them
                  of my haste to be in Montserrat, and that the time then would not admit of
                  advertising, it being late in the evening, and the vessel about to sail; but he
                  insisted it was necessary, and otherwise he said he would not take me. This
                  reduced me to great perplexity; for if I should be compelled to submit to this
                  degrading necessity, which every black freeman is under, of advertising himself
                  like a slave, when he leaves an island, and which I thought a gross imposition
                  upon any freeman, I feared I should miss that opportunity of going to Montserrat,
                  and then I could not get to England that year. The vessel was just going off, and
                  no time could be lost; <pb n="80" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p80.jpg"/> I
                  immediately therefore set about, with a heavy heart, to try who I could get to
                  befriend me in complying with the demands of the captain. Luckily I found, in a
                  few minutes, some gentlemen of Montserrat whom I knew; and, having told them my
                  situation, I requested their friendly assistance in helping me off the island.
                  some of them, on this, went with me to the captain, and satisfied him of my
                  freedom; and, to my very great joy, he desired me to go on board. We then set
                  sail, and the next day, 23d, I arrived at the wished-for place, after an absence
                  of six months, in which I had more than once experienced the delivering hand of
                  Providence, when all human means of escaping destruction seemed hopeless. I saw
                  my friends with a gladness of heart which was increased by my absence and the
                  dangers I had escaped, and I was received with great friendship by <pb n="81" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p81.jpg"/> them all, but particularly by Mr.
                  King, to whom I related the fate of his sloop, the Nancy, and the causes of her
                  being wrecked. I now learned with extreme sorrow, that his house was washed away
                  during my absence, by the bursting of a pond at the top of a mountain that was
                  opposite the town of Plymouth. It swept great part of the town away, and Mr. King
                  lost a great deal of property from the inundation, and nearly his life. When I
                  told him I intended to go to London that season, and that I had come to visit him
                  before my departure, the good man expressed a great deal of affection for me, and
                  sorrow that I should leave him, and warmly advised me to stay there; insisting, as
                  I was much respected by all the gentlemen in the place, that I might do very well,
                  and in a short time have land and slaves of my own. I thanked him for this <pb n="82" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p82.jpg"/> instance of his friendship;
                  but, as I wished very much to be in London, I declined remaining any longer there,
                  and begged he would excuse me. I then requested he would be kind enough to give me
                  a certificate of my behaviour while in his service, which he very readily comp ied
                  with, and gave me the following:</p>
               <floatingText>
                  <body>
                     <opener>
                        <dateline>
                           Montserrat, 
                          January 26, 1767.
                        </dateline>
                     </opener>
                     <p>The bearer hereof, Gustavus Vasa, was my slave for upwards of three years,
                        during which he has always behaved himself well, and discharged his duty
                        with honesty and assiduity.</p>
                     <closer>
                        <signed>ROBERT KING.</signed>
                        <lb/>
                        <salute>To all to whom this may concern.</salute>
                     </closer>
                  </body>
               </floatingText>
               <p>Having obtained this, I parted from my kind master, after many sincere professions
                  of gratitude and regard, <pb n="83" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p83.jpg"/> and
                  prepared for my departure for London. I immediately agreed to go with one Capt.
                  John Hamer, for seven guineas (the passage to London) on board a ship called, the
                  Andromache; and on the 24th and 25th, I had free dances, as they are called, with
                  some of my countrymen, previous to my setting off; after which I took leave of all
                  my friends, and on the 26th I embarked for London, exceedingly glad to see myself
                  once more on board of a ship; and still more so, in steering the course I had long
                  wished for. With a light heart I bade Montserrat farewell, and never had my feet
                  on it since; and with it I bade adieu to the sound of the cruel whip, and all
                  other dreadful instruments of torture; adieu to the offensive sight of the
                  violated chastity of the sable females, which has too often accosted my eyes;
                  adieu to oppressions (although <pb n="84" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p84.jpg"/>
                  to me less severe than most of my countrymen); and adieu to the angry howling,
                  dashing surfs. I wished for a grateful and thankful heart to praise the Lord God
                  on high for all his mercies! in this extasy I steered the ship all night.</p>
               <p>We had a most prosperous voyage, and, at the end of seven weeks, arrived at
                  Cherry-Garden stairs. Thus were my longing eyes once more gratified with a sight
                  of London, after having been absent from it above four years. I immediately
                  received my wages, and I never had earned seven guineas so quick in my life
                  before; I had thirty-seven guineas in all, when I got cleared of the ship. I now
                  entered upon a scene quite new to me, but full of hope. In this situation my first
                  thoughts were to look out for some of my former friends, and amongst the first of
                  those were the Miss Guerins. As soon, therefore, as I had regaled myself I went in
                     <pb n="85" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p85.jpg"/> quest of those kind ladies,
                  whom I was very impatient to see; and with some difficulty and perseverance, I
                  found them at May's-hill, Greenwich. They were most agreeably surprised to see me,
                  and I quite overjoyed at meeting with them. I told them my history, at which they
                  expressed great wonder, and freely acknowledged it did their cousin, Capt. Pascal,
                  no honour. He then visited there frequently; and I met him four or five days after
                  in Greenwich park. When he saw me he appeared a good deal surprised, and asked me
                  how I came back? I answered, 'In a
                     ship.' To which he replied dryly, 'I
                     suppose you did not walk back to London on the water. 'As I saw, by his
                  manner, that he did not seem to be sorry for his behaviour to me, and that I had
                  not much reason to expect any favour from him, I told him that he <pb n="86" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p86.jpg"/> had used me very ill, after I had been
                  such a faithful servant to him for so many years; on which, without saying any
                  more, he turned about and went away. A few days after this I met Capt. Pascal at
                  Miss Guerin's house, and asked him for my prize-money. He said there was none due
                  to me; for, if my prize-money had been 10,000l. he had a right to it all. I told
                  him I was informed otherwise: on which he bade me defiance; and in a bantering
                  tone, desired me to commence a law suit against him for it: 'There are lawyers enough,' said he, 'that will take the cause in hand, and you had
                     better try it.' I told him then that I would try it, which enraged him
                  very much; however, out of regard to the ladies, I remained still, and never made
                  any farther demand of my right. Some time afterwards these friendly ladies asked
                     <pb n="87" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p87.jpg"/> me what I meant to do with
                  myself, and now they could assist me. I thanked them, and said, if they pleased, I
                  would be their servant; but if not, I had thirty-seven guineas, which would support me for some time, I would be much obliged to them to recommend me to some
                  person who would teach me a business whereby I might earn my living. They answered
                  me very politely, that they were sorry it did not suit them to take me as their
                  servant, and asked me what business I should like to learn? I said, hair-dressing.
                  They then promised to assist me in this; and soon after they recommended me to a
                  gentleman whom I had known before, one Capt. O'Hara, who treated me with much
                  kindness, and procured me a master, a hair-dresser, in Coventry-court, Haymarket,
                  with whom he placed me. I was with this man from September <pb n="88" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p88.jpg"/> till the February following. In that
                  time we had a neighbour in the same court who taught the French-horn. He used to
                  blow it so well that I was charmed with it, and agreed with him to teach me to
                  blow it. Accordingly he took me in hand, and began to instruct me, and I soon
                  learned all the three parts. I took great delight in blowing on this instrument,
                  the evenings being long; and besides that I was fond of it, I did not like to be
                  idle, and it filled up my vacant hours innocently. At this time also I agreed with
                  the Rev. Mr. Gregory, who lived in the same court, where he kept an academy and an
                  evening-school, to improve me in arithmetic. This he did as far as barter and
                  alligation; so that all the time I was there I was entirely employed. In February
                  1768, I hired myself to Dr. Charles Irving, in Pallmall, <pb n="89" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p89.jpg"/> so celebrated for his successful
                  experiments in making seawater fresh; and here I had plenty of hair dressing to
                  improve my hand. This gentleman was an excellent master; he was exceedingly kind
                  and good tempered; and allowed me in the evenings to attend my schools, which I
                  esteemed a great blessing; therefore I thanked God and him for it, and used all my
                  diligence to improve the opportunity. This diligence and attention recommended me
                  to the notice and care of my three preceptors, who on their parts bestowed a great
                  deal of pains in my instruction, and besides were all very kind to me. My wages,
                  however, which were by two thirds less than ever I had in my life (for I had only
                  12l. per annum) I soon found would not be sufficient to defray this extraordinary
                  expence of masters, and my own necessary expences; <pb n="90" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p90.jpg"/> my old thirty-seven guineas had by
                  this time worn all away to one. I thought it best, therefore, to try the sea again
                  in quest of more money, as I had been bred to it, and had hitherto found the
                  profession of it successful. I had also a very great desire to see Turkey, and I
                  now determined to gratify it. Accordingly, in the month of May, 1768, I told the
                  doctor my wish to go to sea again, to which he made no opposition; and we parted
                  on friendly terms. The same day I went into the city in quest of a master. I was
                  extremely fortunate in my inquiry; for I soon heard of a gentleman who had a ship
                  going to Italy and Turkey, and he wanted a man who could dress hair well. I was
                  overjoyed at this, and went immediately on board of his ship, as I had been
                  directed, which I found to be fitted up with great taste, and I already <pb n="91" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p91.jpg"/> foreboded no small pleasure in sailing
                  in her. Not finding the gentleman on board, I was directed to his lodgings, where
                  I met with him the next day, and gave him a specimen of my dressing. He liked it
                  so well that he hired me immediately, so that I was perfectly happy; for the ship,
                  master, and voyage, were intirely to my mind. The ship was called the Delawar, and
                  my master's name was John Jolly, a neat smart good humoured man, just such an one
                  as I wished to serve. We sailed from England in July following, and our voyage was
                  extremely pleasant. We went to Villa Franca, Nice, and Leghorn; and in all these
                  places I was charmed with the richness and beauty of the countries, and struck
                  with the elegant buildings with which they abound. We had always in them plenty of
                  extraordinary good wines and <pb n="92" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p92.jpg"/>
                  rich fruits, which I was very fond of; and I had frequent occasions of gratify ing
                  both my taste and curiosity; for my captain always lodged on shore in those
                  places, which afforded me opportunities to see the country around. I also learned
                  navigation of the mate, which I was very sond of. When we left Italy we had
                  delightful sailing among the Archipelago islands, and from thence to smyrna in
                  Turkey. This is a very ancient city; the houses are built of stone, and most of
                  them have graves adjoining to them; so that they sometimes present the appearence
                  of church-yards. Provisions are very plentiful in this city, and good wine less
                  than a penny a pint. The grapes, pomegranates, and many other fruits, were also
                  the richest and largest I ever tasted. The natives are well looking and strong
                  made, and treated me al ways <pb n="93" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p93.jpg"/>
                  with great civility. In general I believe they are fond of black people; and
                  several of them gave me pressing invitations to stay amongst them, although they
                  keep the franks, or Christians, separate, and do not suffer them to dwell
                  immediately amongst them. I was astonished in not seeing women in any of their
                  shops, and very rarely any in the streets; and when ever I did they were covered
                  with a veil from head to foot, so that I could not see their faces, except when
                  any of them out of curiosity uncovered them to look at me, which they sometimes
                  did. I was surprised to see how the Greeks are, in some measure, kept under by the
                  Turks, as the negroes are in the West Indies by the white people. The less refined
                  Greeks, as I have already hinted, dance here in the same manner as we do in our
                  nation.</p>
               <p>
                  <pb n="94" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p94.jpg"/> On the whole, during our stay
                  here, which was about five months, I liked the place and the Turks extremely well.
                  I could not help observing one very remarkable circumstance there: the tails of
                  the sheep are flat, and so very large, that I have known the tail even of a lamb
                  to weigh from eleven to thirteen pounds. The fat of them is very white and rich,
                  and is excellent in puddings, for which it is much used. Our ship being at length
                  richly loaded with silk, and other articles, we sailed for England.</p>
               <p>In May 1769, soon after our return from Turkey, our ship made a delightful voyage
                  to Oporto in Portugal, where we arrived at the time of the carnival. On our
                  arrival, there were sent on board of us thirty-six articles to observe with very
                  heavy penalties if we should break any of them; and none of us even dared to go on
                  board any other <pb n="95" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p95.jpg"/> vessel or on
                  shore, till the Inquisition had sent on board and searched for every thing
                  illegal, especially Bibles. Such as were produced, and certain other things were
                  sent on shore till the ships were going away; and any person in whose custody a
                  bible was found concealed, was to be imprisoned and flogged, and sent into slavery
                  for ten years. I saw here many very magnificent sights, particularly the garden of
                  Eden, where many of the clergy and laity went in procession in their several
                  orders with the host, and sung Te Deum. I had a great curiosity to go into some
                  of their churches, but could not gain admittance without using the necessary
                  sprinkling of holy water at my entrance. From curiosity, and a wish to be holy, I
                  therefore complied with this ceremony, but its virtues were lost upon me, for I
                  found myself nothing <pb n="96" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p96.jpg"/> the
                  better for it. This place abounds with plenty of all kinds of provisions. The town
                  is well built and pretty, and commands a fine prospect. Our ship having taken in a
                  load of wine, and other commodities, we sailed for London, and arrived in July
                  following.</p>
               <p>Our next voyage was to the Mediterranean. The ship was again got ready, and we
                  sailed in september for Genoa. This is one of the finest cities I ever saw; some
                  of the edifices were of beautiful marble, and made a most noble appearance; and
                  many had very curious fountains before them. The churches were rich and
                  magnificent, and curiously adorned both in the inside and out. But all this
                  grandeur was in my eyes disgraced by the galley slaves, whose condition both there
                  and in other parts of Italy is truly piteous and wretch ed. After we had stayed
                  there some <pb n="97" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p97.jpg"/> weeks, during which
                  we bought many different things we wanted, and got them very cheap, we sailed to
                  Naples, a charming city, and remarkably clean. The bay is the most beautiful I
                  ever saw; the moles for shipping are excellent. I thought it extraordinary to see
                  grand operas acted here on Sunday nights, and even attended by their majesties. I
                  too, like these great ones, went to those sights, and vainly served God in the day
                  while I thus served mammon effectually at night. While we remained here, there
                  happened an eruption of mount Vesuvius, of which I had a perfect view. It was
                  extremely awful; and we were so near that the ashes from it used to be thick on
                  our deck. After we had transacted our business at Naples, we sailed with a fair
                  wind once more for Smyrna, where we arrived in December. A seraskier <pb n="98" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p98.jpg"/> or officer, took a liking to me here,
                  and wanted me to stay, and offered me two wives; however I resused the temptation,
                  thinking one was as much as some could manage, and more than others would venture
                  on. The merchants here travel in caravans or large companies. I have seen many
                  caravans from India, with some hundreds of camels, laden with different goods.
                  The people of these caravans are quite brown. Among other articles, they brought
                  with them a great quantity of locusts, which are a kind of pulse, sweet and
                  pleasant to the palate, and in shape resembling French beans, but longer. Each
                  kind of goods is sold in a street by itself, and I always found the Turks very
                  honest in their dealings. They let no Christians into their mosques or churches,
                  for which I was very sorry; as I was always fond of going to see <pb n="99" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p99.jpg"/> the different modes of worship of the
                  people wherever I went. The plague broke out while we were in smyrna, and we
                  stopped taking goods into the ship till it was over. she was then richly laden,
                  and we sailed in about March 1770, for England. One day in our passage we met with
                  an accident which was near burning the ship. A black cook, in melting some fat,
                  overset the pan into the fire under the deck, which immediately began to blaze,
                  and the flame went up very high under the foretop. With the fright, the poor cook
                  became almost white, and altogether speechless. Happily however we got the fire
                  out without doing much mischief. After various delays in this passage, which was
                  tedious, we arrived in standgate creek in July; and, at the latter end of the
                  year, some new event <pb n="100" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p100.jpg"/>
                  occurred, so that my noble captain, the ship, and I all separated.</p>
               <p>In April 1771, I shipped myself as a steward with Capt. Wm. Robertson of the ship
                  Grenada Planter, once more to try my fortune in the West Indies; and we sailed
                  from London for <ref target="madeira_" corresp="madeira">Madeira, Barbados, and
                     the Grenades</ref>.</p>
               <p>A white man, an islander, bought some goods of me to the amount of some pounds,
                  and made me many fair promises as usual, but without any intention of paying me.
                  He had likewise bought goods from some more of our people, whom he intended to
                  serve in the same manner; but he still amused us with promises. However, when our
                  ship was loaded, and near sailing, this honest buyer discovered no intention <pb n="101" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p101.jpg"/> or sign of paying for any
                  thing he had bought of us; but on the contrary, when I asked him for my money he
                  threatened me and another black man he had bought goods of, so that we found we
                  were like to get more blows than payment. On this we went to complain to one Mr.
                  M'Intosh, a justice of the peace; we told his worship of the man's villainous
                  tricks, and begged that he would be kind enough to see us redressed: but being
                  negroes, although free, we could not get any remedy; and our ship being then just
                  upon the point of sailing, we knew not how to help ourselves, though we thought it
                  hard to lose our property in this manner. Luckily for us however, this man was
                  also indebted to three white sailors, who could not get a farthing from him; they
                  therefore readily joined us, and we all went together in <pb n="102" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p102.jpg"/> search of him. When we found where he
                  was, I took him out of a house and threatened him with vengeance; on which,
                  finding he was likely to be handled roughly, the rogue offered each of us some
                  small allowance, but nothing near our demands. This exasperated us much more; and
                  some were for cutting his ears off; but he begged hard for mercy, which was at
                  last granted him, after we had entirely stripped him. We then let him go, for
                  which he thanked us, glad to get off so easily, and ran into the bushes, after
                  having wished us a good voyage. We then repaired on board, and shortly after set
                  sail for England. I cannot help remarking here a very narrow escape we had from
                  being blown up, owing to a piece of negligence of mine. Just as our ship was under
                  sail, I went down under the cabin to do some business, <pb n="103" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p103.jpg"/> and had a lighted candle in my hand,
                  which, in my hurry, without thinking, I held in a barrel of gunpowder. It remained
                  in the powder until it was near catching sire, when fortunately I observed it and
                  snatched it out in time, and providentially no harm happened; but I was so
                  overcome with terror that I immediately fainted at this deliverance.</p>
               <p>In twenty-eight days time we arrived in England, and I got clear of this ship.
                  But, being still of a roving disposition, and desirous of seeing as many different
                  parts of the world as I could, I shipped myself soon after, in the same year, as
                  steward on board of a fine large ship, called the Jamaica, Captain David Watt; and
                  we sailed from England in December 1771, for <ref target="nevis_" corresp="nevis">Nevis</ref> and Jamaica. I found Jamaica to be a very fine large island, well
                  peopled, and the most considerable <pb n="104" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p104.jpg"/> of the West India islands. There was
                  a vast number of negroes here, whom I found as usual exceedingly imposed upon by
                  the white people, and the slaves punished as in the other islands. There are
                  negroes whose business it is to flog slaves; they go about to different people for
                  employment, and the usual pay is from one to four bits. I saw many cruel
                  punishments inflicted on the slaves in the short time I stayed here. In particular
                  I was present when a poor fellow was tied up and kept hanging by the wrists at
                  some distance from the ground, and then some half hundred weights were fixed to
                  his ankles, in which posture he was flogged most unmercifully. There were also, as
                  I heard, two different masters noted for cruelty on the island, who had staked up
                  two negroes naked, and in two hours the vermin stung them <pb n="105" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p105.jpg"/> to death. I heard a gentleman, I well
                  knew, tell my captain that he passed sentence on a negro man to be burnt alive for
                  attempting to poison an overseer. I pass over numerous other instances, in order
                  to relieve the reader by a milder scene of roguery. Before I had been long on the
                  island, one Mr. Smith at Port Morant, bought goods of me to the amount of
                  twenty-five pounds sterling; but when I demanded payment from him, he was going
                  each time to beat me, and threatened that he would put me in goal. One time he
                  would say I was going to set his house on fire; at another, he would swear I was
                  going to run away with his slaves. I was astonished at this usage from a person
                  who was in the situation of a gentleman, but I had no alternative; and was
                  therefore obliged to submit. When I came to Kingston, I was surprised to <pb n="106" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p106.jpg"/> see the number of Africans
                  who were assembled together on Sundays; particularly at a large commodious place,
                  called spring Path. Here each different nation of Africa meet and dance after the
                  manner of their own country. They still retain most of their native customs: they
                  bury their dead, and put victuals, pipes and tobacco, and other things, in the
                  grave with the corpse, in the same manner as in Africa. Our ship having got her
                  loading we sailed for London, where we arrived in the August following. On my
                  return to London, I waited on my old and good master, Dr. Irving, who made me an
                  offer of his service again. Being now tired of the sea I gladly accepted it. I was
                  very happy in living with this gentleman once more; during which time we were
                  daily employed in reducing old Neptune's dominions <pb n="107" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p107.jpg"/> by purifying the briny element and
                  making it fresh. Thus I went on till May 1773, when I was roused by the sound of
                  fame, to seek new adventures, and find, towards the north pole, what our Creator
                  never intended we should, a passage to India. An expedition was now fitting out to
                  explore a north-east passage, conducted by the Honourable Constantine John Phipps,
                  since Lord Mulgrave, in his Majesty's sloop of war the Race Horse. My master being
                  anxious for the reputation of this adventure, we therefore prepared every thing
                  for our voyage, and I attended him on board the Race Horse, the 24th day of May,
                  1773. We proceeded to <ref target="sheerness_" corresp="sheerness">Sheerness</ref>, where we were joined by his Majesty's sloop the Carcass,
                  commanded by Captain Lutwidge. On the 4th of June, we sailed towards our destined
                  place, the <pb n="108" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p108.jpg"/> pole; and on the
                  15th of the same month we were off Shetland. On this day I had a great and
                  unexpected deliverance from an accident which was near blowing up the ship and
                  destroying the crew, which made me ever after during the voyage uncommonly
                  cautious. The ship was so filled that there was very little room on board for any
                  one, which placed me in a very aukward situation. I had resolved to keep a journal
                  of this singular and interesting voyage; and I had no other place for this purpose
                  but a little cabin, or the doctor's store-room, where I slept. This little place
                  was stuffed with all manner of combustibles, particularly with tow and <ref target="aquafortis_" corresp="aquafortis">aquafortis</ref>, and many other
                  dangerous things. Unfortunately it happened in the evening as I was writing my
                  journal, that I had occasion to take the candle out of the <pb n="109" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p109.jpg"/>
                  <ref target="lanthorn_" corresp="lanthorn">lanthorn</ref>, and a spark having
                  touched a single thread of the tow, all the rest caught the flame, and immediately
                  the whole was in a blaze. I saw nothing but present death before me, and expected
                  to be the first to perish in the flames. In a moment the alarm was spread, and
                  many people who were near, ran to assist in putting out the fire. All this time I
                  was in the very midst of the flames; my shirt, and the handkerchief on my neck,
                  were burnt, and I was almost smothered with the smoke. However, through God's
                  mercy, as I was nearly giving up all hopes, some people brought blankets and
                  mattresses and threw them on the flames, by which means in a short time the fire
                  was put out. I was severely reprimanded and menaced by such of the officers who
                  knew it, and strictly charged never more to go there with a <pb n="110" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p110.jpg"/> light: and, indeed, even my own fears
                  made me give heed to this command for a little time—but at last, not being able to
                  write my journal in any other part of the ship, I was tempted again to venture by
                  stealth with a light in the same cabin, though not without considerable fear and
                  dread on my mind. On the 20th of June, we began to use Dr. Irving's apparatus for
                  making salt water fresh; I used to attend the distillery: I frequently purified
                  from twenty-six to forty gallons a day. The water thus distilled was perfectly
                  pure, well tasted, and free from salt; and was used on various occasions on board
                  the ship. On the 28th of June, being in lat. 78, we made Greenland, where I was
                  surprized to see the sun did not set. The weather now became extremely cold; and
                  as we sailed between north and east, which was our <pb n="111" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p111.jpg"/> course, we saw many very high and
                  curious mountains of ice; and also a great number of very large whales, which used
                  to come close to our ship, and blow the water up to a very great height in the
                  air. One morning we had vast quantities of <ref target="walrus_" corresp="walrus">sea-horses</ref> about the ship, which neighed exactly like any other horses.
                  We fired some harpoon guns amongst them, in order to take some; but we could not
                  get any. The 30th, the captain of a Greenland ship came on board, and told us of
                  three ships that were lost in the ice; however we still held on our course till
                  July the 11th, when we were stopt by one compact impenetrable body of ice. We ran
                  along it from east to west above ten degrees; and on the 27th we got as far north
                  as 80, 37; and in 19 or 20 degrees; east longitude from London. On the 29th and
                  30th of <pb n="112" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p112.jpg"/> July, we saw one
                  continued plain of smooth unbroken ice, bounded only by the horizon; and we
                  fastened to a piece of ice that was eight yards eleven inches thick. We had
                  generally sunshine, and constant daylight; which gave cheerfulness and novelty to
                  the whole of this striking, grand, and uncommon scene; and, to heighten it still
                  more, the reflection of the sun from the ice gave the clouds a most beautiful
                  appearance. We killed many different animals at this time, and among the rest nine
                  bears. Though they had nothing in their paunches but water yet they were all very
                  fat. We used to decoy them to the ship sometimes by burning feathers of skins. I
                  thought them coarse eating, but some of the ship's company relished them very
                  much. Some of our people once, in the boat, fired at and wounded a seahorse, <pb n="113" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p113.jpg"/> which dived immediately; and
                  in a little time after, brought up with it a number of others. They all joined in
                  an attack upon the boat, and were with difficulty prevented from staving or
                  oversetting her; but a boat from the Carcass having come to assist ours, and
                  joined it, they dispersed, after having wrested an oar from one of the men. One of
                  the ship's boats had before been attacked in the same manner, but happily no harm
                  was done. Though we wounded several of these animals we never got but one. We
                  remained hereabouts until the 1st of August; when the two ships got completely
                  fastened in the ice, occasioned by the loose ice that set in from the sea. This
                  made our situation very dreadful and alarming; so that on the 7th day, we were in
                  very great apprehension of having the ships squeezed to pieces. <pb n="114" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p114.jpg"/> The officers now held a council to
                  know what was best for us to do in order to save our lives; and it was determined
                  that we should endeavour to escape by dragging our boats along the ice towards the
                  sea; which, however, was farther off than any of us thought. This determination
                  filled us with extreme dejection, and confounded us with despair; for we had very
                  little prospect of escaping with life. However, we sawed some of the ice about the
                  ships, to keep it from hurting them; and thus kept them in a kind of pond. We then
                  began to drag the boats as well as we could towards the sea; but, after two or
                  three days labour, we made very little progress; so that some of our hearts
                  totally failed us, and I really began to give up myself for lost, when I saw our
                  surrounding calamities. While we were <pb n="115" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p115.jpg"/> at this hard labour, I once fell into
                  a pond we had made amongst some loose ice, and was very near being drowned; but
                  providentially some people were near who gave me immediate assistance, and thereby
                  I escaped drowning. Our deplorable condition, which kept up the constant
                  apprehension of our perishing in the ice, brought me gradually to think of
                  eternity in such a manner as I never had done before. I had the fears of death
                  hourly upon me, and shuddered at the thoughts of meeting the grim king of terrors
                  in the <hi rend="italic">natural</hi> state I then was in, and was exceedingly
                  doubtful of a happy eternity if I should die in it. I had no hopes of my life
                  being prolonged for any time; for we saw that our existence could not be long on
                  the ice after leaving the ships, which were now out of sight, and some miles from
                  the boats. <pb n="116" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p116.jpg"/> Our appearance
                  now became truly lamentable; pale dejection seized every countenance; many, who
                  had been before blasphemers, in this our distress began to call on the good God of
                  heaven for his help; and in the time of our utter need he heard us, and against
                  hope or human probability, delivered us! It was the eleventh day of the ships
                  being thus fastened, and the fourth of our drawing the boats in this manner, that
                  the wind changed to the E. N. E. The weather immediately became mild, and the ice
                  broke towards the sea, which was to the S. W. of us. Many of us on this got on
                  board again, and with all our might we hove the ships into every open water we
                  could find, and made all the sail on them in our power: and now, having a prospect
                  of success, we made signals for the boats and the remainder <pb n="117" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p117.jpg"/> of the people. This seemed to us like
                  a reprieve from death; and happy was the man who could first get on board of any
                  ship, or the first boat he could meet. We then proceeded in this manner till we
                  got into the open water again, which we accomplished in about thirty hours, to our
                  infinite joy and gladness of heart. As soon as we were out of danger, we came to
                  anchor and refitted; and on the 19th of August, we sailed from this uninhabited
                  extremity of the world, where the inhospitable climate affords neither food nor
                  shelter, and not a tree or shrub of any kind grows amongst its barren rocks; but
                  all is one desolate and expanded waste of ice, which even the constant beams of
                  the sun for six months in the year, cannot penetrate or dissolve. The sun now
                  being on the decline, the days shortened as <pb n="118" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p118.jpg"/> we sailed to the southward; and, on
                  the 28th, in latitude 73, it was dark by ten o'clock at night. September the 10th,
                  in latitude 58-59, we met a very severe gale of wind and high seas, and shipped a
                  great deal of water in the space of ten hours. This made us work exceedingly hard
                  at all our pumps a whole day; and one sea, which struck the ship with more force
                  than any thing I ever met with of the kind before, laid her under water for some
                  time, so that we thought she would have gone down. Two boats were washed from the
                  booms, and the long-boat from the chucks: all other moveable things on the decks
                  were also washed away, among which were many curious things of different kinds
                  which we had brought from Greenland; and we were obliged, in order to lighten the
                  ship, to toss some of our guns overboard. <pb n="119" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p119.jpg"/> We saw a ship at the same time, in
                  very great distress, and her masts were gone; but we were unable to assist her. We
                  now lost sight of the Carcass till the 26th, when we saw land about <ref target="orfordness_" corresp="orfordness">Orfordness</ref>, off which place she
                  joined us. From thence we sailed for London, and on the 30th came up to Deptford.
                  And thus ended our Arctic voyage, to the no small joy of all on board, after
                  having been absent four months; in which time, at the imminent hazard of our
                  lives, we explored nearly as far towards the Pole as 81 degrees north, and 20
                  degrees east longitude; being much farther, by all accounts, than any navigator
                  had ever ventured before; in which we fully proved the impracticability of finding
                  a passage that way to India.</p>
            </div>
            <div n="10" type="chapter">
               <pb n="120" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p120.jpg"/>
               <head>CHAP. X.</head>
               
                  <p>
                     <hi rend="italic">The author leaves Doctor Irving, and engages on board a
                        Turkey ship—Account of a black man's being kidnapped on board and sent to
                        the West Indies, and the author's fruitless endeavours to procure his
                        freedom—some account of the manner of the author's conversion to the faith
                        of Jesus Christ.</hi>
                  </p>
               
               <p>Our voyage to the North Pole being ended, I returned to London with Doctor Irving,
                  with whom I continued for some time, during which I began seriously to reflect on
                  the dangers I had escaped, particularly those of my last voyage, which made a
                  lasting impression on my mind; and, by the grace of God, <pb n="121" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p121.jpg"/> proved afterwards a mercy to me; it
                  caused me to reflect deeply on my eternal state, and to seek the Lord with full
                  purpose of heart ere it was too late. I rejoiced greatly; and heartily thanked the
                  Lord for directing me to London, where I was determined to work out my own
                  salvation, and in so doing, procure a title to heaven; being the result of a mind
                  blended by ignorance and sin.</p>
               <p>In process of time I left my master, Doctor Irving, the purifier of waters. I
                  lodged in Coventry-court, Haymarket, where I was continually oppressed and much
                  concerned about the salvation of my soul, and was determined (in my own strength)
                  to be a first-rate Christian. I used every means for this purpose; and, not being
                  able to find any person amongst those with <pb n="122" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p122.jpg"/> whom I was then acquainted that
                  acquiesced with me in point of religion, or, in scripture language, that would
                  shew me any good, I was much dejected, and knew not where to seek relief; however,
                  I first frequented the neighbouring churches, st. James's, and others, two or
                  three times a day, for many weeks: still I came away dissatisfied: something was
                  wanting that I could not obtain, and I really found more heart-felt relief in
                  reading my bible at home than in attending the church; and, being resolved to be
                  saved, I pursued other methods. First I went among the quakers, where the word of
                  God was neither read or preached, so that I remained as much in the dark as ever.
                  I then searched into the Roman Catholic principles, but was not in the least
                  edified. I at length had recourse to the Jews, which availed me <pb n="123" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p123.jpg"/> nothing, as the fear of eternity
                  daily harassed my mind, and I knew not where to seek shelter from the wrath to
                  come. However this was my conclusion, at all events, to read the four evangelists,
                  and whatever sect or party I found adhering thereto, such I would join. Thus I
                  went on heavily without any guide to direct me the way that leadeth to eternal
                  life. I asked different people questions about the manner of going to heaven, and
                  was told different ways. Here I was much staggered, and could not find any at that
                  time more righteous than myself, or indeed so much inclined to devotion. I thought
                  we should not all be saved (this is agreeable to the holy scriptures) nor would
                  all be damned. I found none among the circle of my acquaintance that kept wholly
                  the ten commandments. so righteous was I in my own <pb n="124" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p124.jpg"/> eyes, that I was convinced I excelled
                  many of them in that point, by keeping eight out of ten; and finding those who in
                  general termed themselves Christians not so honest or so good in their morals as
                  the Turks, I really thought the Turks were in a safer way of salvation than my
                  neighbours: so that between hopes and fears I went on, and the chief comforts I
                  enjoyed were in the musical French horn, which I then practised, and also dressing
                  of hair. Such was my situation some months, experiencing the dishonesty of many
                  people here. I determined at last to set out for Turkey, and there to end my days.
                  It was now early in the spring 1774. I sought for a master, and found a captain
                  John Hughes, commander of a ship called Anglicania, fitting out in the river
                  Thames, and bound to <ref target="smyrna_" corresp="smyrna">Smyrna</ref> in
                  Turkey. I shipped myself with him as a <pb n="125" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p125.jpg"/> steward; at the same time I
                  recommended to him a very clever black man, John Annis, as a cook. This man was on
                  board the ship near two months doing his duty: he had formerly lived many years
                  with Mr. William Kirkpatrick, a gentleman of the island of St. Kitts, from whom he
                  parted by consent, though he afterwards tried many schemes to <ref target="inveigle_" corresp="inveigle">inveigle</ref> the poor man. He had
                  applied to many captains who traded to St. Kitts to <ref target="trepan_" corresp="trepan">trepan</ref> him; and when all their attempts and schemes of
                  kidnapping proved abortive, Mr. Kirkpatrick came to our ship at Union stairs, on
                  Easter Monday, April the fourth, with two wherry boats and six men, having learned
                  that the man was on board; and tied, and forcibly took him away from the ship, in
                  the presence of the crew and the chief mate, who had detained him after he had
                  information <pb n="126" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p126.jpg"/> to come away. I
                  believe this was a combined piece of business: but, be that as it may, it
                  certainly reflected great disgrace on the mate and captain also, who, although
                  they had desired the oppressed man to stay on board, yet this vile act on the man
                  who had served him, he did not in the least assist to recover or pay me a farthing
                  of his wages, which was about five pounds. I proved the only friend he had, who
                  attempted to regain him his liberty if possible, having known the want of liberty
                  myself. I sent as soon as I could to Gravesend, and got knowledge of the ship in
                  which he was; but unluckily she had sailed the first tide after he was put on
                  board. My intention was then immediately to apprehend Mr. Kirkpatrick, who was
                  about setting off for scotland; and, having obtained a <hi rend="italic">habeas
                     corpus</hi> for him, and got a tipstaff to <pb n="127" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p127.jpg"/> go with me to st. Paul's church-yard,
                  where he lived, he, suspecting something of this kind, set a watch to look out. My
                  being known to them, obliged me to use the following deception: I whitened my
                  face, that they might not know me, and this had the desired effect. He did not go
                  out of his house that night, and next morning I contrived a well plotted
                  stratagem, notwithstanding he had a gentleman in his house to personate him. My
                  direction to the tipstaff, who got admittance into the house, was to conduct him
                  to a judge, accord ing to the writ. When he came there, his plea was, that he had
                  not the body in custody, on which he was admitted to bail. I proceeded immediately
                  to that well known philanthropist, Granville sharp, <abbr>Esq</abbr> who received
                  me with the utmost kindness, and gave me every instruction that was needful on <pb n="128" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p128.jpg"/> the occasion. I lest him in
                  full hope that I should gain the unhappy man his liberty, with the warmest sense
                  of gratitude towards Mr. sharp, for his kindness; but alas! my attor ney proved
                  unfaithful; he took my money, lost me many months employ, and did not do the least
                  good in the cause; and when the poor man arrived at st. Kitts, he was, according
                  to custom, staked to the ground with four pins through a cord, two on his wrists,
                  and two on his ancles, was cut and flogged most unmercifully, and afterwards
                  loaded cruelly with irons about his neck. I had two very moving letters from him,
                  while he was in this situation; and made attempts to go after him at a great
                  hazard, but was sadly disappointed: I also was told of it by some very respectable
                  families now in London, who saw him in st. Kitts, in the same state, in which he
                  remained till kind death released <pb n="129" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p129.jpg"/> him out of the hands of his ty rants.
                  During this disagreeable busi ness I was under strong convictions of sin, and
                  thought that my state was worse than any man's; my mind was unaccountably
                  disturbed; I often wished for death, though at the same time con vinced I was
                  altogether unprepared for that awful summons. suffering much by villains in the
                  late cause, and being much concerned about the state of my soul, these things (but
                  particularly the latter) brought me very low; so that I became a burden to myself,
                  and viewed all things around me as emptiness and vanity, which could give no
                  satisfaction to a troubled conscience. I was again determined to go to Turkey, and
                  resolved, at that time, never more to return to England. I engaged as steward on
                  board a Turkeyman (the Wester Hall, Capt. Lina) but was prevented by means of my
                  late captain, Mr. Hughes, and others. All this appeared <pb n="130" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p130.jpg"/> to be against me, and the only
                  comfort I then experienced was, in reading the holy scriptures, where I saw that
                     'there is no new thing under the
                     sun,' Eccles. i. 9; and what was appointed for me I must submit to.
                  Thus I continued to travel in much heaviness, and fre quently murmured against the
                  Almighty, particularly in his providential dealings; and, awful to think! I be gan
                  to blaspheme, and wished often to be any thing but a human being. In these severe
                  conflicts the Lord answered me by awful 'visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in slumberings upon
                     the bed,' Job xxxiii. 15. He was pleased, in much mercy, to give me to
                  see, and in some measure understand, the great and awful scene of the
                  judgment-day, that 'no unclean person, no
                     unholy thing, can enter into the kingdom of God, Eph. <pb n="131" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p131.jpg"/> v. 5. I would then, if it had been
                  possible, have changed my nature with the meanest worm on the earth; and was ready
                  to say to the mountains and rocks 'fall on
                     me,'  Rev. vi. 16; but all in vain. I then in the greatest agony
                  requested the divine Creator, that he would grant me a small space of time to
                  repent of my follies and vile iniquities, which I felt were grievous. The Lord, in
                  his manifold mercies, was pleased to grant my request, and being yet in a state of
                  time the sense of God's mercies were so great on my mind when I awoke, that my
                  strength entirely failed me for many minutes, and I was exceedingly weak. This was
                  the first spiritual mercy I ever was sensible or, and being on praying ground, as
                  soon as I recovered a little strength, and got out of bed and dressed myself, I
                  invoked Heaven from my inmost soul, and servently begged that God would never <pb n="132" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p132.jpg"/> again permit me to blaspheme
                  his most holy name. The Lord, who is long suffering, and full of compassion to
                  such poor rebels as we are, condescended to hear and answer. I felt that I was al
                  together unholy, and saw clearly what a bad use I had made of the faculties I was
                  endowed with: they were given me to glorify God with; I thought, therefore, I had
                  better want them here, and enter into life eternal, than abuse them and be cast
                  into hell sire. I prayed to be directed, if there were any holier than those with
                  whom I was acquaint ed, that the Lord would point them out to me. I appealed to
                  the searcher of hearts, whether I did not wish to love him more, and serve him
                  better. Notwithstanding all this, the reader may ea sily discern, if a believer,
                  that I was still in nature's darkness. At length I hated <pb n="133" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p133.jpg"/> the house in which I lodged, because
                  God's most holy name was blasphemed in it; then I saw the word of God verified,
                  viz. 'Before they call, I will answer; and
                     while they are yet speaking, I will hear.'
               </p>
               <p>I had a great desire to read the bible the whole day at home; but not having a
                  convenient place for retirement, I left the house in the day, rather than stay
                  amongst the wicked ones; and that day as I was walking, it pleased God to direct
                  me to a house where there was an old sea-faring man, who experienced much of the
                  love of God shed abroad in his heart. He began to discourse with me; and, as I
                  desired to love the Lord, his conversation rejoiced me greatly; and indeed I had
                  never heard before the love of Christ to believers set forth in such a manner, and
                  in so clear a point of view. Here I had more questions to <pb n="134" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p134.jpg"/> put to the man than his time would
                  permit him to answer: and in that memor able hour there came in a dissenting
                  minister; he joined our discourse, and asked me some few questions; among others,
                  where I heard the gospel preached? I knew not what he meant by hearing the gospel;
                  I told him I had read the gospel: and he asked where I went to church, or whether
                  I went at all or not? To which I replied 'I
                     attended St. James's, St. Martin's, and St. Ann's soho;' 'so,' said he, 'you
                     are a churchman?' I answered, I was. He then invited me to a love feast
                  at his chapel that evening. I ac cepted the offer, and thanked him; and soon after
                  he went away, I had some further discourse with the old Christian, added to some
                  profitable reading, which made me exceedingly happy. When I left him he reminded
                  me <pb n="135" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p135.jpg"/> of coming to the feast; I
                  assured him I would be there. Thus we parted, and I weighed over the heavenly
                  conversation that had passed between these two men, which cheered my then heavy
                  and drooping spirit more than any thing I had met with for many months. However, I
                  thought the time long in going to my supposed banquet. I also wished much for the
                  company of these friendly men; their company pleased me much; and I thought the
                  gentleman very kind in asking me, a stranger, to a feast; but how singular did it
                  appear to me, to have it in a chapel! When the wished for hour came I went, and
                  happily the old man was there, who kindly seated me, as he belonged to the place.
                  I was much astonished to see the place filled with people, and no signs of eating
                  and drinking. There were many ministers in the company. At last they began <pb n="136" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p136.jpg"/> by giving out hymns, and
                  between the singing, the ministers engaged in prayer: in short, I knew not what to
                  make of this sight, having never seen any thing of the kind in my life before now.
                  some of the guests began to speak their experience, agreeable to what I read in
                  the scriptures: much was said by every speaker of the providence of God, and his
                  unspeakable mercies, to each of them. This I knew in a great measure, and could
                  most heartily join them. But when they spoke of a future state, they seemed to be
                  altogether certain of their calling and election of God; and that no one could
                  ever seperate them from the love of Christ, or pluck them out of his hands. This
                  filled me with utter consternation, intermingled with admiration. I was so amazed
                  as not to know what to think of the com pany; my heart was attracted, and my <pb n="137" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p137.jpg"/> affections were enlarged. I
                  wished to be as happy as them, and was persuaded in my mind that they were
                  different from the world 'that lieth in wickedness,'
                  1 John v. 19. Their language and singing, &amp;c. did well harmonize; I was
                  entirely overcome, and wished to live and die thus. Lastly, some persons in the
                  place produced some neat baskets full of buns, which they distributed about; and
                  each person communicated with his neighbour, and sipped water out of different
                  mugs, which they handed about to all who were present. This kind of Christian
                  fellow ship I had never seen, nor ever thought of seeing on earth; it fully
                  reminded me of what I had read in the holy scrip tures, of the primitive
                  Christians, who loved each other and broke bread; in partaking of it, even from
                  house to house. This entertainment (which lasted about four hours) ended in
                  singing <pb n="138" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p138.jpg"/> and prayer. It was
                  the first soul feast I ever was present at. This last twenty-four hours produced
                  me things, spiritual and temporal, sleeping and waking, judgment and mercy, that I
                  could not but admire the goodness of God, in directing the blind, blasphem ous
                  sinner in the path that he knew not of, even among the just; and instead of
                  judgment he has shewed mercy, and will hear and answer the prayers and
                  supplications of every returning prodigal: <quote>
                     <lg>
                        <l>O! to grace how great a debtor</l>
                        <l>Daily I'm constrain'd to be!</l>
                     </lg>
                  </quote>
               </p>
               <p>After this I was resolved to win Heaven if possible; and if I perished I thought
                  it should be at the feet of Jesus, in praying to him for salvation. After having
                  been an eye-witness to some of the happiness which attended those who feared God,
                  I knew not how, with any <pb n="139" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p139.jpg"/>
                  propriety, to return to my lodgings, where the name of God was continually
                  profaned, at which I felt the greatest horror; I paused in my mind for some time,
                  not knowing what to do; whether to hire a bed elsewhere, or go home again. At
                  last fearing an evil report might arise, I went home, with a farewel to
                  card-playing and vain jesting, &amp;c. I saw that time was very short, eternity
                  long, and very near; and I viewed those persons alone blessed who were found ready
                  at midnight call, or when the judge of all, both quick and dead, cometh.</p>
               <p>The next day I took courage, and went to Holborn, to see my new and worthy
                  acquaintance, the old man, Mr. C—; he, with his wife, a gracious woman, were at
                  work at silk weaving; they seemed mutually happy, and both quite glad to see me,
                  and I <pb n="140" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p140.jpg"/> more so to see them. I
                  sat down and we conversed much about soul matters, &amp;c. Their discourse was
                  amazingly delightful, edifying, and pleasant. I knew not at last how to leave this
                  agreeable pair, till time summoned me away. As I was going they lent me a little
                  book, entitled "The conversion of an Indian." It was in questions and answers. The
                  poor man came over the sea to London, to inquire after the Christian's God, who,
                  (through rich mercy) he found, and had not his journey in vain. The above book was
                  of great use to me, and at that time was a means of strengthening my faith;
                  however, in parting, they both invited me to call on them when I pleased. This
                  delighted me, and I took care to make all the improvement from it I could; and so
                  far I thanked God for such com pany and desires. I prayed that the <pb n="141" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p141.jpg"/> many evils I felt within might be
                  done away, and that I might be weaned from my former carnal acquaintances. This
                  was quickly heard and answered, and I was soon connected with those whom the
                  scripture calls the excellent of the earth. I heard the gospel preached, and the
                  thoughts of my heart and actions were laid open by the preachers, and the way of
                  salvation by Christ alone was evidently set forth. Thus I went on happily for near
                  two months; and I once heard, during this period, a reverend gentleman Mr. G.
                  speak of a man who had departed this life in full assurance of his going to glory
                  I was much asto nished at the assertion; and did very deliberately inquire how he
                  could get at this knowledge. I was answered fully, agreeable to what I read in the
                  oracles of truth; and was told also, that if I did not experience the new birth,
                     <pb n="142" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p142.jpg"/> and the pardon of my
                  sins, through the blood of Christ, before I died, I could not enter the kingdom of
                  heaven. I knew not what to think of this report, as I thought I kept eight
                  commandments out of ten; then my worthy interpreter told me I did not do it, nor
                  could I; and he added, that no man ever did or could keep the commandments,
                  without offending in one point. I thought this sounded very strange, and puzzled
                  me much for many weeks; for I thought it a hard saying. I then asked my friend Mr.
                  L—d, who was a clerk in a chapel, why the commandments of God were given, if we
                  could not be saved by them? To which he replied, 'The law is a schoolmaster to bring us to
                     Christ,' who alone could and did keep the commandments, and fulfilled
                  all their requirements for his elect people, even those to whom he had given <pb n="143" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p143.jpg"/> a living faith, and the sins
                  of those chosen vessels <hi rend="italic">were already</hi> atoned for and
                  forgiven them whilst living; and if I did not experience the same before my exit,
                  the Lord would say at that great day to me, 'Go, ye
                     cursed,' &amp;c. &amp;c. for God would appear faithful in his judgments
                  to the wicked, as he would be faithful in shewing mercy to those were ordained to
                  it before the world was; therefore Christ Jesus seemed to be all in all to that
                  man's soul. I was much wounded at this discourse, and brought into such a dilemma
                  as I never expected. I asked him, if <hi rend="italic">he</hi> was to die that
                  moment, whether he was sure to enter the kingdom of God? and added, 'Do you <hi rend="italic">know</hi> that your sins are forgiven
                     you?' He answered in the affirmative. Then confusion, anger, and
                  discontent seized me, and I staggered much at this sort of doctrine; it <pb n="144" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p144.jpg"/> brought me to a stand, not
                  knowing which to believe, whether salvation by works, or by faith only in Christ.
                  I requested him to tell me how I might know when my sins were forgiven me. He
                  assured me he could not, and that none but God alone could do this. I told him it
                  was very mysterious; but he said it was really matter of fact, and quoted many
                  portions of scripture immediately to the point, to which I could make no reply. He
                  then desired me to pray to God to shew me these things. I answered, that I prayed
                  to God every day? He said, 'I perceive you are
                     a churchman. I answered, I was. He then entreated me to beg of God to
                  shew me what I was, and the true state of my soul. I thought the prayer very short
                  and odd; so we parted for that time. I weighed all these things well over, and
                  could not help thinking how it was possible for a man to know <pb n="145" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p145.jpg"/> that his sins were forgiven him in
                  this life. I wished that God would reveal this self same thing unto me. In a short
                  time after this I went to Westminster chapel; the Rev. Mr. P— preached from Lam.
                  iii. 39. It was a wonderful sermon; he clearly shewed that a living man had no
                  cause to complain for the punishments of his sins; he evidently justified the Lord
                  in all his dealings with the sons of men; he also shewed the justice of God in the
                  eternal punishment of the wicked and impenitent. The discourse seemed to me like a
                  two-edged sword cutting all ways; it afforded me much joy, intermingled with many
                  fears about my soul; and when it was ended, he gave it out that he intended, the
                  ensuing week, to examine all those who meant to attend the Lord's table. Now I
                  thought much of my good works, and at the same time was doubtful <pb n="146" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p146.jpg"/> of my being a proper object to re
                  ceive the sacrament; I was full of me ditation till the day of examining. However,
                  I went to the chapel, and, though much distressed, I addressed the reverend
                  gentleman, thinking if I was not right, he would endeavour to convince me of it.
                  When I conversed with him, the first thing he asked me, was, what I knew of
                  Christ? I told him I believed in him, and had been baptized in his name. 'Then,' said he, 'when
                     were you brought to the knowledge of God? and how were you convinced of
                     sin?' I knew not what he meant by these questions; I told him I kept
                  eight commandments out of ten; but that I sometimes swore on board ship, and
                  sometimes when on shore, and broke the sabbath. He then asked me if I could read?
                  I answered, 'Yes.' 'Then,' said he, 'do you not read
                     in the bible <pb n="147" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p147.jpg"/> he that
                     offends in one point is guilty of all?' I said, 'Yes.' Then he assured me, that one sin unatoned for was as sufficient
                  to damn a soul as one leak was to sink a ship. Here I was struck with awe; for the
                  minister exhorted me much, and reminded me of the shortness of time, and the
                  length of eternity, and that no unregenerate soul, or any thing unclean, could
                  enter the kingdom of Heaven.</p>
               <p>He did not admit me as a communicant; but recommended me to read the scriptures,
                  and hear the word preached, not to neglect fervent prayer to God, who has promised
                  to hear the suppli cations of those who seek him in godly sincerity; so I took my
                  leave of him, with many thanks, and resolved to follow his advice, so far as the
                  Lord would condescend to enable me. During this time I was out of employ, nor was
                  I <pb n="148" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p148.jpg"/> likely to get a situation
                  suitable for me, which obliged me to go once more to sea. I engaged as steward of
                  a ship called the Hope, Capt. Richard strange, bound from London to Cadiz in
                  spain. In a short time after I was on board I heard the name of God much blas
                  phemed, and I feared greatly, lest I should catch the horrible infection. I
                  thought if I sinned again, after having life and death set evidently before me, I
                  should certainly go to hell. My mind was uncommonly chagrined, and I murmured much
                  at God's providential dealings with me, and was discontented with the
                  commandments, that I could not be saved by what I had done; I hated all things,
                  and wished I had never been born; confusion seized me, and I wished to be
                  annihilated. One day I was standing on the very edge of the stern of the ship,
                  thinking to drown <pb n="149" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p149.jpg"/> myself;
                  but this scripture was instantly impressed on my mind—'That no murderer hath eternal life abiding in
                     him,' 1 John iii. 15. Then I paused, and thought myself the unhappiest
                  man living. Again I was convinced that the Lord was better to me than I deserved,
                  and I was better off in the world than many. After this I began to fear death; I
                  fretted, mourned, and prayed, till I became a burden to others, but more so to
                  myself. At length I concluded to beg my bread on shore rather than go again to sea
                  amongst a people who feared not God, and I entreated the captain three different
                  times to discharge me; he would not, but each time gave me greater and greater
                  encouragement to continue with him, and all on board shewed me very great
                  civility: notwithstanding all this I was unwilling to embark again. At last some
                  of my <pb n="150" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p150.jpg"/> religious friends
                  advised me, by saying it was my lawful calling, consequently it was my duty to
                  obey, and that God was not confined to place, &amp;c. &amp;c. particularly Mr. G.
                  S. the governor of Tothil-fields Bridewell, who pitied my case, and read the
                  eleventh chapter of the Hebrews to me, with exhortations. He prayed for me, and I
                  believed that he prevailed on my behalf, as my burden was then greatly removed,
                  and I found a heartfelt resignation to the will of God. The good man gave me a
                  pocket Bible and <ref target="alarm_" corresp="alarm">Alleine's Alarm to the
                     Unconverted </ref>. We parted, and the next day I went on board again. We
                  sailed for Spain, and I found favour with the captain. It was the fourth of the
                  month of September when we sailed from London; we had a delightful voyage to
                  Cadiz, where we arrived the twenty-third of the same month. The place <pb n="151" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p151.jpg"/> is strong, commands a fine prospect,
                  and is very rich. The Spanish galloons frequent that port, and some arrived whilst
                  we were there. I had many opportunities of reading the scriptures. I wrestled hard
                  with God in fervent prayer, who had declared in his word that he would hear the
                  groanings and deep sighs of the poor in spirit. I found this verified to my utter
                  astonishment and comfort in the following manner:</p>
               <p>On the morning of the 6th of October, (I pray you to attend) all that day, I
                  thought that I should either see or hear something supernatural. I had a secret
                  impulse on my mind of something that was to take place, which drove me continually
                  for that time to a throne of grace. It pleased God to enable me to wrestle with
                  him, as Jacob did: I prayed that if sudden death were to happen, and I perished,
                  it might be at Christ's feet.</p>
               <p>
                  <pb n="152" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p152.jpg"/> In the evening of the same
                  day, as I was reading and meditating on the fourth chapter of the Acts, <ref target="acts_" corresp="acts">twelfth verse </ref>, under the solemn
                  apprehensions of eternity, and reflecting on my past actions, I began to think I
                  had lived a moral life, and that I had a proper ground to believe I had an
                  interest in the divine favour; but still meditating on the subject, not knowing
                  whether salvation was to be had partly for our own good deeds, or solely as the
                  sovereign gift of God;—in this deep consternation the Lord was pleased to break in
                  upon my soul with his bright beams of heavenly light; and in an instant as it
                  were, removing the veil, and letting light into a dark place, I saw clearly with
                  the eye of faith the crucified Saviour bleeding on the cross on mount Calvary: the
                  scriptures became an unsealed book, I saw myself a condemned criminal under the
                  law, <pb n="153" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p153.jpg"/> which came with its
                  full force to my conscience, and when 'the
                     commandment came sin revived, and I died.' I saw the Lord Jesus Christ
                  in his humiliation, loaded and bearing my reproach, sin, and shame. I then clearly
                  perceived that by the deeds of the law no flesh living could be justified. I was
                  then convinced that by the first Adam sin came, and by the second Adam (the Lord
                  Jesus Christ) all that are saved must be made alive. It was given me at that time
                  to know what it was to be born again, <ref target="bornagain_" corresp="bornagain">John iii. 5.</ref> I saw the eighth chapter to the Romans, and the doctrines
                  of God's decrees, verified agreeable to his eternal, everlasting, and unchangeable
                  purposes. The word of God was sweet to my taste, yea sweeter than honey and the
                  honeycomb. Christ was revealed to my soul as the chiefest among ten thousand.
                  These heavenly moments <pb n="154" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p154.jpg"/> were
                  really as life to the dead, and what John calls an earnest of the <ref target="spirit_" corresp="spirit">spirit*</ref>. This
                  was indeed unspeakable, and I firmly believe undeniable by many. Now every leading
                  providential circumstance that happened to me, from the day I was taken from my
                  parents to that hour, was then in my view, as if it had but just then occurred. I
                  was sensible of the invisible hand of God, which guided and protected me when in
                  truth I knew it not: still the Lord pursued me although I slighted and disregarded
                  it; this mercy melted me down. When I considered my poor wretched state I wept,
                  seeing what a great debtor I was to sovereign free grace. Now the Ethiopian was
                  willing to be saved by Jesus Christ, the sinner's only surety, and also to rely on
                  none other person or thing for salvation. <note xml:id="spirit" target="spirit_">* John xvi. 13, 14. &amp;c. [Equiano's note]</note>
                  <pb n="155" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p155.jpg"/> Self was obnoxious, and good
                  works he had none, for it is God that worketh in us both to will and to do. Oh!
                  The amazing things of that hour can never be told—it was joy in the Holy Ghost! I
                  felt an astonishing change; the burden of sin, the gaping jaws of hell, and the
                  fears of death, that weighed me down before, now lost their horror; indeed I
                  thought death would now be the best earthly friend I ever had. Such were my grief
                  and joy as I believe are seldom experienced. I was bathed in tears, and said, What
                  am I that God should thus look on me the vilest of sinners? I felt a deep concern
                  for my mother and friends, which occasioned me to pray with fresh <ref target="ardour_" corresp="ardour">ardour</ref>, and in the abyss of thought, I
                  viewed the unconverted people of the world in a very awful state, being without
                  God and without hope.</p>
               <p>
                  <pb n="156" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p156.jpg"/> It pleased God to pour out
                  on me the Spirit of prayer and the grace of <ref target="supplication_" corresp="supplication">supplication</ref>, so that in loud acclamations I was
                  enabled to praise and glorify his most holy name. When I got out of the cabin, and
                  told some of the people what the Lord had done for me, alas, who could understand
                  me or believe my report!—None but to whom the arm of the Lord was revealed. I
                  became a barbarian to them in talking of the love of Christ: his name was to me as
                  ointment poured forth; indeed it was sweet to my soul, but to them a rock of
                  offence. I thought my case singular, and every hour a day until I came to London,
                  for I much longed to be with some to whom I could tell of the wonders of God's
                  love towards me, and join in prayer to him whom my soul loved and thirsted after.
                  I had uncommon commotions within, such as few can tell aught about. Now the bible
                  was my <pb n="157" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p157.jpg"/> only companion and
                  comfort; I prized it much, with many thanks to God that I could read it for
                  myself, and was not left to be tossed about or led by man's devices and notions.
                  The worth of a soul cannot be told.—May the Lord give the reader an understanding
                  in this. Whenever I looked in the bible I saw things new, and many texts were
                  immediately applied to me with great comfort, for I knew that to me was the word
                  of salvation sent. Sure I was that the spirit which <ref target="indited_" corresp="indited">indited</ref> the word opened my heart to receive the truth
                  of it as it is in Jesus—that the same spirit enabled me to act faith upon the
                  promises that were precious to me, and enabled me to believe to the salvation of
                  my soul. By free grace I was persuaded that I had a part in the first
                  resurrection, and was enlightened with the 'light of the
                     living,' Job xxxiii. 30. <pb n="158" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p158.jpg"/> I wished for a man of God with whom I
                  might converse: my soul was like the chariots of <ref target="aminadab_" corresp="aminadab">Aminadab</ref>, Canticles vi. 12. These among others, were
                  the precious promises that were so powerfully applied to me: 'All things whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer,
                     believing, ye shall receive,' Matt. xxi. 22. 'Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto
                     you,' John xiv. 27. I saw the blessed Redeemer to be the fountain of
                  life, and the well of salvation. I experienced him to be all in all; he had
                  brought me by a way that I knew not, and he had made crooked paths straight. Then
                  in his name I set up my Ebenezer, saying, Hitherto he hath helped me: and could
                  say to the sinners about me, Behold what a saviour I have! Thus I was, by the
                  teaching of that all-glorious Deity, the great One in Three, and Three in One,
                  confirmed in the truths of the bible, those oracles <pb n="159" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p159.jpg"/> of everlasting truth, on which every
                  soul living must stand or fall eternally, agreeable to Acts iv. 12. 'Neither is there salvation in any other, for there
                     is none other name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved, but
                     only Christ Jesus.' May God give the reader a right understanding in
                  these facts! 'To him that believeth, all things
                     are possible, but to them that are unbelieving nothing is pure, Titus
                  i. 15.</p>
               <p>During this period we remained at Cadiz until our ship got <ref target="laden_" corresp="laden">laden</ref>. We sailed about the fourth of November; and,
                  having a good passage, we arrived in London the month following, to my comfort,
                  with heartfelt gratitude to God for his rich and unspeakable mercies.</p>
               <p>On my return I had but one text which puzzled me, or that the devil <pb n="160" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p160.jpg"/> endeavoured to buffet me with, viz.
                     <ref target="romans_" corresp="romans">Rom. xi. 6.</ref> and, as I had heard of
                  the Reverend Mr. Romaine, and his great knowledge in the scriptures, I wished much
                  to hear him preach. One day I went to <ref target="blackfriars_" corresp="blackfriars">Blackfriars church</ref>, and, to my great satisfaction
                  and surprise, he preached from that very text. He very clearly <ref target="shewed_" corresp="shewed">shewed</ref> the difference between human
                  works and free election, which is according to God's sovereign will and pleasure.
                  These glad tidings set me entirely at liberty, and I went out of the church
                  rejoicing, seeing my spots were those of God's Children. I went to Westminster
                  Chapel, and saw some of my old friends, who were glad when they perceived the
                  wonderful change that the Lord had wrought in me, particularly Mr. G— s—, my
                  worthy acquaintance, who was a man of a choice spirit, and had great zeal <pb n="161" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p161.jpg"/> sor the Lord's service. I
                  enjoyed his correspondence till he died in the year 1784. I was again examined at
                  that same chapel, and was received into church-fellowship amongst them: I rejoiced
                  in spirit, making melody in my heart to the God of all my mercies, Now my whole
                  wish was to be dissolved, and to be with Christ—but, alas! I must wait mine
                  appointed time.</p>
               <floatingText>
                  <body>
                     <pb n="162" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p162.jpg"/>
                     <div>
                     <head>MISCELLANEOUS VERSES, OR, Reflections on the state of my Mind during my
                        first Convictions, of the Necessity of believing the Truth, and experiencing
                        the inestimable Benefits of Christianity.</head>
                                    </div>
                     <div>
                     <lg>
                        <l>Well may I say my life has been</l>
                        <l>One scene of sorrow and of pain;</l>
                        <l>From early days I griefs have known,</l>
                        <l>And as I grew my griefs have grown:</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>Dangers were always in my path;</l>
                        <l>And fear of wrath, and sometimes death;</l>
                        <l>While pale dejection in me reign'd</l>
                        <l>I often wept, by grief constrain'd.</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>When taken from my native land,</l>
                        <l>By an unjust and cruel band,</l>
                        <l>How did uncommon dread prevail!</l>
                        <l>My sighs no more I could conceal.</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>To ease my mind I often strove,</l>
                        <l>And tried my trouble to remove:</l>
                        <l>I sung, and utter'd sighs between—</l>
                        <l>Assay'd to stifle guilt with sin.</l>
                     </lg>
                     <pb n="163" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p163.jpg"/>
                     <lg>
                        <l>But O' not all that I could do</l>
                        <l>Would stop the current of my woe;</l>
                        <l>Conviction still my vileness shew'd;</l>
                        <l>How great my guilt—how lost to good!</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>' Prevented, that I could not die,</l>
                        <l>' Nor could to one sure refuge fly;</l>
                        <l>' An orphan state I had to mourn,—</l>
                        <l>' Forsook by all, and left forlorn.'</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>Those who beheld my downcast mein,</l>
                        <l>Could not guess at my woes unseen:</l>
                        <l>They by appearance could not know</l>
                        <l>The troubles that I waded through.</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>Lust, anger, blasphemy, and pride,</l>
                        <l>With legions of such ills beside,</l>
                        <l>' Troubled my thoughts,' while doubts and fears</l>
                        <l>Clouded and darken'd most my years.</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>'Sighs now no more would be confin'd—</l>
                        <l>'They breath'd the trouble of my mind:'</l>
                        <l>I wish'd for death, but check'd the word,</l>
                        <l>And often pray'd unto the Lord.</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>Unhappy, more than some on earth,</l>
                        <l>I thought the place that gave me birth—</l>
                        <l>strange thoughts oppress'd—while I replied</l>
                        <l>" Why not in Ethiopia died?"</l>
                     </lg>
                     <pb n="164" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p164.jpg"/>
                     <lg>
                        <l>And why thus spar'd when nigh to hell?—</l>
                        <l>God only knew—I could not tell!</l>
                        <l>' A tott ring fence a bowing wall,'</l>
                        <l>' I thought myself ere since the fall.'</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>Oft times I mus'd, and nigh despair,</l>
                        <l>While birds melodious fill'd the air:</l>
                        <l>' Thrice happy songsters, ever free,'</l>
                        <l>How blest were they, compar'd to me!</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>Thus all things added to my pain,</l>
                        <l>While grief compell'd me to complain;</l>
                        <l>When sable clouds began to rise</l>
                        <l>My mind grew darker than the skies.</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>The English nation call'd to leave,</l>
                        <l>How did my breast with sorrows heave!</l>
                        <l>I long'd for rest—cried "Help me, Lord!</l>
                        <l>" some mitigation, Lord, afford!"</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>Yet on, dejected, still I went—</l>
                        <l>Heart-throbbing woes within me pent;</l>
                        <l>Nor land, nor sea, could comfort give,</l>
                        <l>Nor aught my anxious mind relieve.</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>Weary with troubles yet unknown</l>
                        <l>To all but God and self alone,</l>
                        <l>Numerous months for peace I strove,</l>
                        <l>Numerous foes I had to prove.</l>
                     </lg>
                     <pb n="165" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p165.jpg"/>
                     <lg>
                        <l>Inur'd to dangers, griefs, and woes,</l>
                        <l>Train'd up midst perils, death, and foes,</l>
                        <l>said, "Must it thus ever be?—</l>
                        <l>" No quiet is permitted me."</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>Hard hap, and more than heavy lot!</l>
                        <l>I pray'd to God "Forget me not—</l>
                        <l>" What thou ordain'st help me to bear;</l>
                        <l>" But O! deliver from despair!"</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>strivings and wrestling seem'd in vain;</l>
                        <l>Nothing I did could ease my pain:</l>
                        <l>Then gave I up my work and will,</l>
                        <l>Consess'd and own'd my doom was hell!</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>Like some poor pris'ner at the bar,</l>
                        <l>Conscious of guilt, of sin and fear,</l>
                        <l>Arraign'd, and self-condemn'd, I stood—</l>
                        <l>' Lost in the world and in my blood!'</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>Yet here, 'midst blackest clouds confin'd,</l>
                        <l>A beam from Christ, the day-star shin'd;</l>
                        <l>surely, thought I, if Jesus please,</l>
                        <l>He can at once sign my release.</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>I, ignorant of his righteousness,</l>
                        <l>set up my labours in its place;</l>
                        <l>' Forgot for why his blood was shed,</l>
                        <l>' And pray'd and fasted in its stead.'</l>
                     </lg>
                     <pb n="166" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p166.jpg"/>
                     <lg>
                        <l>He dy'd for sinners—I am one!</l>
                        <l>Might not his blood for me atone?</l>
                        <l>Tho' I am nothing else but sin,</l>
                        <l>Yet surely he can make me clean!</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>Thus light came in, and I believ'd;</l>
                        <l>Myself forgot, and help receiv'd!</l>
                        <l>My saviour then I know I found,</l>
                        <l>For, eas'd from guilt no more I groan'd.</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>O, happy hour, in which I ceas'd</l>
                        <l>To mourn, for then I found a rest!</l>
                        <l>My soul and Christ were now as one—</l>
                        <l>Thy light, O Jesus, in me shone!</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>Bless'd be thy name, for now I know</l>
                        <l>I and my works can nothing do;</l>
                        <l>"The Lord alone can ransom man—</l>
                        <l>"For this the spotless Lamb was slain!"</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>When sacrifices, works, and pray'r,</l>
                        <l>Prov'd vain, and ineffectual were,</l>
                        <l>" Lo, then I come!" the savior cry'd,</l>
                        <l>And bleeding, bow'd his head and dy'd!</l>
                     </lg>
                     <lg>
                        <l>He dy'd for all who ever saw</l>
                        <l>No help in them, nor by the law:—</l>
                        <l>I this have seen; and gladly own</l>
                        <l>"Salvation is by Christ <ref target="alone_" corresp="alone">alone*</ref>!"</l>
                     </lg>
                                    </div>
                  </body>
               </floatingText>
               <note xml:id="alone" target="alone_">* Act. iv. 12. [Equiano's Note]</note>
            </div>
            <pb n="167" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p167.jpg"/>
            <div n="11" type="chapter">
               <head>CHAP. XI.</head>
               
                  <p>
                     <hi rend="italic">The author embarks on board a ship bound for Cadiz—Is near
                        being shipwrecked—Goes to Malaga—Remarkable fine cathedral there—The author
                        disputes with a popish priest—Picking up eleven miserable men at sea in
                        returning to England—Engages again with Doctor Irving to accompany him to
                        Jamaica and the Musquito shore—Meets with an Indian prince on board—The
                        author attempts to instruct him in the truths of the Gospel—Frustrated by
                        the bad example of some in the ship—They arrive on the Musquito shore with
                        some slaves they purchased at Jamaica, and begin to cultivate a
                        plantation—some account of the manners and customs of the Musquito</hi>
                     <pb n="168" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p168.jpg"/>
                     <hi rend="italic">Indians—successful device of the author's to quell a riot
                        among them—Curious entertainment given by them to Doctor Irving and the
                        author, who leaves the shore and goes for Jamaica—Is barbarously treated by
                        a man with whom he engaged for his passage—Escapes and goes to the Musquito
                        admiral, who treats him kindly—He gets another vessel and goes on
                        board—Instances of bad treatment—Meets Doctor Irving—Gets to Jamaica—Is
                        cheated by his captain—Leaves the Doctor and goes for England.</hi>
                  </p>
               
               <p>WHEN our ship was got ready for sea again, I was intreated by the captain to go in
                  her once more; but, as I felt myself now as happy as I could with to be in this
                  life, I for some time refused; however, the advice of my friends at last
                  prevailed; and, in full resignation to the will of God, I again <pb n="169" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p169.jpg"/> embarked for Cadiz in March 1775. We
                  had a very good passage, without any material accident, until we arrived off the
                  Bay of Cadiz; when one Sunday, just as we were going into the harbour, the ship
                  struck against a rock and knocked off a garboard plank, which is the next to the
                  keel. In an instant all hands were in the greatest confusion, and began with loud
                  cries to call on God to have mercy on them. Although I could not swim, and saw no
                  way of escaping death, I felt no dread in my then situation, having no desire to
                  live. I even rejoiced in spirit, thinking this death would be sudden glory. But
                  the fulness of time was not yet come. The people near to me were much astonished
                  in seeing me thus calm and resigned; but I told them of the peace of God, which
                  through sovereign grace I enjoyed, and <pb n="170" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p170.jpg"/> these words were that instant in my
                  mind: <quote>
                     <lg>
                        <l>"Christ is my pilot wise, my compass is his word;</l>
                        <l>"My soul each storm desies, while I have such a Lord.</l>
                        <l>"I trust his faithfulness and power,</l>
                        <l>"To save me in the trying hour.</l>
                        <l>"Though rocks and quicksands deep through all my passage lie,</l>
                        <l>"Yet Christ shall safely keep and guide me with his eye,</l>
                        <l>"How can I sink with such a prop,</l>
                        <l>"That bears the world and all things up?"</l>
                     </lg>
                  </quote>
               </p>
               <p>At this time there were many large Spanish flukers or passage-vessels full of
                  people crossing the channel; who seeing our condition, a number of them came
                  alongside of us. As many hands as could be employed began to work; some at our
                  three pumps, and the rest unloading the ship as fast as possible. There being only
                  a single rock called the Porpus on which we struck, we soon got off it, and
                  providentially it was then high water, we therefore run the ship <pb n="171" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p171.jpg"/> ashore at the nearest place to keep
                  her from sinking. After many tides, with a great deal of care and industry, we got
                  her repaired again. When we had dispatched our business at Cadiz, we went to
                  Gibraltar, and from thence to Malaga, a very pleasant and rich city, where there
                  is one of the finest cathedrals I had ever seen. It had been above fifty years in
                  building, as I heard, though it was not then quite finished; great parts of the
                  inside, however, was completed and highly decorated with the richest marble
                  columns and many superb paintings; it was lighted occasionally by an amazing
                  number of wax tapers of different sizes, some of which were as thick as a man's
                  thigh; these, however, were only used on some of their grand festivals.</p>
               <p>I was very much shocked at the custom of bull-baiting, and other diversions <pb n="172" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p172.jpg"/> which prevailed here on
                  Sunday evenings, to the great scandal of Christianity and morals. I used to
                  express my <ref target="abhorrence_" corresp="abhorrence">abhorrence</ref> of it
                  to a priest whom I met with. I had frequent contests about religion with the
                  reverend father, in which he took great pains to make a proselyte of me to his
                  church; and I no less to convert him to mine. On these occasions I used to produce
                  my Bible, and shew him in what points his church erred. He then said he had been
                  in England, and that every person there read the Bible, which was very wrong; but
                  I answered him that Christ desired us to search the scriptures. In his zeal for my
                  conversion, he solicited me to go to one of the universities in Spain, and
                  declared that I should have my education free; and told me, if I got myself made a
                  priest, I might in time <pb n="173" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p173.jpg"/>
                  become even pope; and that Pope Benedict was a black man. As I was ever desirous
                  of learning, I paused for some time upon this temptation; and thought by being
                  crafty I might catch some with <ref target="guile_" corresp="guile">guile</ref>;
                  but I began to think that it would be only hypocrisy in me to embrace his offer,
                  as I could not in conscience conform to the opinions of his church. I was
                  therefore enabled to regard the word of God, which says, 'Come out from amongst them,' and refused Father Vincent's offer. so
                  we parted without conviction on either side.</p>
               <p>Having taken at this place some fine wines, fruits, and money, we proceeded to
                  Cadiz, where we took about two tons more of money, &amp;c. and then sailed for
                  England in the month of June. When we were about the north latitude 42, we had
                  contrary wind for <pb n="174" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p174.jpg"/> several
                  days, and the ship did not make in that time above six or seven miles strait
                  course. This made the captain exceeding fretful and peevish: and I was very sorry
                  to hear God's most holy name often blasphemed by him. One day, as he was in that
                     <ref target="impious_" corresp="impious">impious</ref> mood, a young gentleman
                  on board, who was a passenger, reproached him, and said he acted wrong; for we
                  ought to be thankful to God for all things, as we were not in want of any thing on
                  board; and though the wind was contrary for us, yet it was fair for some others,
                  who, perhaps, stood in more need of it than we. I immediately seconded this young
                  gentleman with some boldness, and said we had not the least cause to murmur, for
                  that the Lord was better to us than we deserved, and that he had done all things
                  well. I expected that the captain <pb n="175" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p175.jpg"/> would be very angry with me for
                  speaking, but he replied not a word. However, before that time on the following
                  day, being the 21st of June, much to our great joy and astonishment, we saw the
                  providential hand of our benign Creator, whose ways with his blind creatures are
                  past finding out. The preceding night I dreamed that I saw a boat immediately off
                  the starboard main shrouds; and exactly at half past one o'clock, the following
                  day at noon, while I was below, just as we had dined in the cabin, the man at the
                  helm cried out, A boat! which brought my dream that instant into my mind. I was
                  the first man that jumped on the deck; and looking from the shrouds onward,
                  according to my dream, I descried a little boat at some distance; but, as the
                  waves were high, it was as much as we could do sometimes to discern <pb n="176" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p176.jpg"/> her; we however stopped the ship's
                  way, and the boat, which was extremely small, came alongside with eleven miserable
                  men, whom we took on board immediately. To all human appearance, these people must
                  have perished in the course of one hour or less, the boat being small, it barely
                  contained them. When we took them up they were half drowned, and had no victuals,
                  compass, water, or any other necessary whatsoever, and had only one bit of an oar
                  to steer with, and that right before the wind; so that they were obliged to trust
                  entirely to the mercy of the waves. As soon as we got them all on board, they
                  bowed themselves on their knees, and, with hands and voices lifted up to heaven,
                  thanked God for their deliverance; and I trust that my prayers were not wanting
                  amongst them at the same <pb n="177" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p177.jpg"/>
                  time. This mercy of the Lord quite melted me, and I recollected his words, which I
                  faw thus verified in the 107th Psalm, 'O give
                     thanks unto the Lord, for he is good, for his mercy endureth for ever. Hungry
                     and thirsty, their souls fainted in them. They cried unto the Lord in their
                     trouble, and he delivered them out of their distressess. And he led them forth
                     by the right way, that they might go to a city of habitation. O that men would
                     praise the Lord for his goodness and for his wonderful works to the children of
                     men! For he satisfieth the longing soul, and silleth the hungry soul with
                     goodness. </p>      
                 <p> 'Such as sit in darkness and in the shadow of
                     death:</p>
               
               <p>
                  'Then they cried unto the Lord in their
                     trouble, and he saved them out of their distresses. They that go down <pb n="178" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p178.jpg"/> to the sea in ships; that
                     do business in great waters: these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders
                     in the deep. Whoso is wise and will observe these things, even they shall
                     understand the loving kindness of the Lord.' </p>
              
               <p>The poor distressed captain said, 'that the
                     Lord is good; for, seeing that I am not fit to die, he therefore gave me a
                     space of time to repent.' I was very glad to hear this expression, and
                  took an opportunity when convenient of talking to him on the providence of God.
                  They told us they were Portuguese, and were in a brig loaded with corn, which
                  shifted that morning at five o'clock, owing to which the vessel sunk that instant
                  with two of the crew; and how these eleven got into the boat (which was lashed to
                  the deck) not one of them could tell. <pb n="179" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p179.jpg"/> We provided them with every
                  necessary, and brought them all safe to Lon don: and I hope the Lord gave them
                  repentance unto life eternal.</p>
               <p>I was happy once more amongst my friends and brethren, till November, when my old
                  friend, the celebrated Doctor Irving, bought a remarkable fine sloop, about 150
                  tons. He had a mind for a new adventure in cultivating a plantation at Jamaica,
                  and the Musquito shore; asked me to go with him, and said that he would trust me
                  with his estate in preference to any one. By the advice, therefore, of my friends,
                  I accepted of the offer, knowing that the harvest was fully ripe in those parts,
                  and hoped to be an instrument under God, of bringing some poor sinner to my well
                  beloved master, Jesus Christ. Before I embarked, I found with the Doctor four
                  Masquito <pb n="180" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p180.jpg"/> Indians, who were
                  chiefs in their own country, and were brought here by some English traders for
                  some selfish ends. One of them was the Musquito king's son; a youth of about
                  eighteen years of age; and whilst he was here he was baptized by the name of
                  George. They were going back at the government's expense, after having been in
                  England about twelve months, during which they learned to speak pretty good
                  English. When I came to talk to them about eight days before we sailed, I was very
                  much mortified in finding that they had not frequented any churches since they
                  were here, to be baptized, nor was any attention paid to their morals. I was very
                  sorry for this mock Christianity, and had just an opportunity to take some of them
                  once to church before we sailed. We embarked in the month of November <pb n="181" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p181.jpg"/> 1776, on board of the sloop Morning
                  star, Captain David Miller, and sailed for Jamaica. In our passage, I took all the
                  pains that I could to instruct the Indian prince in the doctrines of Christianity,
                  of which he was entirely ignorant; and, to my great joy, he was quite attentive,
                  and received with gladness the truths that the Lord enabled me to set forth to
                  him. I taught him in the compass of eleven days all the letters, and he could put
                  even two or three of them together and spell them. I had Fox's Martyrology with
                  cuts, and he used to be very fond of looking into it, and would ask many questions
                  about the papal cruelties he saw depicted there, which I explained to him. I made
                  such progress with this youth, especially in religion, that when I used to go to
                  bed at different hours of the night, if he was in his bed, he would <pb n="182" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p182.jpg"/> get up on purpose to go to prayer
                  with me, without any other clothes than his shirt; and before he would eat any of
                  his meals amongst the gentlemen in the cabin, he would sirst come to me to pray as
                  he called it. I was well pleased at this, and took great delight in him, and used
                  much supplication to God for his conversion. I was in full hope of seeing daily
                  every appearance of that change which I could wish; not knowing the devices of
                  satan, who had many of his emissaries to sow his tares as fast as I sowed the good
                  seed, and pull down as fast as I built up. Thus we went on nearly four fifths of
                  our passage, when satan at last got the upper hand. some of his messengers, seeing
                  this poor heathen much advanced in piety, began to ask him whether I had converted
                  him to Christianity, laughed and made their <pb n="183" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p183.jpg"/> jest at him, for which I rebuked them
                  as much as I could; but this treatment caused the prince to halt between two
                  opinions. some of the true sons of Belial, who did not believe that there was any
                  hereafter, told him never to fear the devil, for there was none existing; and if
                  ever he came to the prince, they desired he might be sent to them. Thus they
                  teazed the poor innocent youth, so that he would not learn his book any more! He
                  would not drink nor carouse with these ungodly actors, nor would he be with me,
                  even at prayers. This grieved me very much. I endeavoured to persuade him as well
                  as I could, but he would not come; and entreated him very much to tell me his
                  reasons for acting thus. At last he asked me, <quote>'How comes it that all the white men on board who can read and write, and
                     observe the sun, <pb n="184" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p184.jpg"/> and know
                     all things, yet swear, lie, and get drunk, only excepting yourself?'</quote> I
                  answered him, the reason was, that they did not fear God; and that if any one of
                  them died so they could not go to, or be happy with God. He replied, that if these
                  persons went to hell he would go to hell too. I was sorry to hear this; and, as he
                  sometimes had the tooth-ach, and also some other persons in the ship at the same
                  time, I asked him if their tooth-ach made his easy: he said, No. Then I told him
                  if he and these people went to hell together, their pains would not make his any
                  lighter. This answer had great weight with him: it depressed his spirits much; and
                  he became ever after, during the passage, fond of being alone. When we were in the
                  latitude of Martinico, and near making the land, one morning we had a brisk gale
                     <pb n="185" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p185.jpg"/> of wind, and, carrying
                  too much sail, the main-mast went over the side. Many people were then all about
                  the deck, and the yards, masts, and rigging, came tumbling all about us, yet there
                  was not one of us in the least hurt, although some were within a hair's breadth of
                  being killed: and, particularly, I saw two men who, by the providential hand of
                  God, were most miraculously preserved from being smashed to pieces. On the fifth
                  of January we made Antigua and Montserrat, and ran along the rest of the islands:
                  and on the fourteenth we arrived at Jamaica. One sunday while we were there I took
                  the Musquito Prince George to church, where he saw the sacrament administered.
                  When we came out we saw all kinds of people, almost from the church door for the
                  space of half a mile down to the waterside, buying and selling all <pb n="186" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p186.jpg"/> kinds of commodities: and these acts
                  afforded me great matter of exhortation to this youth, who was much astonished.
                  Our vessel being ready to sail for the Musquito shore, I went with the Doctor on
                  board a Guinea-man, to purchase some slaves to carry with us, and cul tivate a
                  plantation; and I chose them all my own countrymen. On the twelfth of February we
                  sailed from Jamaica, and on the eighteenth arrived at the Musquito shore, at a
                  place called Du peupy. All our Indian guests now, after I had admonished them and
                  a few cases of liquor given them by the Doctor, took an affectionate leave of us,
                  and went ashore, where they were met by the Musquito king, and we never saw one of
                  them afterwards. We then sailed to the southward of the shore, to a place called
                  Cape Gracias a Dios, where there was a large lagoon or <pb n="187" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p187.jpg"/> lake, which received the emptying of
                  two or three very fine large rivers, and abounded much in fish and land tortoise.
                  Some of the native Indians came on board of us here; and we used them well, and
                  told them we were come to dwell amongst them, which they seemed pleased at. So the
                  Doctor and I, with some others, went with them ashore; and they took us to
                  different places to view the land, in order to choose a place to make a plantation
                  of. We fixed on a spot near a river's bank, in a rich soil; and, having got our
                  necessaries out of the sloop, we began to clear away the woods, and plant
                  different kinds of vegetables, which had a quick growth. While we were employed in
                  this manner, our vessel went northward to Black River to trade. While she was
                  there, a spanish guarda costa met with and took her. This proved very hurtful, <pb n="188" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p188.jpg"/> and a great embarrassment to
                  us. However, we went on with the culture of the land. We used to make fires every
                  night all around us, to keep off wild beasts, which, as soon as it was dark, set
                  up a most hideous roaring. Our habitation being far up in the woods, we frequently
                  saw different kinds of animals; but none of them ever hurt us, except poisonous
                  snakes, the bite of which the Doctor used to cure by giving to the patient as soon
                  as possible, about half a tumbler of strong rum, with a good deal of Cayenne
                  pepper in it. In this manner he cured two natives and one of his own slaves. The
                  Indians were exceedingly fond of the Doctor, and they had good reason for it; for
                  I believe they never had such an useful man amongst them. They came from all
                  quarters to our dwelling; and some <hi rend="italic">woolwow</hi> or flat-headed
                  Indians, who lived fifty or <pb n="189" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p189.jpg"/>
                  sixty miles above our river, and this side of the south sea, brought us a good
                  deal of silver in exchange for our goods. The principal articles we could get from
                  our neighbouring Indians, were turtle oil, and shells, little silk grass, and some
                  provisions; but they would not work at any thing for us, except fishing; and a few
                  times they assisted to cut some trees down, in order to build us houses; which
                  they did exactly like the Africans, by the joint labour of men, women, and
                  children. I do not recollect any of them to have had more than two wives. These
                  always accompanied their husbands when they came to our dwelling, and then they
                  generally carried whatever they brought to us, and always squatted down behind
                  their husbands. Whenever we gave them any thing to eat, the men and their wives
                  eat seperate. I never saw the <pb n="190" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p190.jpg"/> least sign of incontinence amongst them. The women are ornamented with beads,
                  and fond of painting themselves; the men also paint, even to excess, both their
                  faces and shirts: their favourite colour is red. The women generally cultivate the
                  ground, and the men are all fishermen and canoe makers. Upon the whole, I never
                  met any nation that were so simple in their manners as these people, or had so
                  little ornament in their houses. Neither had they, as I ever could learn, one word
                  expressive of an oath. The worst word I ever heard amongst them when they were
                  quarrelling, was one that they had got from the English, which was <quote>'you rascal.'</quote> I never saw any mode of worship among them;
                  but in this they were not worse than their European brethren or neighbours, for I
                  am sorry to say that there was not one white person in our dwelling, nor <pb n="191" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p191.jpg"/> any where else, that I saw,
                  in different places I was at on the shore, that was better or more pious than
                  those unenlightened indians; but they either worked or slept on sundays: and, to
                  my sorrow, working was too much sun day's employment with ourselves; so much so,
                  that in some length of time we really did not know one day from another. This mode
                  of living laid the foundation of my decamping at last. The natives are well made
                  and warlike; and they particularly boast of having never been conquered by the
                  spaniards. They are great drinkers of strong liquors when they can get them. We
                  used to distil rum from pineapples, which were very plentiful here; and then we
                  could not get them away from our place. Yet they seemed to be singular, in point
                  of honesty, above any other nation I was ever amongst. The <pb n="192" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p192.jpg"/> country being hot, we lived under an
                  open shed, where we had all kinds of goods, without a door or a lock to any one
                  article; yet we slept in safety, and never lost any thing, or were disturbed. This
                  surprised us a good deal; and the Doctor, myself, and others, used to say if we
                  were to lie in that manner in Europe we should have our throats cut the first
                  night. The Indian governor goes once in a certain time all about the province or
                  district, and has a number of men with him as attendants and assistants. He
                  settles all the differences among the people, like the judge here, and is treated
                  with very great respect. He took care to give us timely notice before he came to
                  our habitation, by sending his stick as a token, for rum, sugar, and gunpowder,
                  which we did not refuse sending; and at the same time we made the utmost
                  preparation to receive <pb n="193" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p193.jpg"/> his
                  honour and his train. When he came with his tribe, and all our neighbouring
                  chieftans, we expected to sind him a grave reverend judge, solid and sagacious;
                  but instead of that, before he and his gang came in sight, we heard them very
                  clamorous; and they even had plundered some of our good neighbouring Indians,
                  having intoxicated themselves with our liquor. When they arrived we did not know
                  what to make of our new guests, and would gladly have dispensed with the honour of
                  their company. However, having no alternative, we feasted them plentifully all the
                  day till the evening; when the governor, getting quite drunk, grew very unruly,
                  and struck one of our most friendly chiefs, who was our nearest neighbour, and
                  also took his gold-laced hat from him. At this a great commotion taken place; and
                  the <pb n="194" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p194.jpg"/> Doctor interfered to
                  make peace, as we could all understand one another, but to no purpose; and at last
                  they became so outrageous that the Doctor, fearing he might get into trouble, left
                  the house, and made the best of his way to the nearest wood, leaving me to do as
                  well as I could among them. I was so enraged with the Governor, that I could have
                  wished to have seen him tied fast to a tree and flogged for his behaviour; but I
                  had not people enough to cope with his party. I therefore thought of a stratagem
                  to appease the riot. Recollecting a passage I had read in the life of Columbus,
                  when he was amongst the Indians in Mexico or Peru, where on some occasion, he
                  frightened them, by telling them of certain events in the heavens, I had recourse
                  to the same expedient; and it succeeded beyond my most sanguine expectations. <pb n="195" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p195.jpg"/> When I had formed my
                  determination. I went in the midst of them; and, taking hold of the Governor, I
                  pointed up to the heavens. I menaced him and the rest: I told them God lived
                  there, and that he was angry with them, and they must not quarrel so; that they
                  were all brothers, and if they did not leave off, and go away quietly, I would
                  take the book (pointing to the Bible) read, and <hi rend="italic">tell</hi> God to
                  make them dead. This operated on them like magic.—The clamour immediately ceased,
                  and I gave them some rum and a few other things; after which they went away
                  peaceably; and the Governor afterwards gave our neighbour, who was called Captain
                  Plasmyah, his hat again. When the Doctor returned, he was exceedingly glad at my
                  success in thus getting rid of our troublesome guests. The Musquito <pb n="196" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p196.jpg"/> people within our vicinity, out of
                  respect to the Doctor, myself, and his people, made entertainments of the grand
                  kind, called in their tongue <hi rend="italic">tourrie </hi> or <hi rend="italic">dryckbot.</hi> The English of this expression is, a feast of drinking about,
                  of which it seems a corruption of language. The drink consisted of pine apples
                  roasted, and casades chewed or beaten in mortars; which, after lying some time,
                  ferments, and becomes so strong as to intoxicate, when drank in any quantity. We
                  had timely notice given to us of the entertainment. A white family, whithin five
                  miles of us, told us how the drink was made, and I and two others went before the
                  time to the village, where the mirth was appointed to be held, and there we saw
                  the whole art of making the drink, and also the kind of animals that were to be
                  eaten there. I cannot say the sight <pb n="197" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p197.jpg"/> of either the drink or the meat were
                  enticing to me. They had some thousands of pine apples roasting, which they
                  squeezed dirt and all, into a canoe they had there for the purpose. The casade
                  drink was in beef barrels, and other vessels, and looked exactly like hog-wash.
                  Men, women, and children, were thus employed in roasting the pine apples, and
                  squeezing them with their hands. For sood they had many land torpins or tortoises,
                  some dried turtle, and three large alligators alive, and tied fast to the trees. I
                  asked the people what they were going to do with these alligators; and I was told
                  they were to be eaten. I was much surprised at this, and went home, not a little
                  disgusted at the preparations. When the day of the feast was come, we took some
                  rum with us, and went to the appointed place, where we found a great <pb n="198" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p198.jpg"/> assemblage of these people, who
                  received us very kindly. The mirth had begun before we came; and they were dancing
                  with music: and the musical instruments were nearly the same as those of any other
                  sable people; but, as I thought much less melodious than any other nation I ever
                  knew. They had many curious gestures in dancing, and a variety of motions and
                  postures of their bodies, which to me were in no wise attracting. The males danced
                  by themselves, and the females also by themselves, as with us. The Doctor shewed
                  his people the example, by immediately joining the women's party, though not by
                  their choice. On perceiving the women disgusted, he joined the males. At night
                  there were great illuminations, by setting fire to many pine trees, while the
                  dryckbot went round merrily by calabashes or gourds: but the liquor might more
                  justly be <pb n="199" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p199.jpg"/> called eating than
                  drinking. One Owden, the oldest father in the vicinity, was dressed in a strange
                  and terrifying form. Around his body were skins adorned with different kinds of
                  feathers, and he had on his head a very large and high head-piece, in the form of
                  a grenadier's cap, with prickles like a porcupine: and he made a certain noise
                  which resembled the cry of an alligator. Our people skipped amongst them out of
                  complaisance, though some could not drink of their tourrie; but our rum met with
                  customers enough, and was soon gone. The alligators were killed and some of them
                  roasted. Their manner of roasting is by digging a hole in the earth, and filling
                  it with wood, which they burn to coal, and then they lay sticks across, on which
                  they set the meat. I had a raw piece of the alligator in my hand: it was very
                  rich: I thought it looked like fresh salmon, and it had a <pb n="200" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p200.jpg"/> most fragrant smell, but I could not
                  eat any of it. This merry-making at last ended without the least discord in any
                  person in the company, although it was made up of different nations and
                  complexions.</p>
               <p>The rainy season came on here about the latter end of May, which continued till
                  August very heavily; so that the rivers were overflowed, and our provisions then
                  in the ground were washed away. I thought this was in some measure a judgment upon
                  us for working on sundays, and it hurt my mind very much. I often wished to leave
                  this place and sail for Europe; for our mode of procedure and living in this
                  heathenish form was very irksome to me. The word of God saith, <quote>'What does it avail a man if he gain the whole
                     world, and lose his own soul?'</quote> This was much and heavily impressed on
                  my mind; and though <pb n="201" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p201.jpg"/> I did
                  not know how to speak to the Doctor for my discharge, it was disagreeable for me
                  to stay any longer. But about the middle of June I took courage enough to ask him
                  for it. He was very unwilling at first to grant my request; but I gave him so many
                  reasons for it, that at last he consented to my going, and gave me the following
                  certificate of my behaviour:</p>
               <floatingText>
                  <body>
                     <p>The bearer, Gustavus Vassa, has served me several years with strict honesty,
                        sobriety, and fidelity. I can, therefore with justice recommend him for
                        these qualifications; and indeed in every respect I consider him as an excellent servant. I do hereby certify that he always behaved well, and that
                        he is perfectly trust-worthy.</p>
                     <closer>
                        <signed>CHARLES IRVING.</signed>
                        <placeName>
                           <hi rend="italic">Musquito shore,</hi>
                          
                              <hi rend="italic">June</hi> 15, 1776.
                        </placeName>
                     </closer>
                  </body>
               </floatingText>
               <p>
                  <pb n="202" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p202.jpg"/> Though I was much attached
                  to the Doctor, I was happy when he consented. I got every thing ready for my
                  departure, and hired some Indians, with a large canoe, to carry me off. All my
                  poor countrymen, the slaves, when they heard of my leaving them, were very sorry,
                  as I had always treated them with care and affection, and did every thing I could
                  to comfort the poor creatures, and render their condition easy. Having taken leave
                  of my old friends and companions, on the 18th of June, accompanied by the Doctor,
                  I left that spot of the world, and went southward above twenty miles along the
                  river. There I found a sloop, the captain of which told me he was going to
                  Jamaica. Having agreed for my passage with him and one of the owners, who was also
                  on board, named Hughes, the Doctor and I parted, not without shedding <pb n="203" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p203.jpg"/> tears on both sides. The vessel then
                  sailed along the river till night, when she stopped in a lagoon within the same
                  river. During the night a schooner belonging to the same owners came in, and, as
                  she was in want of hands, Hughes, the owner of the sloop asked me to go in the
                  schooner as a sailor, and said he would give me wages. I thanked him; but I said I
                  wanted to go to Jamaica. He then immediately changed his tone, and swore, and
                  abused me very much, and asked how I came to be freed. I told him, and said that I
                  came into that vicinity with Dr. Irving; whom he had seen that day. This account
                  was of no use; he still swore exceedingly at me, and cursed the master for a fool
                  that sold me my freedom, and the doctor for another in letting me go from him.
                  Then he desired me to go in the schooner, or else I should <pb n="204" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p204.jpg"/> not go out of the sloop as a
                  free-man. I said this was very hard, and begged to be put on shore again; but he
                  swore that I should not. I said I had been twice amongst the Turks, yet had never
                  seen any such usage with them, and much less could I have expected any thing of
                  this kind among the Christians. This incensed him exceedingly; and, with a volley
                  of oaths and imprecations, he replied, <quote>
                     'Christians! damn you, you are one of st. Paul's men; but by G—, except you
                     have st. Paul's or st. Peter's faith, and walk upon the water to the shore, you
                     shall not go out of the vessel;'</quote> which I now learnt was going amongst
                  the spaniards towards Carthagena, where he swore he would sell me. I simply asked
                  him what right he had to sell me? but, without another word, he made some of his
                  people tie ropes round each of <pb n="205" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p205.jpg"/> my ancles, and also to each wrist, and another rope round my body, and hoisted
                  me up without letting my feet touch or rest upon any thing. Thus I hung, without
                  any crime committed, and without judge or jury; merely because I was a free man,
                  and could not by the law get any redress from a white person in those parts of the
                  world. I was in great pain from my situation, and cried and begged very hard for
                  some mercy; but all in vain. My tyrant, in a great rage brought a musquet out of
                  the cabin and loaded it before me and the crew, and swore that he would shoot me
                  if I cried any more. I had now no alternative; I therefore remained silent, seeing
                  not one white man on board who said a word on my behalf. I hung in that manner
                  from between ten and eleven o'clock at night till about one in the morning; <pb n="206" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p206.jpg"/> when, finding my cruel abuser
                  fast asleep, I begged some of his slaves to slack the rope that was round my body,
                  that my feet might rest on something. This they did at the risk of being cruelly
                  used by their master, who beat some of them severely at first for not tying me
                  when he commanded them. Whilst I remained in this condition, till between five and
                  six o'clock next morning, I trust I prayed to God to forgive this blasphemer, who
                  cared not what he did, but when he got up out of his sleep in the morning was of
                  the very same temper and disposition as when he left me at night. When they got up
                  the anchor, and the vessel was getting under way, I once more cried and begged to
                  be released; and now, being fortunately in the way of their hoisting the sails,
                  they released me. When I was let down, I spoke to one Mr. Cox, <pb n="207" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p207.jpg"/> a carpenter, whom I knew on board, on
                  the impropriety of this conduct. He also knew the doctor, and the good opinion he
                  ever had of me. This man then went to the captain, and told him not to carry me
                  away in that manner? that I was the doctor's steward, who regarded me very highly,
                  and would resent this usage when he should come to know it. On which he desired a
                  young man to put me ashore in a small canoe I brought with me. This sound
                  gladdened my heart, and I got hastily into the canoe and set off, whilst my tyrant
                  was down in the cabin; but he soon spied me out, when I was not above thirty or
                  forty yards from the vessel, and running upon the deck with a loaded musket in his
                  hand, he presented it at me, and swore heavily and dreadfully, that he would shoot
                  me that instant, if I did not come back on <pb n="208" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p208.jpg"/> board. As I knew the wretch would
                  have done as he said, without hesitation, I put back to the vessel again; but, as
                  the good Lord would have it, just as I was alongside he was abusing the captain
                  for letting me go from the vessel; which the captain returned, and both of them
                  soon got into a very great heat. The young man that was with me now got out of the
                  canoe; the vessel was sailing on fast with a smooth sea: and I then thought it was
                  neck or no thing, so at that instant I set off again, for my life, in the canoe,
                  towards the shore; and fortunately the confusion was so great amongst them on
                  board, that I got out of the reach of the musket shot unnoticed, while the vessel
                  sailed on with a fair wind a different way; so that they could not overtake me
                  without tacking: but even before that could be done I should have been <pb n="209" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p209.jpg"/> on shore, which I soon reached, with
                  many thanks to God for this unexpected deliverance. I then went and told the other
                  owner, who lived near that shore (with whom I had agreed for my passage) of the
                  usage I had met with. He was very much astonished and appeared very sorry for it.
                  After treating me with kindness, he gave me some refreshment, and three heads of
                  roasted Indian corn, for a voyage of about eighteen miles south, to look for
                  another vessel. He then directed me to an Indian chief of a district, who was also
                  the Musquito admiral, and had once been at our dwelling; after which I set off
                  with the canoe across a large lagoon alone (for I could not get any one to assist
                  me), though I was much jaded, and had pains in my bowels, by means of the rope I
                  had hung by the night before. I was therefore at different <pb n="210" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p210.jpg"/> times unable to manage the canoe, for
                  the paddling was very laborious. However, a little before dark I got to my
                  destined place, where some of the Indians knew me, and received me kindly. I asked
                  for the admiral; and they conducted me to his dwelling. He was glad to see me, and
                  refreshed me with such things as the place afforded; and I had a hammock to fleep
                  in. They acted towards me more like Christians than those whites I was amongst the
                  last night, though they had been baptised. I told the admiral I wanted to go to
                  the next port to get a vessel to carry me to Jamaica; and requested him to send
                  the canoe back which I then had, for which I was to pay him. He agreed with me,
                  and sent five able Indians with a large canoe to carry my things to my intended
                  place, about fifty miles; and we set off <pb n="211" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p211.jpg"/> the next morning. When we got out of
                  the lagoon and went along shore, the sea was so high that the canoe was oftentimes
                  very near being filled with water. We were obliged to go ashore and drag across
                  different necks of land; we were also two nights in the swamps, which swarmed with
                  musquito flies, and they proved troublesome to us. This tiresome journey of land
                  and water ended, however, on the third day, to my great joy; and I got on board of
                  a sloop commanded by one Captain Jenning. she was then partly loaded, and he told
                  me he was expecting daily to sail for Jamaica; and having agreed with me to work
                  my passage, I went to work accordingly. I was not many days on board before we
                  sailed; but to my sorrow and disappointment, though used to such tricks, we went
                  to the southward along the Musquito shore, <pb n="212" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p212.jpg"/> instead of steering for Jamaica. I
                  was compelled to assist in cutting a great deal of mahogany wood on the shore as
                  we coasted along it, and load the vessel with it, before she sailed. This fretted
                  me much; but, as I did not know how to help myself among these deceivers, I
                  thought patience was the only remedy I had left, and even that was forced. There
                  was much hard work and little victuals on board, except by good luck we happened
                  to catch turtles. On this coast there was also a particular kind of fish called
                  manatee, which is most excellent eating, and the flesh is more like beef than
                  fish; the scales are as large as a shilling, and the skin thicker than I ever saw
                  that of any other fish. Within the brackish waters along shore there were likewise
                  vast numbers of alligators, which made the fish scarce. I was on board this sloop
                  sixteen days, <pb n="213" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p213.jpg"/> during which,
                  in our coasting, we came to another place, where there was a smaller sloop called
                  the Indian Queen, commanded by one John Baker. He also was an Englishman, and had
                  been a long time along the shore trading for turtle shells and silver, and had got
                  a good quantity of each on board. He wanted some hands very much; and,
                  understanding I was a freeman, and wanted to go to Jamaica, he told me if he could
                  get one or two, that he would sail immediately for that Island: he also pretended
                  to shew me some marks of at tention and respect, and promised to give me
                  forty-five shillings sterling a a month if I would go with him. I thought this
                  much better than cutting wood for nothing. I therefore told the other captain that
                  I wanted to go to Jamaica in the other vessel; but he would not listen to me; and,
                  seeing me resolved <pb n="214" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p214.jpg"/> to go in
                  a day or two, he got the vessel to sail, intending to carry me away against my
                  will. This treatment mortified me extremely. I
                  immediately, according to an agreement I had made with the captain of the Indian
                  Queen, called for her boat, which was lying near us, and it came alongside; and,
                  by the means of a north-pole shipmate which I met with in the sloop I was in, I
                  got my things into the boat, and went on board of the Indian Queen, July the 10th.
                  A few days after I was there, we got all things ready and sailed: but again, to my
                  great mortification, this vessel still went to the south, nearly as far as
                  Carthagena, trading along the coast, instead of going to Jamaica, as the captain
                  had promised me: and, what was worst of all, he was a very cruel and bloody-minded
                  man, and was a horrid blasphemer. Among others, <pb n="215" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p215.jpg"/> he had a white pilot, one stoker,
                  whom he beat often as severely as he did some negroes he had on board. One night
                  in particular, after he had beaten this man most cruelly, he put him into the
                  boat, and made two negroes row him to a desolate key, or small island; and he
                  loaded two pistols, and swore bitterly that he would shoot the negroes if they
                  brought stoker on board again. There was not the least doubt but that he would do
                  as he said, and the two poor fellows were obliged to obey the cruel mandate; but,
                  when the captain was asleep, the two negroes took a blanket and carried it to the
                  unfortunate stoker, which I believe was the means of saving his life from the
                  annoyance of insects. A great deal of entreaty was used with the captain the next
                  day, before he would consent to let stoker come on board; and when <pb n="216" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p216.jpg"/> the poor man was brought on board he
                  was very ill, from his situation during the night, and he remained so till he was
                  drowned a little time after. As we sailed southward we came to many uninhabited
                  islands, which were overgrown with fine large cocoa nuts. As I was very much in
                  want of provisions, I brought a boat load of them on board, which lasted me and
                  others for several weeks, and afforded us many a delicious repast in our scarcity.
                  One day, before this, I could not help ob serving the providential hand of God,
                  that ever supplied all our wants, though in the ways and manner we know not. I had
                  been a whole day without food, and made signals for boats to come off, but in
                  vain. I therefore earnestly prayed to God for relief in my need; and at the close
                  of the evening I went off the deck. Just as I laid down I heard a <pb n="217" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p217.jpg"/> noise on the deck; and, not knowing
                  what it meant, I went directly on the deck again, when what should I see but a
                  fine large fish about seven or eight pounds, which had jumped aboard! I took it,
                  and admired, with thanks, the good hand of God; and, what I considered as not
                  less extraordinary, the captain, who was very avaricious, did not attempt to take
                  it from me, there being only him and I on board; for the rest were all gone ashore
                  trading. Sometimes the people did not come off for some days: this used to fret
                  the captain, and then he would vent his fury on me by beating me, or making me
                  feel in other cruel ways. One day especially, in his wild, wicked, and mad career,
                  after striking me several times with different things, and once across my mouth,
                  even with a red burning stick out of the fire, he got a barrel of <pb n="218" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p218.jpg"/> gunpowder on the deck, and swore that
                  he would blow up the vessel. I was then at my wit's end, and earnestly prayed to
                  God to direct me. The head was out of the barrel; and the captain took a lighted
                  stick out of the fire to blow himself and me up, because there was a vessel then
                  in sight coming in, which he supposed was a Spaniard, and he was afraid of falling
                  into their hands. Seeing this I got an axe, unnoticed by him, and placed myself
                  between him and the powder, having resolved in myself as soon as he attempted to
                  put the fire in the barrel to chop him down that instant. I was more than an hour
                  in this situation; during which he struck me often, still keeping the fire in his
                  hand for this wicked purpose. I really should have thought myself justifiable in
                  any other part of the world if I had killed him, <pb n="219" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p219.jpg"/> and prayed to God, who gave me a mind
                  which rested solely on himself. I prayed for resignation, that his will might be
                  done: and the following two portions of his holy word, which oc cured to my mind,
                  buoyed up my hope, and kept me from taking the life of this wicked man. <quote>'He hath determined the times before appointed, and
                     set bounds to our habitations,'</quote> Acts xvii. 26. And, <quote>'Who is there among you that feareth the Lord, that
                     obeyeth the voice of his servant, that walketh in darkness and hath no light?
                     let him trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God,'</quote> Isaiah
                  l. 20. And thus by the grace of God I was enabled to do. I found him a present
                  help in the time of need, and the captain's fury began to sub side as the night
                  approached: but I found,<quote>
                     <pb n="220" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p220.jpg"/>
                     <lg>
                        <l>" That he who cannot stem his anger's tide</l>
                        <l>" Doth a wild horse without a bridle ride."</l>
                     </lg>
                  </quote>
               </p>
               <p>The next morning we discovered that the vessel which had caused such a fury in the
                  captain was an English sloop. They soon came to an anchor where we were, and, to
                  my no small surprise, learned that Doctor Irving was on board of her on his way
                  from the Musquito shore to Jamaica. I was for going immediately to see this old
                  master and friend, but the captain would not suffe me to leave the vessel. I then
                  informe the Doctor, by letter, how I was treated and begged that he would take me
                  out of the sloop: but he informed me that it was not in his power, as he was a
                  passenger himself; but he sent me some rum and sugar for my own use. I now learned
                  that after I had left the estate which I managed for this gentleman <pb n="221" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p221.jpg"/> on the Musquito shore, during which
                  the slaves were well fed and comfortable, a white overseer had supplied my place:
                  this man through inhumanity and ill-judged avarice, beat and cut the poor slaves
                  most unmercifully; and the consequence was, that every one got into a large
                  Puriogua canoe, and endeavoured to escape; but not knowing where to go, or how to
                  manage the canoe, they were all drowned; in consequence of which the Doctor's
                  plantation was left uncultivated, and he was now returning to Jamaica to purchase
                  more slaves, and stock it again.</p>
               <p>On the 14th of October, the Indian Queen arrived at Kingston in Jamaica. When we
                  were unloaded I demanded my wages, which amounted to eight pounds five shillings
                  sterling; but Captain Baker refused to give me one farthing, although it was the
                  hardest earned <pb n="222" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p222.jpg"/> money I ever
                  worked for in my life. I found out Doctor Irving upon this, and acquainted him of
                  the captain's knavery. He did all he could to help me to get my money; and we
                  went to every magistrate in Kingston (and there were nine) but they all refused to
                  do any thing for me, and said my oath could not be admitted against a white man.
                  Nor was this all; for Baker threatened that he would beat me severely if he could
                  catch me for attempting to demand my money; and this he would have done, but that
                  I got, by means of Doctor Irving, under the protection of Captain Douglas, of the
                  squirrel man of war. I thought this exceeding hard usage; though indeed I found it
                  to be too much the practice there to pay free negro men for their labour in this
                  manner.</p>
               <p>One day I went with a free negroe taylor, named Joe Diamond, to one <pb n="223" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p223.jpg"/> Mr. Cochran, who was indebted to him
                  some trifling sum; and the man, not being able to get his money, began to murmur.
                  The other immediately took a horse-whip to pay him with it, but, by the help of a
                  good pair of heels, the taylor got off. Such oppressions as these made me seek for
                  a vessel to get off the island as fast as I could: and by the mercy of God, I
                  found a ship in November bound for England, when I embarked with a convoy, after
                  having taken a last farewell of Doctor Irving. When I left Jamaica he was employed
                  in refining sugars; and some months after my arrival in England I learned, with
                  much sorrow, that this my amiable friend was dead, owing to his having eaten some
                  poisoned fish.</p>
               <p>We had many very heavy gales of wind in our passage; in the course of <pb n="224" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p224.jpg"/> which no material incident occurred,
                  except that an American privateer, falling in with the fleet, was captured and set
                  sire to by his Majesty's ship the squirrel.</p>
               <p>On January the seventh, 1777, we arrived at Plymouth. I was happy once more to
                  tread upon English ground; and, after passing some little time at Plymouth and
                  Exeter, among some pious friends, whom I was happy to see, I went to London with a
                  heart replete with thanks to God for past mercies.</p>
            </div>
            <div n="12" type="chapter">
               <pb n="225" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p225.jpg"/>
               <head>CHAP. XII.</head>
               
                  <p>
                     <hi rend="italic">Different transactions of the author's life till the present
                        time—His application to the late Bishop of London to be appointed a
                        missionary to Africa—some account of his share in the conduct of the late
                        expedition to Sierra Leone—Petition to the Queen—Conclusion.</hi>
                  </p>
               
               <p>SUCH were the various scenes which I was a witness to, and the fortune I
                  experienced until the year 1777. Since that period, my life has been more uniform,
                  and the incidents of it fewer, than in any other equal number of years preceding;
                  I therefore hasten to the conclusion of a narrative, which I <pb n="226" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p226.jpg"/> fear the reader may think already
                  sufficiently tedious.</p>
               <p>I had suffered so many impositions in my commercial transactions in different
                  parts of the world, that I became heartily disgusted with the seafaring life, and
                  was determined not to return to it, at least for some time. I therefore once more
                  engaged in service shortly after my return, and continued for the most part in
                  this situation until 1784.</p>
               <p>Soon after my arrival in London, I saw a remarkable circumstance relative to
                  African complexion, which I thought so extraordinary, that I beg leave just to
                  mention it: A white negro woman, that I had formerly seen in London and other
                  parts, had married a white man, by whom she had three boys, and they were every
                  one mullattoes, and yet they had fine light hair. In 1779, <pb n="227" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p227.jpg"/> I served Governor Macnamara, who had
                  been a considerable time on the coast of Africa. In the time of my service, I used
                  to ask frequently other servants to join me in family prayer; but this only
                  excited their mockery. However, the Governor, understanding that I was of a
                  religious turn, wished to know what religion I was of; I told him I was a
                  Protestant of the Church of England, agreeable to the thirty nine articles of that
                  church; and that whomsoever I found to preach according to that doctrine, those I
                  would hear. A few days after this, we had some more discourse on the same subject;
                  when he said he would, if I chose, as he thought I might be of service in
                  converting my countrymen to the Gospel faith, get me sent out as missionary to
                  Africa. I at first refused going, and told him how I had been served on a like
                  occasion <pb n="228" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p228.jpg"/> by some white
                  people the last voyage I went to Jamaica, when I attempted (if it were the will of
                  God) to be the means of converting the Indian prince; and said I supposed they
                  would serve me worse than Alexander the coppersmith did St. Paul, if I should
                  attempt to go amongst them in Africa. He told me not to fear, for he would apply
                  to the Bishop of London to get me ordained. On these terms I consented to the
                  Governor's proposal to go to Africa in hope of doing good, if possible, amongst my
                  countrymen; so, in order to have me sent out properly, we immediately wrote the
                  following letters to the late Bishop of London:</p>
               <floatingText>
                  <body>
                     <pb n="229" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p229.jpg"/>
                     <opener>
                        <hi rend="italic">To the Right Reverend Father in God,</hi> ROBERT, <hi rend="italic">Lord Bishop of London:</hi>
                     </opener>
                     <opener>The MEMORIAL of Gustavus Vassa</opener>
                     <opener>SHEWETH,</opener>
                     <p>THAT your memorialist is a native of Africa, and has a knowledge of the
                        manners and customs of the inhabitants of that country.</p>
                     <p>That your memorialist has resided in different parts of Europe for
                        twenty-two years last past, and embraced the Christian faith in the year
                        1759.</p>
                     <p>That your memorialist is desirous of returning to Africa as a missionary, if
                        encouraged by your Lordship, in hopes of being able to prevail upon his
                        countrymen to become Christians; and your memorialist is the more induced to
                        undertake the same, from the success that has attended the like undertakings
                        when encouraged by the Portugeuse <pb n="230" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p230.jpg"/> through their different
                        settlements on the coast of Africa, and also by the Dutch: both governments
                        encouraging the blacks, who, by their education are qualified to undertake
                        the same, and are found more proper than European clergymen, unacquainted
                        with the language and customs of the country.</p>
                     <p>Your memorialist's only motive for soliciting the office of a missionary is,
                        that he may be a means, under God, of reforming his countrymen and
                        persuading them to embrace the Christian religion. Therefore your
                        memorialist humbly prays your Lordship's encouragement and support in the
                        undertaking.</p>
                     <closer>
                        <signed>Gustavus Vassa.</signed>
                        <placeName>At Mr. Guthrie's, Taylor, No. 17, Hedge-lane.</placeName>
                     </closer>
                  </body>
               </floatingText>
               <floatingText>
                  <body>
                     <pb n="231" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p231.jpg"/>
                     <opener>
                        <salute>MY LORD,</salute>
                     </opener>
                     <p>I have resided near seven years on the coast of Africa, for most part of the
                        time as commanding officer. From the knowledge I have of the country and its
                        inhabitants, I am inclined to think that the within plan will be attended
                        with great success, if countenanced by your Lordship. I beg leave further to
                        represent to your Lordship, that the like attempts, when encouraged by other
                        governments, have met with uncommon success; and at this very time I know a
                        very respectable character a black priest at Cape Coast Castle. I know the
                        within named Gustavus Vassa, and believe him a moral good man.</p>
                     <closer>
                        <signed>I have the honour to be, My Lord, Your Lordship's Humble and
                           obedient servant, MATT. MACNAMARA.</signed>
                        <placeName>Grove, 11th March 1779.
                        </placeName>
                     </closer>
                  </body>
               </floatingText>
               <p>
                  <pb n="232" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p232.jpg"/> This letter was also
                  accompanied by the following from Doctor Wallace, who had resided in Africa for
                  many years, and whose sentiments on the subject of an African mission were the
                  same with Governor Macnamara's.</p>
               <floatingText>
                  <body>
                     <opener>
                        <dateline>
                          March 13, 1779.
                        </dateline>
                        <salute>MY LORD,</salute>
                     </opener>
                     <p>I have resided near five years on Senegambia on the coast of Africa, and
                        have had the honour of silling very considerable employments in that
                        province. I do approve of the within plan, and think the undertaking very
                        laudable and proper, and that it deserves your Lordship's protection and
                        encouragement, in which case it must be attended with the intended
                        success.</p>
                     <closer>
                        <signed>I am, my Lord, Your Lordships Humble and obedient servant, THOMAS
                           WALLACE.</signed>
                     </closer>
                  </body>
               </floatingText>
               <p>
                  <pb n="233" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p233.jpg"/> With these letters, I waited
                  on the Bishop by the Governor's desire, and presented them to his Lordship. He
                  received me with much condescension and politeness; but, from some certain
                  scruples of delicacy, and saying the Bishops were not of opinion of sending a new
                  missionary to Africa, he declined to ordain me.</p>
               <p>My sole motive for thus dwelling on this transaction, or inserting these papers,
                  is the opinion which gentlemen of sense and education, who are acquainted with
                  Africa, entertain of the probability of converting the inhabitants of it to the
                  faith of Jesus Christ, if the attempt were countenanced by the legislature.</p>
               <p>shortly after this I left the Governor, and served a nobleman in the Dorsetshire
                  militia, whith whom I was encamped at Coxheath for some time; <pb n="234" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p234.jpg"/> but the operations there were too
                  minute and uninteresting to make a detail of.</p>
               <p>In the year 1783, I visited eight counties in Wales, from motives of curiosity.
                  While I was in that part of the country I was led to go down into a coal-pit in
                  Shropshire, but my curiosity nearly cost me my life; for while I was in the pit
                  the coals fell in, and buried one poor man, who was not far from me: upon this I
                  got out as fast as I could, thinking the surface of the earth the safest part of
                  it.</p>
               <p>In the spring of 1784, I thought of visiting old ocean again. In consequence of
                  this I embarked as steward on board a fine new ship called the London, commanded
                  by Martin Hopkin, and sailed for New-York. I admired this city very much; it is
                  large and well-built, and abounds with provisions <pb n="235" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p235.jpg"/> of all kinds. While we lay here a
                  circumstance happened which I thought extremely singular:—One day a malefactor was
                  to be executed on a gallows; but with a condition that if any woman, having
                  nothing on but her shift, married the man under the gallows, his life was to be
                  saved. This extraordinary privilege was claimed; a woman presented herself; and
                  the marriage ceremony was performed.</p>
               <p>Our ship having got laden were turned to London in January 1785. When she was
                  ready again for another voyage, the captain being an agreeable man, I sailed with
                  him from hence in the spring, March 1785, for Philadelphia. On the 5th of April,
                  we took our departure from the land's-end, with a pleasant gale; and about nine
                  o'clock that night the moon shone bright, and the sea was smooth, while our ship
                     <pb n="236" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p236.jpg"/> was going free by the
                  wind, at the rate of about four or five miles an hour.—At this time another ship
                  was going nearly as fast as we on the opposite point, meeting us right in the
                  teeth, yet none on board observed either ship until we struck each other forcibly
                  head and head, to the astonishment and consternation of both crews. She did us
                  much damage, but I believe we did her more; for when we passed by each other,
                  which we did very quickly, they called to us to bring to, and hoist out our boat,
                  but we had enough to do to mind ourselves; and in about eight minutes we saw no
                  more of her. We refitted as well as we could the next day, and proceeded on our
                  voyage, and in May arrived at Philadelphia.</p>
               <p>I was very glad to see this favorite old town once more; and my pleasure was much
                  increased in seeing the worthy <pb n="237" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p237.jpg"/> Quakers freeing and easing the burthens of many of my oppressed African
                  brethren. It rejoiced my heart when one of these friendly people took me to see a
                  free-school they had erected for every denomination of black people, whose minds
                  are cultivated here, and forwarded to virtue; and thus they are made useful
                  members of the community. Does not the success of this practice say loudly to the
                  planters, in the language of scripture—<quote>"Go ye and
                     do likewise!"</quote>
               </p>
               <p>In October 1585, I was accompanied by some of the Africans, and presented this
                  address of thanks to the gentlemen called Friends or Quakers, in
                  Gracechurch-Court, Lombard-street:</p>
               <p>GENTLEMEN,</p>
               <p>By reading your book, entitled a Caution to Great Britain and <pb n="238" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p238.jpg"/> her Colonies, concerning the
                  Calamitous state of the enslaved Negroes: We part of the poor, oppressed, needy,
                  and much degraded negroes, desire to approach you with this address of thanks,
                  with our inmost love and warmest acknowledgment; and with the deepest sense of
                  your benevolence, unwearied labour, and kind interposition, towards breaking the
                  yoke of slavery, and to administer a little comfort and ease to thousands and tens
                  of thousands of very grievously afflicted, and too heavy burthened negroes.</p>
               <p>Gentlemen, could you, by perseverance, at last be enabled under God, to lighten in
                  any degree the heavy burthen of the afflicted, no doubt it would in some measure,
                  be the possible means, under God, of saving the souls of many of the oppressors;
                  and if so, sure we are that the God, whose eyes are ever upon <pb n="239" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p239.jpg"/> all his creatures, and always rewards
                  every true act of virtue, and regards the prayers of the oppressed, will give to
                  you and yours those blessings which it is not in our power to express or conceive,
                  but which we as a part of those captivated, oppressed, and afflicted people, most
                  earnestly wish and pray for.</p>
               <p>These gentlemen received us very kindly, with a promise to exert themselves on
                  behalf of the oppressed Africans, and we parted.</p>
               <p>While in town, I chanced once to be invited to a Quaker's wedding. The simple and
                  yet expressive mode used at their solemnizations is worthy of note. The following
                  is the true form of it:</p>
               <p>After the company have met, they have seasonable exhortations by several of the
                  members; the bride and bridegroom stand up, and, taking each other <pb n="240" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p240.jpg"/> by the hand in a solemn manner,the
                  man declares to this purpose:</p>
               <p>
                  "Friends, in the fear of the Lord, and in the presence of
                     this assembly, whom I desire to be my witnesses, I take this my friend, M. N.
                     to be my wife; promising, through divine assistance, to be unto her a loving
                     and faithful husband till death separate us:" and the woman makes the
                  like declaration. Then the two first sign their names to the record, and as many
                  more witnesses as have a mind. I had the honour to subscribe mine to a register in
                  Gracechurch-Court, Lombard-street.—My hand is ever free—if any female Debonair
                  wishes to obtain it, this mode I recommend.</p>
               <p>We returned to London in August; and our ship not going immediately to sea, I
                  shipped as a steward in an American ship called the Harmony, Captain <pb n="241" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p241.jpg"/> John Willet, and left London in March
                  1786, bound to Philadelphia. Eleven days after sailing, we carried our foremast
                  away. We had a nine weeks passage, which caused our trip not to succeed well, the
                  market for our goods proving bad; and to make it worse, my commander began to play
                  me the like tricks as others too often practise on free negroes in the West
                  Indies. But I thank God I found many friends here, who in some measure prevented
                  him. On my return to London in August, I was very agreeably surprised to find that
                  the benevolence of government had adopted the plan of some philanthropic
                  individuals to send the Africans from hence to their native quarter; and that some
                  vessels were then engaged to carry them to sierra Leona; an act which redounded to
                  the honour of all concerned in its promotion, <pb n="242" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p242.jpg"/> and filled me with prayers and much
                  rejoicing. There was then in the city, a select committee of gentlemen for the
                  black poor, to some of whom I had the honour of being known; and, as soon as they
                  heard of my arrival, they sent for me to the committee. When I came there, they
                  informed me of the intention of government; and as they seemed to think me
                  qualified to superintend part of the undertaking, they asked me to go with the
                  black poor to Africa. I pointed out to them many objections to my going; and
                  particularly I expressed some difficulties on the account of the slave dealers, as
                  I would certainly oppose their traffic in the human species by every means in my
                  power. However these objections were over-ruled by the gentlemen of the committee,
                  who prevailed on me to consent to go; and recommended me to the honourable <pb n="243" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p243.jpg"/> Commissioners of his
                  Majesty's Navy, as a proper person to act as commissary for government in the
                  intended expedition; and they accordingly appointed me in November 1786, to that
                  office, and gave me sufficient power to act for the government in the capacity of
                  commissary, having received my warrant and the following order.</p>
                  <floatingText>
                     <body>

                        <opener>By the principal Officers and Commissioners of his Majesty's
                           Navy.</opener>
                        <p>WHEREAS you were directed, by our warrant of the 4th of last month, to
                           receive into your charge from Mr. Joseph Irwin, the surplus provisions
                           remaining of what was provided for the voyage, as well as the provisions
                           for the support of the black poor, after the landing at Sierra Leone,
                           with the cloathing, tools, and all other articles <pb n="244" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p244.jpg"/> provided at government's
                           expence; and as the provisions were laid in at the rate of two months for
                           the voyage, and for four months afrer the landing, but the number
                           embarked being so much less than we expected, whereby there may be a
                           considerable surplus of provisions, cloathing, &amp;c. These are, in
                           addition to former orders, to direct and require you to appropriate or
                           dispose of such surplus to the best advantage you can for the benefit of
                           government, keeping and rendering to us a faithful account of what you do
                           herein. And for your guidance in preventing any white persons going, who
                           are not intended to have the indulgence of being carried thither, we send
                           you herewith a list of those recommended by the Committee for the balck
                           poor, as proper persons to be permitted to embark, and acquaint you that
                           you are not to suffer <pb n="245" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p245.jpg"/> any others to go who do not produce a certificate from the committee
                           for the black poor, of their having their permission for it. For which
                           this shall be your warrant. Dated at the Navy-Office, January 16,
                           1787.</p>
                        <closer>
                           <signed>
                              <lb/>
                              <persName>J.HINSLOW,</persName>
                              <lb/>
                              <persName>GEO. MARSH,</persName>
                              <lb/>
                              <persName>W. PALMER.</persName>
                              <lb/>
                           </signed>
                           <salute>To Mr. Gustavus Vassa, Commissary of Provisions and stores for
                              the Black Poor going to sierra Leona.</salute>
                        </closer>

                     </body>
                  </floatingText>
               <p>I proceeded immediately to the executing of my duty on board the vessels destined
                  for the voyage, where I continued till the March following.</p>
               <p>During my continuanee in the employment of government, I was struck with the
                  flagrant abuses committed by the agent, and endeavoured to remedy <pb n="246" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p246.jpg"/> them, but without effect. One
                  instance, among many which I could produce, may serve as a specimen. Government
                  had ordered to be provided all necessaries (slops, as they are called, included)
                  for 750 persons; however, not being able to muster more than 426, I was ordered to
                  send the superfluous slops, &amp;c. to the king's stores at Portsmouth; but, when
                  I demanded them for that purpose from the agent, it appeared they had never been
                  bought, though paid for by government. But that was not all, government were not
                  the only objects of peculation; these poor people suffered infinitely more; their
                  accommodations, were most wretched; many of them wanted beds, and many more
                  cloathing and other necessaries. For the truth of this, and much more, I do not
                  seek credit from my own assertion. I appeal to the testimony of Capt. <pb n="247" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p247.jpg"/> Thompson, of the Nautilus, who
                  convoyed us, to whom I applied in February 1787, for a remedy, when I had
                  remonstrated to the agent in vain, and even brought him to be a witness of the
                  injustice and oppression I complained of. I appeal also to a letter written by
                  these wretched people, so early as the beginning of the preceding January, and
                  published in the Morning Herald, on the 4th of that month, signed by twenty of
                  their chiefs.</p>
               <p>I could not silently suffer government to be thus cheated, and my countrymen
                  plundered and oppressed, and even lest destitude of the necessaries for almost
                  their existence. I therefore informed the Commissioners of the Navy of the agent's
                  proceeding; but my dismission was soon after procured, by means of a gentleman in
                  the city, whom the agent, conscious of his peculation, <pb n="248" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p248.jpg"/> had deceived by letter, and who,
                  moreover, empowered the same agent to receive on board, at the government expence,
                  a number of persons as passengers, contrary to the orders I received. By this I
                  suffered a considerable loss in my property: however, the commissioners were
                  satisfied with my conduct, and wrote to Capt. Thompson, expressing their
                  opprobation of it.</p>
               <p>Thus provided, they proceeded on their voyage; and at last, worn out by treatment,
                  perhaps not the most mild, and wasted by sickness, brought on by want of medicine,
                  cloaths, bedding, &amp;c. they reached Sirrea Leona just at at the commencement of
                  the rains. At that season of the year it is impossible to cultivate the lands;
                  their provisions therefore were exhausted before they could derive any benefit
                  from agriculture; and it is not surprising <pb n="249" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p249.jpg"/> that many, especially the lascars,
                  whose constitutions are very tender, and who had been cooped up in ships from
                  October to June, and accommodated in the manner I have mentioned, should be so
                  wasted by their confinement as not long to survive it.</p>
               <p>Thus ended my part of the long-talked of expedition to sierra Leona; an expedition
                  which, however unfortunate in the event, was humane and politic in its design, nor
                  was its failure owing to government: every thing was done on their part; but there
                  was evidently sufficient mismanagement attending the conduct and execution of it
                  to defeat its success.</p>
               <p>I should not have been so ample in my account of this transaction, had not the
                  share I bore in it been made the subject of partial animadversion, and even my
                  dismission from my employment <pb n="250" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p250.jpg"/> thought worthy of being made by some a matter of public <ref target="triumph_" corresp="triumph">triumph*</ref>. The motives
                  which might influence any person to descend to a petty contest with an obscure
                  African, and to seek gratification by his depression, perhaps it is not proper
                  here to inquire into or relate, even if its detection were necessary to my
                  vindication; but I thank Heaven it is not. I wish to stand by my own integrity,
                  and not to shelter myself under the impropriety of another; and I trust the
                  behaviour of the Commissioners of the Navy to me entitle me to make this
                  assertion; for after I had been dismissed, March 24, I drew up a memorial
                  thus:</p>
               <note xml:id="triumph" target="triumph_">* See the Public Advertiser, July 14,
                     1787. [Equiano's Note]</note>
                  <floatingText>
                     <body>

                        <pb n="251" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p251.jpg"/>
                        <opener>To the Right Honourable the Lords Commissioners of his Majesty's Treasury:</opener>
                        <opener>
                           <hi rend="italic">The Memorial and Petition of</hi> GUSTAVUS VASSA <hi rend="italic">a black Man, late Commissary to the black Poor going
                              to</hi> AFRICA.</opener>
                        <opener>HUMBLY SHEWETH,</opener>
                        <p>THAT your Lordships memorialist was, by the Honourable the Commissioners
                           of his Majesty's Navy on the 4th of December last, appointed to the above
                           employment by warrant from that board;</p>
                        <p>That he accordingly proceeded to the execution of his duty on board of
                           the Vernon, being one of the ships appointed to proceed to Africa with
                           the above poor;</p>
                        <p>That your memorialist, to his great grief and astonishment, received a
                           letter <pb n="252" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p252.jpg"/> of
                           dismission from the Honourable Commissioners of the Navy, by your
                           Lordships orders;</p>
                        <p>That, conscious of having acted with the most perfect fidelity and the
                           greatest assiduity in discharging the trust reposed in him, he is
                           altogether at a loss to conceive the reasons of your Lordships having
                           altered the favourable opinion you were pleased to conceive of him,
                           sensible that your Lordships would not proceed to so severe a measure
                           without some apparent good cause; he therefore has every reason to
                           believe that his conduct has been grossly misrepresented to your
                           Lordships, and he is the more confirmed in his opinion, because, by
                           opposing measures of others concerned in the same expedition, which
                           tended to defeat your Lordships humane intentions, and to put the
                           government to a very considerable <pb n="253" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p253.jpg"/> additional expence, he
                           created a number of enemies, whose misrepresentations, he has too much reason to believe, laid the foundation of
                           his dismission. Unsupported by friends; and unaided by the advantages of
                           a liberal education, he can only hope for redress from the justice of his
                           cause, in addition to the mortification of having been removed from his
                           employment, and the advantage which he reasonably might have expected to
                           have derived therefrom. He has had the misfortune to have sunk a
                           considerable part of his lit tle property in fitting himself out, and in
                           other expences arising out of his situation, an account of which he here
                           annexes. Your memorialist will not trouble your Lordships with a
                           vindication of any part of his conduct, because he knows not of what
                           crimes he is accused; he, however, earnestly entreats <pb n="254" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p254.jpg"/> that you will be pleased to
                           direct an inquiry into his behaviour during the time he acted in the
                           public service; and, if it be found that his dismission arose from salse
                           representations, he is confident that in your Lordships justice he shall
                           find redress.</p>
                        <p>Your petitioner therefore humbly prays that your Lordships will take his
                           case into consideration, and that you will be pleased to order payment of
                           the above referred-to account, amounting to 32l. 4s. and also the wages
                           intended, which is most humbly submitted.</p>
                        <closer>
                           <placeName>
                              <hi rend="italic">London,</hi>
                             
                                 <hi rend="italic">May</hi> 12, 1787.
                           </placeName>
                        </closer>

                     </body>
                  </floatingText>
               
               <p>The above petition was delivered into the hands of their Lordships, who were kind
                  enough, in the space of some few months afterwards, without hearing, to order me
                  50l. sterling—that is, 18l. wages for the time (upwards of four <pb n="255" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p255.jpg"/> months) I acted a faithful part in
                  their service. Certainly the sum is more than a free negro would have had in the
                  western colonies!!!</p>
               <p>From that period, to the present time, my life has passed in an even tenor, and
                  great part of my study and attention has been to assist in the cause of my much
                  injured countrymen.</p>
               <p>March the 21st, 1788, I had the honour of presenting the Queen with a petition on
                  behalf of my African brethren, which was received most graciously by Her
                  <ref target="Majesty_" corresp="Majesty">Majesty*</ref>:</p>
               
                  <floatingText>
                     <body>

                        <opener>
                           <hi rend="italic">To the</hi> QUEEN's <hi rend="italic">most Excellent
                              Majesty.</hi>
                        </opener>
                        <opener>
                           <salute>MADAM,</salute>
                        </opener>
                        <p>YOUR Majesty's well known benevolence and humanity emboldens</p>
                     </body>
                  </floatingText>
                  <note xml:id="Majesty" corresp="Majesty_">* At the request of some of my most
                     particular friends, I take the liberty of inserting it here. [Equiano's note]</note>
                  <pb n="256" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p256.jpg"/>
                  <floatingText>
                     <body>
                        <p>me to approach your royal presence, trusting that the obscurity of my
                           situa tion will not prevent your Majesty from attending to the sufferings
                           for which I plead.</p>
                        <p>Yet I do not solicit your royal pity, for my own distress; my sufferings,
                           although numerous, are in a measure forgotten. I supplicate your
                           Majesty's compassion for millions of my African countrymen, who groan
                           under the lash of tyranny in the West Indies.</p>
                        <p>The oppression and cruelty exercised to the unhappy negroes there, have
                           at length reached the British legislature, and they are now deliberating
                           on its redress; even several persons of pro perty in slaves in the West
                           Indies, have petitioned parliament against its continuance, sensible that it is as impolitic as it is unjust—and what is
                           inhuman must ever be unwise.</p>
                        <p>
                           <pb n="257" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p257.jpg"/> Your Majesty's
                           reign has been hitherto distinguished by private acts of benevolence and
                           bounty; surely the more extended the misery is, the greater claim it has
                           to your Majesty's com passion, and the greater must be your Majesty's
                           pleasure in administering to its relief.</p>
                        <p>I presume, therefore, gracious Queen, to implore your interposition with
                           your royal consort, in favour of the wretch ed Africans; that, by your
                           Majesty's benevolent influence, a period may now be put to their misery;
                           and that they may be raised from the condition of brutes, to which they
                           are at present degraded, to the rights and situation of freemen, and
                           admitted to partake of the blessings of your Majesty's happy government;
                           so shall your Majesty enjoy the heart-felt pleasure of procuring
                           happiness to millions, and be rewarded <pb n="258" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p258.jpg"/> in the grateful prayers of
                           themselves, and of their posterity.</p>
                        <p>And may the all-bountiful Creator shower on your Majesty, and the Royal
                           Family, every bleffing that this world can afford, and every fulness of
                           joy which divine revelation has promised us in the next.</p>
                        <closer>
                           <signed>I am your Majesty's most dutiful and devoted servant to command,
                              GUSTAVUS VASSA, The Oppressed Ethiopian.</signed>
                           <placeName>No. 53. Baldwin's Gardens.</placeName>
                        </closer>

                     </body>
                  </floatingText>
               <p>The negro consolidated act, made by the assembly of Jamaica last year, and the new
                  act of amendment now in agitation there, contain a proof of the existence of those
                  charges that have been made against the <pb n="259" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p259.jpg"/> planters relative to the tratment of
                  their slaves.</p>
               <p>I hope to have the satisfaction of seeing the renovation of liberty and justice,
                  resting on the British government, to vindicate the honour of our common nature.
                  These are concerns which do not perhaps belong to any particular office: but, to
                  speak more seriously to every man of sentiment, actions like these are the just
                  and sure foundation of future fame; a reversion, though remote, is coveted by some
                  noble minds as a substantial good. It is upon these grounds that I hope and expect
                  the attention of gentlemen in power. These are designs consonant to the elevation
                  of their rank, and the dignity of their stations: they are ends suitable to the
                  nature of a free and ge nerous government; and, connected with views of empire and
                  dominion, <pb n="260" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p260.jpg"/> suited to the
                  benevolence and solid merit of the legislature. It is a pursuit of substantial
                  greatness.—May the time come—at least the speculation to me is pleasing—when the
                  sable people shall gratefully commemorate the au spicious aera of extensive
                  freedom. Then shall those <ref target="persons_" corresp="persons">persons*</ref> particularly be named with praise and honour,
                  who generously proposed and stood forth in the cause of humanity, liberty, and
                  good policy; and brought to the car of the legislature designs worthy of royal
                  patronage and adoption. May Heaven make the British senators the dispersers of
                  light, liberty, and science, to the uttermost parts of the earth: <note xml:id="persons" target="persons_">
                                    <p>* Granville Sharp, <abbr>Esq</abbr> the Reverend Thomas
                        Clarkson; the Reverend James Ramsay; our approved friends, men of virtue,
                        are an honour to their country, ornamental to human nature, happy in
                        themselves, and benefactors to mankind! [Equiano's note]</p>
                                </note>
                  <pb n="261" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p261.jpg"/> then will be glory to God on
                  the highest, on earth peace, and good-will to men:—Glory, honour, peace, &amp;c.
                  to every soul of man that worketh good, to the Britons first, (because to them the
                  Gospel is preached) and also to the nations. <quote>'Those that honour their Maker have mercy on the poor.'
                  'It is righteousness exalteth a nation, but sin
                     is a reproach to any people; destruction shall be to the workers of iniquity,
                     and the wicked shall fall by their own wickedness.'</quote> May the blessings
                  of the Lord be upon the heads of all those who commiserated the cases of the
                  oppressed negroes, and the fear of God prolong their days; and may their
                  expectations be filled with gladness! 'The
                     liberal devise liberal things, and by liberal things shall stand,'
                  Isaiah xxxii. 8. They can say with pious Job, <quote>'Did not I weep for <pb n="262" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p262.jpg"/> him
                     that was in trouble? was not my soul grieved for the poor?'</quote> Job xxx.
                  25.</p>
               <p>As the inhuman traffic of slavery is to be taken into the consideration of the
                  British legislature, I doubt not, if a system of commerce was established in
                  Africa, the demand for manufactures will most rapidly augment, as the na tive
                  inhabitants will insensibly adopt the British fashions, manners, customs, &amp;c.
                  In proportion to the civilization, so will be the consumption of British
                  manufactures.</p>
               <p>The wear and tear of a continent, nearly twice as large as Europe, and rich in
                  vegetable and mineral productions, is much easier conceived than calculated.</p>
               <p>A case in point.—It cost the Aborigines of Britain, little or nothing in clothing,
                  &amp;c. The difference between their forefathers and the present generation, <pb n="263" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p263.jpg"/> in point of consumption, is
                  literally infinite. The supposition is most obvious. It will be equally im mense
                  in Africa—The same cause, viz. civilization, will ever have the same effect.</p>
               <p>It is trading upon safe grounds. A commercial intercourse with Africa opens an
                  inexhaustible source of wealth to the manufacturing interests of Great Britain,
                  and to all which the slave trade is an objection.</p>
               <p>If I am not misinformed, the manufacturing interest is equal, if not superior, to
                  the landed interest, as to the value, for reasons which will soon appear. The
                  abolition of slavery, so diabolical, will give a most rapid extension of
                  manufactures, which is totally and diametrically opposite to what some interested
                  people assert.</p>
               <p>
                  <pb n="264" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p264.jpg"/> The manufactures of this
                  country must and will, in the nature and reason of things, have a full and
                  constant employ by supplying the African mar kets.</p>
               <p>Population, the bowels and surface of Africa, abound in valuable and use ful
                  returns; the hidden treasures of cen turies will be brought to light and into
                  circulation. Industry, enterprize, and mining, will have their full scope, pro
                  portionably as they civilize. In a word, it lays open an endless field of commerce
                  to the British manufactures and merchant adventurer. The manufacturing interest
                  and the general inte rests are synonymous. The abolition of slavery would be in
                  reality an universal good.</p>
               <p>Tortures, murder, and every other imaginable barbarity and iniquity, are practised
                  upon the poor slaves with impunity. <pb n="265" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p265.jpg"/> I hope the slave trade will be
                  abolished. I pray it may be an event at hand. The great body of manufacturers,
                  uniting in the cause, will considerably facilitate and expedite it; and, as I
                  have already stated, it is most substantially their interest and advantage, and as
                  such the nation's at large, (except those persons concerned in the manufacturing
                  neck-yokes, collars, chains, hand-cuffs, leg-bolts, drags, thumbscrews, iron
                  muzzles, and coffins; cats, scourges, and other instruments of torture used in the
                  slave trade). In a short time one sentiment alone will prevail, from motives of
                  interest as well as justice and humanity. Europe contains one hundred and twenty
                  millions of inhabitants. Query—How many millions doth Africa contain? supposing
                  the Africans, collectively and individually, to expend 5l. a head in raiment <pb n="266" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p266.jpg"/> and furniture yearly when
                  civilized, &amp;c. an immensity beyond the reach of imagination!</p>
               <p>This I conceive to be a theory founded upon facts, and therefore an infallible
                  one. If the blacks were permitted to remain in their own country, they would
                  double themselves every fifteen years. In proportion to such increase will be the
                  demand for manufactures. Cotton and indigo grow spontaneously in most parts of
                  Africa; a consideration this of no small consequence to the manufacturing towns of
                  Great Britain. It opens a most immense, glorious, and happy prospect—the clothing,
                  &amp;c. of a continent ten thousand miles in circumference, and immensely rich in
                  productions of every denomination in return for manufactures.</p>
               <p>
                  <pb n="267" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p267.jpg"/> I have only therefore to
                  request the reader's indulgence and conclude. I am far from the vanity of thinking
                  there is any merit in this narrative: I hope censure will be suspended, when it is
                  considered that it was written by one who was as unwilling as unable to adorn the
                  plainness of truth by the colouring of imagination. My life and fortune have been
                  extremely chequered, and my adventures various. Even those I have related are
                  considerably abridged. If any incident in this little work should appear
                  uninteresting and trifling to most readers, I can only say, as my excuse for
                  mentioning it, that almost every event of my life made an impression on my mind,
                  and influenced my conduct. I early accus tomed myself to look for the hand of God
                  in the minutest occurrence, and to learn from it a lesson of morality <pb n="268" facs="pageImages/Equiano-vol2-p268.jpg"/> and religion; and in this light,
                  every circumstance I have related was to me of importance. After all, what makes
                  any event important, unless by its observation we become better and wiser, and
                  learn 'to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk
                     humbly before God?' To those who are possessed of this spirit, there is
                  scarcely any book or incident so trifling that does not afford some profit, while
                  to others the experience of ages seems of no use; and even to pour out to them the
                  treasures of wisdom is throwing the jewels of instruction away.</p>
            </div>
            <trailer>THE END.</trailer>
         </div>
      </body>
      <back>
         <div>
            <note xml:id="subscribers" target="subscribers_">
                            <p>Equiano published the book by
                  subscription, subsidizing the printing of the book by soliciting payment up front
                  from people who would then receive their copy of the book (or copies; some people
                  ordered multiple copies) when it was published. This was a shrewd move on
                  Equiano's part, as it enabled him to retain copyright in his book, which meant
                  that he received all of the profits, rather than, as was more typical in the
                  period, receiving a lump sum in advance for his copyright. At the same time, the
                  subscribers were able to associate themselves with the abolitionist cause;
                  becoming a subscriber, and having your name published in this list, was like
                  signing a petition in favor of ending the slave trade.</p>
               <p>The <hi rend="italic">Interesting Narrative</hi> was a great success, going into
                  nine editions in Equiano's lifetime. With each edition, the list of subscribers
                  grew; the first edition had 321 subscribers, which grew to 804 in the ninth
                  edition, published in 1794. Here we print the list of subscribers for the second
                  edition, published in 1789.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="benin" target="benin_">
                            <p>A prime area for the slave trade during this
                  time due to its economic and military prowess. The upper hand in warfare was an
                  important factor in the African slave trade because of the tradition in which
                  African tribes would enslave other Africans after battles, viewing them as spoils
                  of war.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="purple" target="purple_">
                            <p>The best color to wear in Europe during this
                  time was purple since the color was hard to extract and get a hold of. If one was
                  to wear purple it was usually because they were royal.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="agriculture" target="agriculture_">
                            <p>Interesting to note that they are
                  living in an egalitarian culture when it comes to agriculture, the backbone to
                  their existence.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="hardiness" target="hardiness_">
                            <p>The narrator appears to be proud that it
                  is his land that is most commonly used for the slave trade due to his people's
                  hardiness and work ethic.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="trophy" target="trophy_">
                            <p>Grisly account that does not parallel the
                  thriving and forward thinking culture of the narrator's home that he described
                  earlier.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="oblation" target="oblation_">
                            <p>Oblation: (the act of making a religious
                  offering; specifically capitalized : the act of offering the eucharistic elements
                  to God</p>.</note>

            <note xml:id="oblation2" target="oblation2_">
                            <p>The act of making a religious offering;
                  specifically capitalized : the act of offering the eucharistic elements to God
                  (Merriam-Webster).</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="jews" target="jews_">
                            <p>Religious laws require Jewish people to take part
                  in ritual washing, including an immersion of the whole body (tevilah) and the
                  pouring water over the hands (netilat yadayim). There is no specific correlation
                  or proof that this contributed to higher hygiene levels among the Jewish
                  population, however, so Equiano's statement is likely based on stereotypes of the
                  time (Wikipedia).</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="gill" target="gill_">
                            <p>John Gill (1697-1771) was a prominent biblical
                  scholar of the time, know most commonly for his in-depth biblical analysis in <hi rend="italic">An Exposition of the New Testament</hi> (3 vols., 1746–8), and
                     <hi rend="italic"> Exposition of the Old Testament</hi> (6 vols.,
                  1748–63)(Wikipedia).</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="afer" target="afer_">
                            <p>In Dr. Gill's analysis of Genesis 25:4, he
                  mentions an Aphra and Apher, not an Afer and Afra, which is a potential error on
                  Equiano's part. Dr. Gill contextualizes them by saying that they are the <quote>
                     sons of Abraham by Keturah...and all Africa, had their names, and that these
                     accompanied Hercules into Lybia</quote> (Christianity.com).</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="clarkson" target="clarkson_">
                            <p>Thomas Clarkson (1760-1846) was an English
                  abolitionist that participated heavily in anti-slavery campaigns worldwide
                  (Wikipedia).</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="sable" target="sable_">
                            <p>Black or dark. Source: Oxford English
                  Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="pestilential" target="pestilential_">
                            <p>According to the Oxford English
                  Dictionary, relating to epidemic disease.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="consternation" target="consternation_">
                            <p>Can be defined as amazement and
                  terror, or dismay (Oxford English Dictionary).</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="spartan" target="spartan_">
                            <p>The Spartans, from ancient Greece, performed
                  this same practice. The men stayed away from the women most of the time so they
                  could focus on war and studying with their brothers. This practice helps the men
                  stay sharp and not have either of the sexes be distracted by each
               other.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="barbarity" target="barbarity_">
                            <p>The use of the word "barbarity" is
                  significant because during this time period, slaves were usually the ones that
                  were dehumanized and deemed savages, whereas white people were considered
                  civilized.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="sloop" target="sloop_">
                            <p>Oxford English Dictionary refers to a "sloop" as
                  a "small, one-masted fore-and-aft rigged vessel" or a "relatively small
                  ship-of-war carrying guns on the upper deck only."</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="bastinado" target="bastinado_">
                            <p>Oxford English Dictionary refers to a
                  "bastinado" as a "blow with a stick, usually on the soles of the feet."</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="wherry" target="wherry_">
                            <p>A 15 to 20 foot long boat traditionally used
                  to carry cargo and passengers in rivers and canals in England. Source: Oxford
                  English Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="traffic" target="traffic_">
                            <p>By which Equiano means his trade history.
                  Source: Oxford English Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="neat" target="neat_">
                            <p>In good condition. Source: Oxford English
                  Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="obeisance" target="obeisance_">
                            <p>Deference or submission to a superior.
                  Source: Oxford English Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="manumission" target="manumission_">
                            <p>Formal release from slavery or
                  servitude. Source: Oxford English Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="peter" target="peter_">
                            <p>Allusion to Peter's escape from King Herrod's
                  prison, when God sent an angel to miraculously save him. Source: King James
                  Bible.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="elijah" target="elijah_">
                            <p>Allusion to story in 2 Kings when God
                  mysteriously took Elijah and Enoch to Heaven before they died. Source: King James
                  Bible.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="gaol" target="gaol_">
                            <p>A jail. Source: Oxford English
               Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="secret" target="secret_">
                            <p>To keep secret, conceal, hide. Source: Oxford
                  English Dictionary</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="lading" target="lading_">
                            <p>The loading of a ship with its cargo. Source:
                  Oxford English Dictionary</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="bullocks" target="bullocks_">
                            <p>Bull calves. Source: Oxford English
                  Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="tight" target="tight_">
                            <p>Watertight. Source: Oxford English
                  Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="appellation" target="appellation_">
                            <p>A designation, name, or title given.
                  Source: Oxford English Dictioonary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="leebeam" target="leebeam_">
                            <p>Designating the side of a vessel or sideward
                  direction: the side away from the wind. Source: Oxford English
               Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="grampus" target="grampus_">
                            <p>The popular name of various delphinoid
                  cetaceans, having a high falcate dorsal fin and a blunt rounded head, and
                  remarkable for the spouting and blowing which accompanies their movements. Source:
                  Oxford English Dictioanry.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="madeira" target="madeira_">
                            <p>These islands traded heavily in sugar cane.
                  Barbados had one of the largest sugar industries in the world during the
                  eighteenth century. Source: Oxford English Dictionary and Wikipedia.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="nevis" target="nevis_">
                            <p>A small island in the Caribbean. Source:
                  Wikipedia.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="sheerness" target="sheerness_">
                            <p>Sheerness is a port to the east of
                  London. See link for photo
                  http://www.weather-forecast.com/locations/Sheerness.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="aquafortis" target="aquafortis_">
                            <p>Nitric Acid, Latin for Strong Water,
                  it is a highly corrosive substance. Source: Oxford English Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="lanthorn" target="lanthorn_">
                            <p>Lantern. Source: Oxford English
                  Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="walrus" target="walrus_">
                            <p>Walruses. Source: Oxford English
                  Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="orfordness" target="orfordness_">
                            <p>A sand bar off the eastern coast of
                  England. Source: Wikipedia.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="smyrna" target="smyrna_">
                            <p>Known today as Izmir, Turkey, this large port
                  was an Ancient Greek city that’s strategically advantageous position has
                  maintained it as a trading port to this day. Source: Wikipedia.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="inveigle" target="inveigle_">
                            <p>Persuade. Source: Oxford English
                  Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="trepan" target="trepan_">
                            <p>This does not refer to the surgical definition
                  of trepan which means to dig a hole in the scull. This is a lesser known
                  definition meaning to ensnare or trap.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="alarm" target="alarm_">
                            <p>Reference to Joseph Alleine’s 1671 "An Alarm to
                  the Unconverted," which was commonly referred to as the "Sure Guide to Heaven,"
                  that outlined the need for religious conversion of all people. Source: King James
                  Bible.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="acts" target="acts_">
                            <p>'Neither is there salvation in any other: for
                  there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved.'
                  Source: Acts 4:12.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="bornagain" target="bornagain_">
                            <p>Jesus answered, "Very truly I tell you,
                  no one can enter the kingdom of God unless they are born of water and the Spirit."
                  Source: John 3:5.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="ardour" target="ardour_">
                            <p>Heat of passion or desire, vehemence, ardent
                  desire; warmth of emotion, zeal, fervour, eagerness, enthusiasm. Source: Oxford
                  English Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="supplication" target="supplication_">
                            <p>A humble plea; an earnest request
                  or entreaty or the action of addressing a solemn request to God. Source: Oxford
                  English Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="indited" target="indited_">
                            <p>To utter, suggest, or inspire a form of
                  words which is to be repeated or written down. Source: Oxford English
                  Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="aminadab" target="aminadab_">
                            <p>A person mentioned in Canticles 6:12 whose
                  chariots were famed for their swiftness. Source: Bible Study Tools.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="laden" target="laden_">
                            <p>Burdened, loaded, weighed down. Source: Oxford
                  English Dictionary).</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="romans" target="romans_">
                            <p>'For we know that our old self was crucified
                  with him so that the body ruled by sin might be done away with, that we should no
                  longer be slaves to sin.' Source: Romans 6:6.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="blackfriars" target="blackfriars_">
                            <p>An area of central London, which
                  lies in the south-west corner of the City of London. The name Blackfriars was
                  first used in 1317 and derives from the black cappa worn by the Dominican Friars
                  who moved their priory from Holborn to the area between the River Thames and
                  Legate Hill in 1276. Source: Blackfriars, Oxford, England.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="shewed" target="shewed_">
                            <p>A spelling of the word "showed." Source:
                  Oxford English Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="abhorrence" target="abhorrence_">
                            <p>A feeling of revulsion; disgusted
                  loathing. Source: Oxford English Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="guile" target="guile_">
                            <p>Sly or cunning intelligence. Source: Oxford
                  English Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>

            <note xml:id="impious" target="impious_">
                            <p>Showing lack of respect for God or religion.
                  Source: Oxford English Dictionary.</p>
                        </note>
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                     <note>Page images are drawn from the libretto, available on Google Books at
                           <ref target="https://www.google.com/books/edition/Alfred_a_Masque/OR3haEgISR8C">https://www.google.com/books/edition/Alfred_a_Masque/OR3haEgISR8C</ref>.</note>
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                        a masque: Represented before Their Royal Highnesses the Prince and Princess
                        of Wales, at Cliffden, on the first of August, 1740., Oxford Text Archive,
                           <ref target="http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.12024/K030406.000">http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.12024/K030406.000</ref>.</note>
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                  <extent>44p.; 8⁰.</extent>
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         <pb n="42" facs="pageImages/42.png"/>
         <titlePage>
            <titlePart> An <hi rend="italic">ODE</hi>. [Rule, Britannia]</titlePart>
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            <lg n="1">
               <head type="sub">1.</head>
               <l n="1">When <hi rend="italic">Britain</hi> first, at heaven's command,</l>
               <l n="2" rend="indent">Arose from out the azure <ref target="main_" corresp="main">main</ref>;</l>
               <note xml:id="main" target="main_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">According to
                  the OED (main, n.5a), the "main" is the open sea--the azure or blue sea, in this
                  case.</note>
               <l n="3">
                                <hi rend="italic">This</hi> was the <ref target="charter_" corresp="charter">charter</ref> of the land,</l>
               <note xml:id="charter" target="charter_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">A charter
                  is a founding document, but more specifically, a document from a sovereign source
                  "granting privileges to, or recognizing the rights of,...certain classes" or
                  groups of people (OED, n.1a). What entity grants these rights in the poem?</note>
               <l n="4" rend="indent">And guardian Angels sung <hi rend="italic">this</hi>
                  strain:</l>
               <l n="5" rend="indent2">"Rule <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="britannia_" corresp="britannia">Britannia</ref>,</hi> rule the waves;</l>
               <note xml:id="britannia" target="britannia_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">
                                <p>
                                    <graphic url="notes/The_East_offering_its_riches_to_Britannia_-_Roma_Spiridone,_1778_-_BL_Foster_245.jpg" alt="Oil painting of 'The East Offering Its Riches to Britannia' (1778)" desc="Spridone, 'The East Offering Its Riches to Britannia' (1778)" source="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_East_Offering_its_Riches_to_Britannia"/>Britannia is a figurative, allegorical representation of Britain as a female
                  warrior carrying a trident and a sheild, often accompanied by a lion. The trident
                  is the weapon of Neptune, the ancient Roman god of the sea, and in the 19th
                  century, she became a vivid symbol of empire. We might keep in mind the role that
                  white femininity might play in "civilizing" others. In the 1778 painting shown
                  here, we see an unhelmeted Britannia accepting offerings from "the East" (<hi rend="italic">The East Offering its Richest to Britannia</hi>, via <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_East_Offering_its_Riches_to_Britannia">Wikipedia</ref>).</p>
                            </note>
               <l n="6" rend="indent2">"<hi rend="italic">Britons</hi> never will be slaves."</l>
            </lg>
            <lg n="2">
               <head type="sub">2.</head>
               <l n="7">The nations, not so blest as thee,</l>
               <l n="8" rend="indent">Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall:</l>
               <l n="9">While thou shalt flourish great and free,</l>
               <l n="10" rend="indent">The dread and envy of them all.</l>
               <l n="11" rend="indent2">"Rule, <hi rend="italic">&amp;c.</hi>
                            </l>
            </lg>
            <lg n="3">
               <head type="sub">3.</head>
               <l n="12">Still more majestic shalt thou rise,</l>
               <l n="13" rend="indent">More dreadful, from each foreign stroke:</l>
               <l n="14">As the loud blast that tears the skies,</l>
               <l n="15" rend="indent">Serves but to root thy native <ref target="oak_" corresp="oak">oak</ref>.</l>
                            <note xml:id="oak" target="oak_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">The native English oak tree (quercus robur) has long been a symbol of strength and justice (<ref target="https://nph.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/nph.15987">"Oak Symbolism in the Light of Genomics"</ref>).</note>
               <l n="16" rend="indent2">"Rule, <hi rend="italic">&amp;c.</hi>
                            </l>
            </lg>
            <lg n="4">
               <head type="sub">4.</head>
               <l n="17">Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame:</l>
               <l n="18" rend="indent">All their attempts to bend thee down,</l>
               <l n="19">Will but arrouse thy generous flame;</l>
               <l n="20" rend="indent">But work their woe, and thy renown.</l>
               <l n="21" rend="indent2">"Rule, <hi rend="italic">&amp;c.</hi>
                            </l>
            </lg>
            <pb n="43" facs="pageImages/43.png"/>
            <lg n="5">
               <head type="sub">5.</head>
               <l n="22">To thee belongs the rural reign;</l>
               <l n="23" rend="indent">Thy cities shall with commerce shine:</l>
               <l n="24">All thine shall be the subject main,</l>
               <l n="25" rend="indent">And every shore it circles thine.</l>
               <l n="26" rend="indent2">"Rule, <hi rend="italic">&amp;c.</hi>
                            </l>
            </lg>
            <lg n="6">
               <head type="sub">6.</head>
               <l n="27">The Muses, still with freedom found,</l>
               <l n="28" rend="indent">Shall to thy happy coast repair:</l>
               <l n="29">Blest isle! with matchless beauty crown'd,</l>
               <l n="30" rend="indent">And manly hearts to guard the fair.</l>
               <l n="31" rend="indent2">"Rule, <hi rend="italic">Britannia,</hi> rule the waves:</l>
               <l n="32" rend="indent2">"<hi rend="italic">Britons</hi> never will be slaves.</l>
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                Alexander Pope (1688-1744) was the greatest English poet of the eighteenth century, and one of the greatest of all the poets who have written in the English language. Poets, critics, and general readers since Pope’s own day have recognized just how spectacularly talented he was as a crafter of verse, his sheer skill with the language. And from the start, people also noticed how ambitious he was, how fully he willed himself into becoming a great poet. From his early twenties, when poems like <hi rend="italic">An Essay on Criticism</hi> and <hi rend="italic">The Rape of the Lock</hi> established him as the most vibrant and interesting young poet of the era, Pope has been considered to be a great writer and the most representative poet of the entire literary period between the works of John Milton and the emergence of the movement called Romanticism at the end of the eighteenth century.</p>
                
            <p>What, exactly, does it mean, though, to say that Pope was great and significant? What is “greatness,” anyway? This is not an easy question to answer, because it gets at questions of taste that are always going to be to some degree subjective, and to some degree determined by where you are in history. Works believed to be great in one era or context may seem trite in another, and it is fair to say that the kind of poetry that Pope wrote, with tightly-controlled rhymed heroic couplets, has not been in fashion with readers or critics for a couple of hundred years. And because of that fact, Pope and the poetry of this entire period is less accessible to us than it ought to be. We read less poetry than did eighteenth-century readers and even those who do read poetry in our times are simply not used to verse like this. The end result is that it is hard for us to see what contemporaries recognized in Pope, what they found so striking, and what caused them to admire his works.</p>
                
            <p>Unlike us, eighteenth-century readers <hi rend="italic">were</hi> used to reading lots of poetry in heroic couplets–it was the dominant form of poetry in English throughout the century. And no writer in English was better at writing heroic couplets than Pope. Again and again, Pope startles the reader by coming up with a wholly original way of composing his lines, of setting up his rhymes, of ordering his words perfectly such that the crucial words seem to fall into place as if there were no other way that they could be arranged. For all that Pope’s heroic couplets are artificial–no one speaks this way, after all–Pope consistently makes it feel as though the words could only be arranged in the order in which he puts them; sound follows sense to an extent that very few other poets of the period were able to achieve. We know from the surviving manuscripts of his poems that this effect–of making a very artificial form seem entirely natural, as if you’re listening to conversation rather than declamation–took a great deal of work. Pope revised his poems again and again, often keeping them in manuscript form, circulating among friends who offered advice, rewriting and recasting over and over, until he was satisfied enough to have them printed. And even then, Pope continued to revise almost all of his poems once they had been issued in print; most of his works were never “finished” in the sense of reaching a final, definitive state. Pope saw composing poetry as a process that never had an end, an ongoing dialogue in poetry between himself, his readers, and the age that they both lived in.</p>
                
            <p>Pope was enormously ambitious–-he sought fame, recognition, and the wealth that would give a man like him--middle class, well-educated, but without the kind of family wealth or connections that he could rely upon to provide a steady income--the independence that he needed for his art. He also had a significant physical disability. Pope contracted what is called Pott's disease--essentially a form of tuberculosis that affects the spine--at the age of 12. The condition arrested his growth (in adulthood Pope was well under five feet tall), and was painful and degenerative, weakening his spine to the point where he eventually had to be laced into a corset to stand upright. It also rankled Pope that he could not be the official poet laureate because, as a Roman Catholic, he was barred from holding that kind of state-sponsored post. (And, as a Roman Catholic in a period when English people were in general prejudiced against Catholics, he had to put up with many writers who could not help but make jokes about the fact that this Catholic poet happened to be named “Pope.”) But Pope saw himself as becoming in effect, the real poet laureate of his age, speaking to contemporary events while also tailoring his career according to the careers of classical writers. He started, as the Roman poet Virgil did, writing pastoral poetry, then moved on to translating epics: Pope’s versions of Homer’s <hi rend="italic">Iliad</hi> and <hi rend="italic"> Odyssey</hi> were his most popular works in his own lifetime and were the standard translations of both poems for the rest of the century. Pope is the rare case of a person whose skills and ambition matched up. Overcoming his era's prejudices against Catholics as well as a disability that he once referred to as "this long disease, my life," Alexander Pope willed himself into the poet who dominated the verse of his own era, and who would be remembered long after that era was over.</p>  
            
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                <principal ref="editors.xml#JOB">John O'Brien</principal>
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                        <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/equiano-interesting-narrative/equiano-frontispiece.jpeg" style="flaot:right" width="300px" alt="frontispiece portrait of Equiano" source="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/equiano-interesting-narrative/equiano-frontispiece.jpeg" desc="Frontispiece portrait of Equiano, from 'The Interesting Narrative'"/>
                <hi rend="italic">The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano</hi> is
                the first example in English of the slave narrative, the autobiography written by
                one of the millions of persons from Africa or of African descent who were enslaved
                in the Atlantic world between the sixteenth and the nineteenth centuries. Equiano’s
                is an extraordinary memoir, telling the author’s life story from his birth in west
                Africa, in what was then known as Essaka (in what is now the nation of Nigeria), his
                kidnapping, the middle passage across the Atlantic ocean in a slave ship, the
                brutality of the slave system in the American colonies in the Caribbean, the
                mainland of North America, and at sea. Equiano also tells the story of his life as a
                free man of color; after he was finally able to purchase his freedom in 1766, he was
                a merchant, a seaman, a musician, a barber, a civil servant, and, finally, a writer
                who took to the pages of London newspapers to argue on behalf of his fellow
                Afro-Britons before publishing this account of his life. </p>

            <p>Equiano’s book offered the first full description of the middle passage, a
                description harrowing in its sensory vividness:</p>

            <p>
                        <hi rend="italic">The stench of the hold while we were on the coast was so
                    intolerably loathsome, that it was dangerous to remain there for any time, and
                    some of us had been permitted to stay on the deck for the fresh air; but now
                    that the whole ship’s cargo were confined together, it became absolutely
                    pestilential. The closeness of the place, and the heat of the climate, added to
                    the number in the ship, which was so crowded that each had scarcely room to turn
                    himself, almost suffocated us. This produced copious perspirations, so that the
                    air soon became unfit for respiration, from a variety of loathsome smells, and
                    brought on a sickness among the slaves, of which many died, thus falling victims
                    to the improvident avarice, as I may call it, of their purchasers. This wretched
                    situation was again aggravated by the galling of the chains, now become
                    insupportable; and the filth of the necessary tubs, into which the children
                    often fell, and were almost suffocated. The shrieks of the women, and the groans
                    of the dying, rendered the whole a scene of horror almost inconceivable. Happily
                    perhaps for myself I was soon reduced so low here that it was thought necessary
                    to keep me almost always on deck; and from my extreme youth I was not put in
                    fetters. In this situation I expected every hour to share the fate of my
                    companions, some of whom were almost daily brought upon deck at the point of
                    death, which I began to hope would soon put an end to my miseries. Often did I
                    think many of the inhabitants of the deep much more happy than myself. I envied
                    them the freedom they enjoyed, and as often wished I could change my condition
                    for theirs. Every circumstance I met with served only to render my state more
                    painful, and heighten my apprehensions, and my opinion of the cruelty of the
                    whites.</hi>
                    </p>

            <p>Equiano’s book is both a personal story and a powerful item of testimony about the
                larger system of slave-trading that supported the economic system through which
                Britain developed a global empire. Spanning the transatlantic world, Equiano’s story
                powerfully captures the lived experience of slavery in the eighteenth century
                through the eyes of an observer with almost unbelievable resourcefulness and
                resilience. The book is also interesting as a literary document. Equiano is clearly
                familiar with the genre of the spiritual autobiography, the Puritan form of
                self-examination and life writing that shaped works such as Defoe’s <ref target="https://anthologydev.lib.virginia.edu/work/Defoe/defoe-crusoe">
                            <hi rend="italic">Robinson Crusoe</hi>
                        </ref>, and he also cites English poets
                such as John Milton and Alexander Pope, demonstrating his mastery of the canon of
                great English literature. Equiano’s <hi rend="italic">Interesting Narrative</hi> is
                one of the most absorbing, indeed <hi rend="italic">interesting</hi> first-person
                stories of the entire century, a work that both narrates a remarkable set of
                experiences and shrewdly shapes it through the forms available to its author to make
                the case for the abolition of the slave trade.</p>

            <p>It is important to note, however, that in the last two decades, scholars have raised
                doubts about the truth of some parts of Equiano’s <hi rend="italic">Interesting
                    Narrative</hi>. Vincent Carretta, probably the leading scholar in the United
                States on Equiano’s work and life, has discovered documents such as Royal Navy
                muster rolls where Equiano (who was identified for much of his adult life as
                “Gustavus Vassa,” the name given to him by Michael Pascal, his first owner) is
                recorded as having been born in colonial South Carolina. So too does the record of
                his baptism into Christianity in 1759 at St. Margaret’s Church in London. It is
                possible, then, that Equiano is misrepresenting his place of birth, perhaps because
                he believed that his story would be more compelling if he were able to describe
                himself as a native-born African. Other scholars have suggested that there may be
                other reasons to account for the discrepancy; Equiano was not responsible for
                creating these records, and there may be all sorts of reasons why the people who
                were in charge of these documents, or he, might have decided not to have identified
                him as having born in Africa, some of which we probably cannot reconstruct from this
                distance. The question of where Equiano was born will probably remain unresolved
                until better documentary evidence or new ways of understanding the evidence that we
                already have become available. What no one has ever questioned is that Equiano’s <hi rend="italic">Interesting Narrative</hi> is extremely accurate in its depiction
                of the way that the eighteenth-century slave system worked, the horrors of the
                middle passage, and the constant threats to their freedom and well-being experienced
                by free people of color, particularly in the American colonies.</p>

            <p>The publication of the <hi rend="italic">Interesting Narrative</hi> was an important
                event in its own right. First issued in the spring of 1789, the book was timed to
                coincide with a Parliamentary initiative to end Britain’s participation in the
                international slave trade. This was the goal of the first abolitionist movement, a
                movement originating largely with Quakers that was adopted and secularized by a
                combination of evangelical and more secular writers in the 1780s and that found its
                institutional centers of gravity in the largely white Society for Effecting the
                Abolition of the Slave Trade, founded in 1787, and in the Sons of Africa, a society
                of free persons of African descent in Great Britain in which Equiano had a
                leadership role. This generation of abolitionists focused on ending the slave trade
                rather than for the ending of slavery as an institution and the emancipation of all
                enslaved people in large part because they believed it to be unviable politically.
                Rather, they focused on ending the slave trade, arguing that if slave owners were
                unable to purchase new slaves kidnapped and transported from Africa, they would be
                forced to be more benevolent to their own slaves, and the institution would be
                forced to reform itself. Equiano was active in these abolitionist circles, and his
                book in part serves the function of a petition to Parliament to end the slave trade,
                with the names of the book’s subscribers identifying themselves as allies and
                co-petitioners in the cause. The first edition begins by including the names of 311
                people who subscribed to it and thereby subsidized its printing, and later editions
                (nine in all in Equiano’s lifetime, a testimony to the great demand for his book)
                added more, eventually totalling over a thousand, as more people wanted both to own
                the book and to ally themselves with the abolitionist cause. Subscribers were thus
                taking an interest in this book in the financial sense, publicly advancing resources
                to support Equiano and the movement that the book was published to support. The <hi rend="italic">Interesting Narrative</hi> was first printed in the United States
                in New York in 1791 (without Equiano’s permission, as was typical for books
                reprinted from Britain in the early decades of the new republic), and was widely
                reprinted throughout the first half of the nineteenth century.</p>

            <p>Equiano toured throughout the British Isles in the early 1790s, making speaking
                engagements to promote the abolitionist cause, and also to support sales of his
                book, for which he had retained copyright. This turned out to be a smart business
                decision; he made a fair amount of money from sales of the <hi rend="italic">Interesting Narrative</hi>. Equiano married a woman named Susannah Cullen in
                1792; they had two daughters, only one of whom survived to adulthood. But neither
                Olaudah or Susannah was able to enjoy their married life for very long. Susanna died
                in 1796 and Olaudah died in 1797. The abolitionist cause to which the <hi rend="italic">Interesting Narrative</hi> was a major contributor succeeded only
                after his death, as Britain ended its participation in the slave trade in 1807, and
                finally abolished slavery in its colonial holdings in 1833. Slavery in the United
                States continued until the Emancipation Proclamation of 1863.</p>

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                     <note resp="editors.xml#JOB"> Pope published a short, two-canto version of this
                        poem in 1712. He then reworked and republished the poem in a five-canto
                        version in 1714, which is the work that is most read today, and that we reproduce here. The main difference                               between the two is that he added what he called the "apparatus" of fairies and sylphs that surround the human actors in the poem. This text follows the first edition of the 1714 version. The
                        digital text was originally produced by Oxford University Computing Services
                        (13 Banbury Road, Oxford), for the Oxford Text Archive, and uploaded by Lou
                        Burnard. Students and faculty have proofread the text and provided
                        annotations for this Literature in Context edition. The page images and illustrations are
                        reproduced from a copy of the first, 1714 edition, in the University of
                        Virginia's Albert Small Special Collections Library. </note>
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            <preparedness type="prepared"/>
            <purpose type="entertain" degree="high"/>
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               <name type="tgn" key="7002445">England</name>
               <name type="tgn" key="1100405">Hampton Court</name>
               <time from="1700" to="1715">early eighteenth century</time>
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               the 18th century. This project is funded by the National Endowment for the Humanities
               and developed by faculty at The University of Virginia and Marymount University. </p>
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            <interpretation>
               <p>Research informing these annotations draws on publicly-accessible resources, with
                  links provided where possible. Annotations have also included common knowledge,
                  defined as information that can be found in multiple reliable sources. If you
                  notice an error in these annotations, please contact
                  lic.open.anthology@gmail.com.</p>
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      <front>

         <div type="frontispiece">
               <pb n="Frontispiece" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:frontispiece.jpg"/>
            <head>
                            <ref target="frontispiece_" corresp="frontispiece">Frontispiece</ref> <note xml:id="frontispiece" target="frontispiece_" type="editorial" resp="#JOB">The frontispiece was
               designed by Louis du Guernier (1677-1716) a well-known illustrator of the period; he
               also designed the images that appear before each of the five cantos. They were
               engraved by Claude du Bosc (1682-1745?); both men had been born in France but moved
               to London, probably in pursuit of the good opportunities for skilled engravers in the
               London book trade, and worked together on a number of projects for London patrons and
               booksellers in these years. Illustrations as detailed as these were very
               time-consuming and therefore expensive to produce, and the presence of six
               custom-engraved images was a sign that Pope and his publisher Bernard Lintot were
               trying to create a particularly impressive and beautiful object. Pope, who was a
               talented amateur painter in his own right, almost certainly had a role in designing
               the images, although we do not know exactly how he participated. The frontispiece is
               a composite of major events in the poem to follow. The "sylphs," spirits of vanity
               and erotic desire, float around Belinda, the heroine of the poem, as she puts on her
               makeup; they also drop playing cards, alluding to the card game in Canto III, and
               point to the shooting star that ascends at the end of Canto V. In the front lower
               right of the image, a satyr, with pointed ears and cloven hoofs, holds the kind of
               mask that women in the period sometimes wore in public; like many authors in the
               period, Pope is playing on the homophone between "satyr," the sexually-aggressive
               half-human, half-animals of Greek mythology, and "satire," the literary form of which
               "The Rape of the Lock" is an example. Behind the characters is the facade of Hampton
               Court Palace, the royal home down the Thames from London where much of the action of
               the poem takes place. Pope clearly intended the images and the poem to be read
               together, a feature that is not possible in most modern reproductions of the poem,
               which rely on the poetic text alone.</note>
            </head>
         </div>
         <titlePage>
            <pb n="Title Page" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:titlepage.jpg"/>
            <docTitle>
               <titlePart type="main">
                  <ref target="title_" corresp="title">The<hi rend="italic"> Rape</hi> of the <hi rend="italic">Lock</hi>
                                </ref>
                                <note xml:id="title" target="title_" type="editorial" resp="#JOB">
                                    <p>
                                        <graphic url="notes/Pope-Jervis.jpg"/>Alexander
                        Pope’s "The Rape of the Lock" is the most famous poem written in English in
                        the eighteenth century. Chances are, if a modern reader knows only one poem
                        from the period, this is the one. Which is a strange thing. The poem’s
                        subject matter is unusual, even unique: the cutting off of a lock of hair
                        from the head of a young woman and the aftermath of that event. And the poem
                        is written in a form, the heroic couplet, that is rarely used today. But
                        "The Rape of the Lock" has endured because it so fully captured, while also
                        satirizing, an image of a particular world, a world of aristocratic ease,
                        but also great anxiety. And it is also an astonishing accomplishment simply
                        as a poem. No poet of the eighteenth century used the heroic couplet more
                        deftly than Alexander Pope (depicted here in a contemporary painting by
                        Charles Jervis; National Portrait Gallery, London), and perhaps nowhere in
                        his career did he craft couplets and the larger units he built from
                        them—verse paragraphs, cantos, the entire poem itself—with greater verve and
                        delicacy.</p>
                     <p>The poem is based on a true story. At a party one day in 1710 or 1711,
                        Robert Petre, a young man from an aristocratic family, crept up behind
                        Arabella Fermor, a young woman also from a prosperous household, and cut off
                        a lock of her hair. Petre may have thought of this as an amusing, or even a
                        flirtatious prank, but she was angry, and the two families started snubbing
                        and sniping at each other. Years later, Pope described what happened next:
                        “The stealing of Miss Belle Fermor’s hair was taken too seriously, and
                        caused an estrangement between the two families, though they had lived long
                        in great friendship before. A common acquaintance and well-wisher to both
                        desired me to write a poem to make a jest of it, and laugh them together
                        again. It was in this view that I wrote my Rape of the Lock, which was well
                        received and had its effect in the two families.” The “common acquaintance”
                        was John Caryll, a friend of Pope’s who was also close to both the Fermor
                        and Petre families. Like all of them, Caryll was also a Catholic who faced
                        persecution in an era when the government of Britain continued to suspect
                        that Catholics were potentially a subversive force whose loyalties to the
                        Protestant monarchy could not be assured. And sometimes with reason; Caryll
                        was a Jacobite, a supporter of the exiled Pretender, the Stuart James III, then living in exile in France.
                        James continued to claim that he was the true king of Britain, and there were 
                        Jacobites who called for the restoration of the Stuart monarchy until 
                        the movement was finally defeated at the Battle of Culloden in Scotland in 1745. Caryll never
                        joined in any of the conspiracies that took place in the early part of the 
                        century to restore the Stuart monarchy, but he did secretly give financial support to a Catholic
                        church in his neighborhood, which was itself illegal. Caryll may have felt that Catholics in Britain
                        had enough problems without feuding among themselves. Pope, who was at this
                        point starting work on a massive translation of Homer’s poem <hi rend="italic">The Iliad</hi>, seems quickly to have seen the possibility
                        of re-imagining the incident in epic terms, creating what has been called a
                        “mock epic” for the way in which it uses the conventions of epic poetry to
                        describe what is by comparison a trivial event. </p>
                     <p>Pope’s memory of the happy outcome of the poem was, however, a little rose
                        colored from time. Pope wrote the first version of "The Rape of the Lock"
                        quickly—he said it took two weeks; he may have been exaggerating—and it then
                        circulated among the families and their friends in manuscript for a while.
                        That version of the poem, which was much shorter than the one that has
                        ultimately been most read, was published anonymously in 1712, and at this
                        point things got more complicated. As more and more people read the poem now
                        that it was in print, the double entendres and erotic implications of Pope’s
                        work became clearer, and Arabella Fermor—who had initially agreed with
                        letting the poem be printed—was embarrassed as friends started pointing out
                        to her where the dirty jokes were. Sir Charles Brown, the original for the
                        “Sir Plume” of the poem, was also angry at the way he was portrayed (as an
                        idiot). Pope went back to work, and over the course of the next couple of
                        years, added the elaborate “machinery” of the poem, the sylphs and fairies
                        that hover around the action, embedding the original story in a framework of
                        fantasy that deflects some of the agency of the central characters. (Robert
                        Petre’s response to the publication of the first version of the poem is, by
                        the way, unrecorded. Petre married Catherine Walsmeley in 1712, but he died
                        only a few months later from smallpox.) Pope included a letter of dedication
                        to Arabella Fermor that aimed to defuse some of her anger. That new edition,
                        handsomely printed with engravings accompanying each canto, was published as
                        a separate volume in 1714, and immediately became a best-seller, selling
                        around 3,000 copies in four days, which even now would be an extraordinary
                        total for any book, much less a poem in rhyming couplets. It has been
                        admired, critiqued, and argued with ever since.</p>
                                </note>
                  <lb/>
                            </titlePart>
               <titlePart type="subtitle"> AN <lb/>
                  <ref target="Heroi-Comical_" corresp="Heroi-Comical">HEROI-COMICAL</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Heroi-Comical" target="Heroi-Comical_" type="gloss" resp="#JOB">Pope is the inventor of
                     this term, which first appeared here at the opening of <hi rend="italic">The
                        Rape of the Lock.</hi> He is indicating that he will emulate such epics as
                     Homer's <hi rend="italic">Iliad</hi> or Milton's <hi rend="italic">Paradise
                        Lost</hi>, but in a comic register.</note>
                  <lb/> POEM. <lb/>In Five Canto's</titlePart>
            </docTitle>
            <lb/>
            <lb/>
            <docAuthor>Written by Mr. POPE.</docAuthor>
            <lb/>
            <lb/>
            <epigraph>
               <quote>—<ref target="nomen_" corresp="nomen">
                                    <hi rend="italic">A tonso est hoc nomen adepta</hi>
                  capillo.</ref>
                  <note xml:id="nomen" target="nomen_" type="editorial" resp="#UVAstudstaff">The full
                     quote, which comes from Book VIII of Ovid's <hi rend="italic">Metamorphoses</hi>, should read, "Ciris et, a tonso est hoc nomen adepta
                     capillo": "She acquired the name from the cutting of the hair." Ovid's story,
                     first published in 8 CE, goes like this. Nisus was the King of Alcathous and he
                     had a lock of purple hair on his crown that (somehow) guaranteed the safety of his
                     kingdom. Scylla, his daughter, fell in love with King Minos, who was conquering
                     the kingdom, and in order to gain his favor, Scylla cut off the lock of her
                     father's hair. But, disgusted with her disloyalty, Minos left by ship. As
                     Scylla swam after Minos, King Nisos, having been transformed into a sea eagle,
                     attempted to drown her. Instead of drowning, Scylla was turned to a sea bird and
                     called Ciris, (i.e. "cutter"), being named after the lock that she cut off. See Ovid's
                        <hi rend="italic">Metamorphoses</hi>, translated by Anthony S. Kline,
                     http://ovid.lib.virginia.edu/trans/Metamorph8.htm </note>
                            </quote>
               <bibl>
                                <lb/>
                                <persName>OVID.</persName>
                            </bibl>
               <lb/>
            </epigraph>
            <lb/>
            <docImprint>
               <pubPlace>
                  <hi rend="italic">
                                    <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">LONDON</placeName>
                                </hi>
               </pubPlace>
                            <lb/> Printed for Bernard Lintott, at the<lb/>
               <hi rend="italic"> Cross-keys</hi> in <hi rend="italic">Fleetstreet</hi>.<docDate>
                  1714.
               </docDate>
            </docImprint>
         </titlePage>

         <pb n="[Epistle.1]" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:epistle.i.jpg"/>
         <div type="epistle">
            <head> TO <lb/>
               <ref target="Arabella_" corresp="Arabella">Mrs. ARABELLA FERMOUR.</ref>
               <lb/>
               <note xml:id="Arabella" target="Arabella_" type="editorial" resp="#JOB">Arabella Fermor
                  (1696-1737; image credit: Victoria and Albert Museum) <graphic url="https://s3.amazonaws.com/lic-assets-staging/Pope/Arabella-Fermor.jpg"/>was from a prominent Catholic family. 
                  She came to public attention in an unwelcome way when Robert Petre, from another
                  prominent Catholic family, surreptitiously cut off a lock of her hair at a party. 
                  He may have thought it was a good prank, but she was
                  (justifiably) angry, and the Fermor and Petre families (who may have been in
                  negotiations to marry the two), became estranged. John Caryll, a friend of Pope's
                  who was also Robert Petre's guardian, asked Pope to write about the incident in such a
                  way as to make a joke of it and smooth relations. <hi rend="italic">The Rape of
                     the Lock</hi> is Pope's effort to heal the breach. He did not, however, ask
                  Arabella Fermor for her approval before publishing the first version of the poem
                  in 1712, and she was initially unhappy at the poem's double-entendre and the way
                  that it seemed to compare her situation to raped heroines of antiquity like Helen
                  of Troy or Lucrece. This letter, published with the much-enlarged 1714 edition of
                  the poem, can be read in part as Pope's attempt to mollify her.</note>
               <lb/>
            </head>
            <salute>MADAM,</salute>
            <p>
               <lb/> It will be in vain to deny that I have some value for this piece, since I <ref target="dedicate_" corresp="dedicate">dedicate</ref>
               <note xml:id="dedicate" target="dedicate" type="gloss">Pope is probably referring to the
                  Latin epigraph that appeared with the first edition of the poem: "Nolueram,
                  Belinda, tuos violare capillos, / Sed juvat hoc precibus me tribuisse tuis," by
                  the Roman poet Martial, in his <hi rend="italic">Epigrams</hi> xii, 84, translates as, "I was loathe,
                  Belinda, to violate your locks, but I am pleased to have granted that much to your
                  prayers." Pope is insinuating that Arabella Fermor asked for the poem to be
                  written. This was not the case.</note> it to you. Yet you may bear me witness, it
               was intended only to divert a few young <pb n="[Epistle.2]" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:epistle.ii.jpg"/> Ladies, who have good sense and good
               Humour enough, to laugh not only at their sex's little unguarded Follies, but at
               their own. But as it was communicated with the Air of a Secret, it soon found its Way
               into the World. An imperfect Copy having been offer'd to a Bookseller, You had the Good-Nature for my Sake to consent to
               the publication of one more correct: This I was forc'd to before I had executed half
               my Design, for the <hi rend="italic">
                                <ref target="machinery_" corresp="machinery">Machinery</ref>
                            </hi>
               <note xml:id="machinery" target="machinery_" type="gloss">Refers to the fairy-like creatures
                   in the poem: the sylphys, the nymphs, the gnomes, the salamanders. As he
                  explains in the next line, they are the portrayals of what we would call in the
                  real world, deities, angels or demons.</note> was entirely wanting to compleat it. </p>
            <p> The <hi rend="italic">Machinery</hi> Madam, is a Term invented by the Critiks, to
               signify that Part which the Deities, Angels, or Dæmons, are made to act in a poem:
               For the ancient Poets are in one respect like <pb n="[Epistle.3]" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:epistle.iii.jpg"/> many modern Ladies; Let an Action be
               never so trivial in it self, they always make it appear of the utmost Importance.
               These Machines I determin'd to raise on a very new and odd Foundation, the <hi rend="italic">
                                <ref target="Rosicrucian_" corresp="Rosicrucian">Rosicrucian</ref>
                            </hi>
               <note xml:id="Rosicrucian" target="Rosicrucian_" type="gloss">The Rosicrusians were an occult movement that emerged in the early seventeenth century in Europe. It was an odd combination of Christian mysticism and other kinds of esoteric teaching, such as the Kabbala, which comes out of the Jewish tradition. There were several Rosicrucian manifestos that laid out theories of mystical knowledge, and the movement had adherents and drew curious thinkers to it throughout Europe in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Pope does not seem to have been a serious adherent, but is here using some of the supernatural apparatus associated with Rosicrucianism to frame his story.</note> Doctrine of Spirits.</p>
            <p>
               I know how disagreeable it is to make use of hard Words before a <ref target="Lady_" corresp="Lady">Lady</ref>
               <note xml:id="Lady" target="Lady_" type="gloss">It seems unlikely that Pope is aware how unctuous and condescending he sounds here; or perhaps he is aware and does not mind. It's hard to say with Pope.</note>; but 'tis so much the Concern of a Poet to have his Works understood, and particularly by your Sex, that You must give me leave to explain two or three
               difficult Terms. </p>
            <p>The <hi rend="italic">Rosicrucians</hi> are the People I must bring You
               acquainted with. The best Account I know of them is in the French Book call'd
                  <ref target="Gabalis_" corresp="Gabalis">Le Comte de
                     Gabalis</ref>,
               <note xml:id="Gabalis" target="Gabalis_" type="gloss">
                                <hi rend="italic">The Count of Gabala</hi> was written by Nicolas-Pierre-Henri of Montfaucon de Villars, a French cleric, and published in 1670. It is an odd book. In it, an anonymous narrator encounters the Comte de Gabalis, who teaches the narrator about the occult, including various beliefs associated with the Rosicrucians. The Count introduces such things as the Sylphs of the Air, the Undines of the Water, the Gnomes of the Earth and the Salamanders of Fire. It is entirely possible that de Villars is satirizing occult sciences, which had a vogue in seventeenth century Europe, as absurd or incompatible with orthodox religion. But it is hard to be sure; this may be an example of a satire that does not make its intentions clear enough.</note> which <pb n="[Epistle.4]" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:epistle.iv.jpg"/> both in its Title and
               Size is so like a <hi rend="italic">Novel,</hi> that many of the fair Sex have read
               it for one by <ref target="novel_" corresp="novel">Mistake.</ref>
               <note xml:id="novel" target="novel_" type="gloss"> To an English reader
                  of 1714, the word "novel" still sounded like a French import, and it would have
                  denoted a short, perhaps slightly scandalous, love story. The novel was not
                  understood to be a serious genre, a form of literature. Any reading of a novel for
                  more than entertainment is a "mistake." </note> According to these Gentlemen, the four Elements are
               inhabited by Spirits, which they call <hi rend="italic">Sylphs, Gnomes, Nymphs,</hi>
               and <hi rend="italic">Salamanders.</hi> The <hi rend="italic">Gnomes,</hi> or Dæmons
               of Earth, delight in Mischief; but the <hi rend="italic">Sylphs,</hi> whose
               Habitation is Air, are the best-condition'd Creatures imaginable. For the say, any
               Mortals may enjoy the most intimate Fa miliarities with these gentle Spirits, upon a
               Condition very easie to all true <hi rend="italic">Adepts,</hi> an involate
               Preservation of Chastity. </p>

            <p>
               As to the following Canto's, all the Passages of them are as Fabulous, as the
               Vision at the beginning, or the Transformation at the End; (except the Loss of your
                  <pb n="[Epistle.5]" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:epistle.v.jpg"/> Hair, which I always
               name with Reverence.) The Human Persons are as Fictitious as the Airy ones; and the
               Character of <hi rend="italic">Belinda,</hi> as it is now manag'd, resembles You in
               nothing but in Beauty. </p>

            <p>
              If this Poem had as many Graces as there are in Your Person, or in Your Mind,
               yet I could never hope it should pass thro' the World half so Uncensured as You have
               done. But let its Fortune be what it will, mine is happy enough, to have given me
               this Occasion of assuring You that I am. with the truest Esteem, </p>
            <closer>
             
                  <hi rend="italic">Madam,</hi>
                  <lb/>
                  <hi rend="italic">Your Most Obedient</hi>
                  <lb/>
                  <hi rend="italic">Humble Servant.</hi>
               
               <lb/>
               <lb/>
               <signed>
                  <persName>A. POPE.</persName>
                  <lb/>
               </signed>
            </closer>
         </div>
      </front>
      <body>

         <div type="engraving">
            
               <pb n="[Engraving]" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:canto1.image.jpg"/>
            <head>
                            <ref target="Figure_1_" corresp="Figure_1">Figure 1</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Figure_1" target="Figure_1_">
                                <graphic url="PageImages/Pope-RL:canto1.image.jpg"/>
                            </note>
                        </head>
            
         </div>

         <pb n="1" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.1.jpg"/>

         <div n="1" type="canto">
            <head> THE <lb/> RAPE <hi rend="italic">of the</hi> LOCK.<lb/>
                        </head>
               <head type="subtitle">
                            <hi rend="italic">CANTO I.</hi>
            </head>
            <l n="1">WHAT dire Offence from am'rous Causes springs,</l>
            <l n="2">What mighty Quarrels rise from Trivial Things,</l>
            <l n="3"> I sing -- This Verse to <hi rend="italic">
                                <ref target="caryll_" corresp="caryll">C---l</ref>
                            </hi>
               <note xml:id="caryll" target="caryll_" type="gloss">John Caryll, the mutual friend of Pope and the two families involved in the dispute; he seems to have attempted to mediate between them, in part suggesting that Pope write this poem.</note>, Muse! is due; </l>
            <l n="6"> This, ev'n <hi rend="italic">
                                <ref target="Belinda_" corresp="Belinda">Belinda</ref>
                            </hi>
               <note xml:id="Belinda" target="Belinda_" type="gloss">The heroine of the poem, inspired by
                  Arabella Fermor.</note> may
               vouchsafe to view: </l>
            <l n="7">Slight is the Subject, but not so the Praise,</l>
            <l n="8">If She inspire, and He approve my Lays.</l>

            <pb n="2" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.2.jpg"/>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">

               <l n="1">Say what strange Motive, Goddess! cou'd compel</l>
               <l n="2"> A well-bred <hi rend="italic">Lord</hi> t'assault a gentle <hi rend="italic">Belle?</hi>
               </l>
               <l n="3">Oh say what stranger Cause, yet unexplor'd,</l>
               <l n="4"> Cou'd make a gentle <hi rend="italic">Belle</hi> reject a <hi rend="italic">Lord</hi> ? </l>
               <l n="5">And dwells such Rage in softest Bosoms then?</l>
               <l n="6">And lodge such daring Souls in Little Men?</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="7">
                                <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Sol_" corresp="Sol">Sol</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Sol" target="Sol_" type="gloss">Sol is Latin for the Sun.</note> thro' white Curtains did his Beams display,</l>
               <l n="8"> And op'd those Eyes which brighter shine than they; </l>
               <l n="9"> Now <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Shock_" corresp="Shock">Shock</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Shock" target="Shock_" type="gloss">Belinda's lapdog.</note> had giv'n himself
                  the rowzing Shake, </l>
               <l n="10"> And Nymphs prepar'd their <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="chocolate_" corresp="chocolate">Chocolate</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="chocolate" target="chocolate_" type="gloss">Chocolate, served in this period only
                     as a drink, was enormously popular, especially among those who could afford it as well
                     as the sugar to cut the bitterness.</note> to take; </l>
               <l n="11">
                  <ref target="slipper_" corresp="slipper">Thrice the wrought Slipper knock'd against the
                     Ground,</ref>
                  <note xml:id="slipper" target="slipper_" type="gloss">Belinda stomps her slippered foot on the
                  ground to call for her maid.</note>
                            </l>
               <l n="12">And <ref target="watches_" corresp="watches">striking Watches </ref>
                  <note xml:id="watches" target="watches_" type="gloss">Striking watches indicate the hour
                     and quarter-hour by means of hammers hitting bells or gongs. The watch rang,
                     announcing that it was 10 o'clock.</note>the
                  tenth Hour resound.</l>
               <l n="13">
                  <hi rend="italic">Belinda</hi> still her downy Pillow prest, </l>
               <l n="14"> Her Guardian <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="sylph_" corresp="sylph">Sylph</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="sylph" target="sylph_" type="gloss">sylphs here are imagined as feminine spirits that
                  stand guard over young women</note>
                  prolong'd the balmy Rest.</l>
               <l n="15">
                                <ref target="Ariel_" corresp="Ariel">'Twas he </ref>
                  <note xml:id="Ariel" target="Ariel_" type="gloss">Ariel, Belinda's guardian Sylph,
                     created the dream that she was having.</note>had summon'd to her silent Bed</l>
               <l n="16">The Morning Dream that hover'd o'er her Head.</l>
               <l n="17"> A Youth more glitt'ring than a <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="beau_" corresp="beau">Birth-night Beau</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="beau" target="beau_" type="gloss">a young man dressed up for the Queen's birthday, one of 
                     highlights of the social calendar in this period.</note>, </l>
               <l n="18"> (That ev'n in Slumber caus'd her Cheek to glow) <pb n="3" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.3.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="19">Seem'd to her Ear his winning Lips to lay,</l>
               <l n="20">And thus in Whispers said, or seem'd to say.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="21">Fairest of Mortals, thou distinguish'd Care</l>
               <l n="22">Of thousand bright Inhabitants of Air!</l>
               <l n="23">If e'er one Vision touch'd thy infant Thought,</l>
               <l n="24">Of all the Nurse and all the Priest have taught,</l>
               <l n="25">Of airy Elves by Moonlight Shadows seen,</l>
               <l n="26">The <ref target="Token_" corresp="                   Token">silver Token</ref>
                                <note xml:id="Token" target="Token_" type="gloss">Folklore that says that fairies and elves left
                     silver tokens in rings of dark coarse grass that were supposed to be where
                     fairies danced. The tokens were supposedly left for humans who were favored by
                     fairies. Pat Rogers attributes the use to Jonathan Swift's <hi rend="italic">Dryades: Or, the
                        Nymphs Prophesy</hi>, although that probably comes from ancient folklore as well.
                  Rogers, Pat. "Faery Lore and The Rape of the Lock." <hi rend="italic">Essays on Pope</hi>. Cambridge:
                     Cambridge UP, 1993. Print.</note>, and the circled Green,</l>
               <l n="27">Or Virgins visited by Angel-Pow'rs,</l>
               <l n="28"> With Golden Crowns and Wreaths of heav'nly Flowers, </l>
               <l n="29">Hear and believe! thy own Importance know,</l>
               <l n="30">Nor bound thy narrow Views to Things below.</l>
               <l n="31">Some secret Truths from Learned Pride conceal'd,</l>
               <l n="32">To Maids alone and Children are reveal'd:</l>
               <l n="33">What tho' no Credit doubting Wits may give?</l>
               <l n="34">The Fair and Innocent shall still believe.</l>
               <l n="35">Know then, unnumbered Spirits round thee fly,</l>
               <l n="36"> The light <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="militia_" corresp="militia">Militia</ref>
                                </hi>
                                <note xml:id="militia" target="militia_" type="gloss">fairy creatures, imagined here as soldiers</note> of the lower Sky; <pb n="4" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.4.jpg"/>
               </l>

               <l n="37">These, tho' unseen, are ever <ref target="wing_" corresp="wing">on the
                     Wing</ref>
                                <note xml:id="wing" target="wing_" type="gloss">The creatures are
                     always present (on the wing meaning in flight) in the places where London's
                     society is found.</note>,</l>
               <l n="38"> Hang o'er the <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="box_" corresp="box">Box</ref>
                                </hi>
                                <note xml:id="box" target="box_" type="gloss">A ‘box’ in a
                     theatre or opera-house.</note> , and hover round the <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="ring_" corresp="ring">Ring</ref>
                                </hi>
                                <note xml:id="ring" target="ring_" type="gloss">Ring - Charles I created a circular track called the
                     Ring in Hyde Park where members of the royal court could drive their carriages.
                     The park was opened to the public in 1637 and it soon became a fashionable
                     place to visit.</note>. </l>
               <l n="39">Think what an <ref target="equipage_" corresp="equipage">Equipage</ref>
                                <note xml:id="equipage" target="equipage_" type="gloss">Here it refers to a carriage with
                     horses and attendants, but can also just mean carriage alone.</note> thou hast in Air,</l>
               <l n="40"> And view with scorn <hi rend="italic">Two
                     Pages</hi> and a <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="chair_" corresp="chair">Chair</ref>
                                </hi>
                                <note xml:id="chair" target="chair_" type="gloss">two servants carrying
                        a woman in a sedan chair</note>. </l>
               <l n="41">As now your own, our Beings were of old,</l>
               <l n="42">And <ref target="mold_" corresp="mold">once inclos'd in Woman's beauteous
                     Mold</ref>
                                <note xml:id="mold" target="mold_" type="gloss">The fairy creatures
                     used to be beautiful women like Belinda.</note>;</l>
               <l n="43">Thence, by a <ref target="transition_" corresp="transition">soft Transition</ref>
                                <note xml:id="transition" target="transition_" type="gloss">Possibly death, or some (magical)
                     means by which they are transformed from their human selves in to the fairy
                     creatures.</note>, we repair</l>
               <l n="44">From earthly Vehicles to those of Air.</l>
               <l n="45">Think not, when Woman's transient Breath is fled,</l>
               <l n="46">That all her Vanities at once are dead:</l>
               <l n="47">Succeeding Vanities she still regards,</l>
               <l n="48">And tho' she plays no more, o'erlooks the <ref target="cards_" corresp="cards">Cards.</ref>
                  <note xml:id="cards" target="cards_" type="gloss"> After the "transition" spoken of
                     earlier, a former coquette now turned into a sylph still can see and look at the cards
                     although she does not play.</note>.</l>
               <l n="49">Her Joy in gilded Chariots, when alive,</l>
               <l n="50"> And Love of <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Ombre_" corresp="Ombre">Ombre</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Ombre" target="Ombre_" type="gloss">A trick-taking card game for three
                     people using forty cards. A game of ombre is played later on and is described
                     in detail in Canto III. It is almost certainly no coincidence that the word
                     ombre is archaic Spanish for "man"; Belinda is literally and figuratively
                     playing the game of man."</note>, after Death survive. </l>
               <l n="51">For when the Fair in all their Pride expire,</l>
               <l n="52">To their first Elements the Souls retire;</l>
               <l n="53">
                                <ref target="sprights_" corresp="sprights">The Sprights of fiery Termagants in
                     Flame</ref>
                  <note xml:id="sprights" target="sprights_" type="gloss">Different kinds of women became transformed into different kinds of spirits. The fiery boisterous women became Salamanders.
                     The mild demure women became Nymphs. The prudish women became Gnomes. The
                     flirty girlish women became Sylphs.</note>
                            </l>
               <l n="54"> Mount up, and take a <hi rend="italic">Salamander</hi>'s Name. </l>
               <l n="55">Soft yielding Minds to Water glide away,</l>
               <l n="56"> And sip with <hi rend="italic">Nymphs</hi>, their Elemental Tea.</l>
               <pb n="5" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.5.jpg"/>
               <l n="57"> The graver Prude sinks downward to a <hi rend="italic">Gnome</hi> , </l>
               <l n="58">In search of Mischief still on Earth to roam.</l>
               <l n="59"> The light Coquettes in <hi rend="italic">Sylphs</hi> aloft repair, </l>
               <l n="60">And sport and flutter in the Fields of Air.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="61">Know farther yet; Whoever fair and chaste</l>
               <l n="62"> Rejects Mankind, is by some <hi rend="italic">Sylph</hi> embrac'd: </l>
               <l n="63">For Spirits, freed from mortal Laws, with ease</l>
               <l n="64">Assume what Sexes and what Shapes they please.</l>
               <l n="65">What guards the Purity of melting Maids,</l>
               <l n="66">In Courtly Balls, and Midnight Masquerades,</l>
               <l n="67"> Safe from the treach'rous Friend, and daring Spark, </l>
               <l n="68">The Glance by Day, the Whisper in the Dark;</l>
               <l n="69">When kind Occasion prompts their warm Desires,</l>
               <l n="70">When Musick softens, and when Dancing fires?</l>
               <l n="71"> 'Tis but their <hi rend="italic">Sylph</hi>, the wise Celestials know, </l>
               <l n="72"> Tho' <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="honour_" corresp="honour">Honour</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="honour" target="honour_" type="gloss">That is, women's chastity only seems to 
                    be governed by honour; it is really the intervention of the sylphs that sustains chastity.</note> is the Word with Men below. </l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="73"> Some Nymphs there are, too conscious of their Face, </l>
               <l n="74"> For Life predestin'd to the <hi rend="italic">Gnomes</hi> Embrace</l>
               <pb n="6" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.6.jpg"/>

               <l n="75">Who swell their Prospects and exalt their Pride,</l>
               <l n="76">When Offers are disdain'd, and Love deny'd.</l>
               <l n="77">Then gay Ideas crowd the vacant Brain;</l>
               <l n="78"> While Peers and Dukes, and all their sweeping Train, </l>
               <l n="79">And Garters, Stars, and Coronets appear,</l>
               <l n="80"> And in soft Sounds, <hi rend="italic">Your Grace</hi> salutes their Ear. </l>
               <l n="81">'Tis these that early taint the Female Soul,</l>
               <l n="82"> Instruct the Eyes of young <hi rend="italic">Coquettes</hi> to roll, </l>
               <l n="83">Teach Infants Cheeks a bidden Blush to know,</l>
               <l n="84"> And little Hearts to flutter at a <hi rend="italic">Beau</hi>. </l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="85">Oft when the World imagine Women stray,</l>
               <l n="86"> The <hi rend="italic">Sylphs</hi> thro' mystick Mazes guide their Way, </l>
               <l n="87">Thro' all the giddy Circle they pursue,</l>
               <l n="88">And old Impertinence expel by new.</l>
               <l n="89">What tender Maid but must a Victim fall</l>
               <l n="90">To one Man's Treat, but for another's Ball?</l>
               <l n="91"> When <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="florio_" corresp="florio">Florio</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="florio" target="florio_" type="gloss">Not a reference to any specific
                     men. Florio, along with Damon, were common names used in early epic poetry to
                     refer to men in general, the way we use, Tom, Dick, and Harry, today. "The
                     aristocratic young men of the time were, like the ladies, lacking in any
                     serious purpose or morality. Florio and Damon are representatives of those
                     gallants and fops who vie with one another to capture the hearts of the
                     ladies.</note>
                  speaks, what Virgin could withstand, </l>
               <l n="92"> If gentle <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="a052" corresp="n051">Damon</ref>
                                </hi> did not squeeze her Hand? <pb n="7" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.7.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="93">With varying Vanities, from ev'ry Part,</l>
               <l n="94">They shift the moving Toyshop of their Heart;</l>
               <l n="95">Where Wigs with Wigs, with Sword-knots Sword-knots strive, </l>
               <l n="96">Beaus banish Beaus, and Coaches Coaches drive.</l>
               <l n="97">This erring Mortals Levity may call,</l>
               <l n="98"> Oh blind to Truth! the <hi rend="italic">Sylphs</hi> contrive it all. </l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="99">Of these am I, who thy Protection claim,</l>
               <l n="100"> A watchful Sprite, and <hi rend="italic">Ariel</hi> is my Name. </l>
               <l n="101">Late, as I rang'd the Crystal Wilds of Air,</l>
               <l n="102"> In the clear Mirror of thy ruling <hi rend="italic">Star</hi>
               </l>
               <l n="103">I saw, alas! some dread Event impend,</l>
               <l n="104">E're to the <ref target="main_" corresp="main">Main</ref>
                  <note xml:id="main" target="main_" type="gloss">the open sea</note>
                  this Morning's Sun descend.</l>
               <l n="105">But Heav'n reveals not what, or how, or where:</l>
               <l n="106"> Warn'd by thy <hi rend="italic">Sylph</hi>, oh Pious Maid beware! </l>
               <l n="107">This to disclose is all thy Guardian can.</l>
               <l n="108">Beware of all, but most beware of Man!</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="109">He said; when <hi rend="italic">Shock</hi>, who thought she
                  slept too long, </l>
               <l n="110">Leapt up, and wak'd his Mistress with his Tongue. <pb n="8" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.8.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="111">'Twas then <hi rend="italic">Belinda</hi>! if Report say true, </l>
               <l n="112">Thy Eyes first open'd on a <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="billet-doux_" corresp="billet-doux">Billet-doux</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="billet-doux" target="billet-doux_" type="gloss"> a love letter</note>; </l>
               <l n="113">
                  <hi rend="italic">Wounds, Charms</hi>, and <hi rend="italic">Ardors</hi>, were no
                  sooner read </l>
               <l n="114">But all the Vision vanish'd from thy Head.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="114">And now, unveil'd, the <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="toilet_" corresp="toilet">Toilet</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="toilet" target="toilet_" type="gloss">a small dressing table</note> stands display'd, </l>
               <l n="116">Each Silver Vase in mystic Order laid.</l>
               <l n="117">First, rob'd in White, the Nymph intent adores</l>
               <l n="118"> With Head uncover'd, the <hi rend="italic">cosmetic</hi> Pow'rs. </l>
               <l n="119">A heav'nly Image in the <ref target="glass_" corresp="glass">Glass</ref>
                  <note xml:id="glass" target="glass_" type="gloss">mirror</note> appears,</l>
               <l n="120">To that she bends, to that her Eyes she rears;</l>
               <l n="121">Th' inferior Priestess, at her <ref target="altar_" corresp="altar">Altar's</ref>
                  <note xml:id="altar" target="altar_" type="gloss">Belinda's "toilet" is likened to an
                     "altar" at which Belinda and her maid are now left to worship the priestess, or
                     Belinda's "heav'nly image" as mentioned two lines above this line. By this
                     point, it has become clear that the vanity nurtured by the Gnomes has set in,
                     leaving the mortal human beings to worship a new priestess, Belinda's
                     reflection.</note>side,</l>
               <l n="122">Trembling, begins the sacred Rites of Pride</l>
               <l n="123">Unnumber'd Treasures ope at once, and here</l>
               <l n="124">The various <ref target="world_" corresp="world">Off'rings of the World </ref>
                  <note xml:id="world" target="world_" type="gloss">During the 18th century, Britain
                     became the dominant empire among European trading empires as it became the
                     first western nation to industrialize. During this time, merchants began
                     trading with both North America and the West Indies, where colonies had been
                     established. This granted Britain access to parts of the world and their
                     amenities that had previously been unbeknownst to them. The ability to interact
                     with far-off countries such as India and Arabia yielded new luxuries and a new
                     understanding of the world outside of Europe. The ability for Belinda to have
                     access to these luxuries further exemplifies her wealth.
                     </note>appear;</l>
               <l n="125">From each she nicely culls with curious Toil,</l>
               <l n="126">And decks the Goddess with the <ref target="spoil_" corresp="spoil">glitt'ring Spoil</ref>
                                <note xml:id="spoil" target="spoil_" type="gloss">"Glitt'ring spoil" refers directly to the spoils of war, "valuables seized by
                     violence, especially in war," most likely as a result of the colonization of
                     these foreign lands in pursuit of broadening trade opportunities. </note>.</l>
               <l n="127"> This <ref target="casket_" corresp="casket">Casket</ref>
                  <note xml:id="casket" target="casket_" type="gloss">a. A small box or chest for jewels,
                     letters, or other things of value, itself often of valuable material and richly
                     ornamented.</note>
                  <hi rend="italic">India</hi>'s glowing <ref target="gems_" corresp="gems">Gems</ref>
                  <note xml:id="gems" target="gems_" type="gloss">Since before recorded history,
                     India has been a leading source for precious gems, producing some of the finest
                     gemstones. </note> unlocks, </l>
               <l n="128"> And all <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Arabia_" corresp="Arabia">Arabia</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Arabia" target="Arabia_" type="gloss">Refers to scented oils or perfumes
                     from the Arabian Peninsula or the middle east. as it is now known. They came in
                     elaborate and ornate containers and were very expensive.</note> breaths from
                  yonder Box. <pb n="9" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.9.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="129">The <ref target="tortoise_" corresp="tortoise">Tortoise here and Elephant </ref>
                  <note xml:id="tortoise" target="tortoise_" type="gloss">Hair combs made
                    from tortoise shell and ivory from elephant tusks.</note>unite,</l>
               <l n="130"> Transform'd to <hi rend="italic">Combs</hi>, the speckled and the white. </l>
               <l n="131">Here Files of Pins extend their shining Rows,</l>
               <l n="132">Puffs, Powders, <ref target="patches_" corresp="patches">Patches</ref>
                                <note xml:id="patches" target="patches_" type="gloss">"a small disk of black silk attached
                     to the face, especially as worn by women in the 17th and 18th centuries for
                     adornment" (Oxford English Dictionary) This is essentially an artificial beauty mark. </note>, Bibles, Billet-doux.</l>
               <l n="133">Now <ref target="awful_" corresp="awful">awful</ref>
                  <note xml:id="awful" target="awful_" type="gloss">in the sense of "awe-inspiring"</note>Beauty puts on all its <ref target="arms_" corresp="arms">Arms</ref>
                                <note xml:id="arms" target="arms_" type="gloss">Arms: (n.) weapons
                     With the use of militaristic diction as seen in "puts in all its Arms", Pope
                     has Belinda preparing for battle just as Achilles prepared for the Trojan War in Homer's <hi rend="italic">Iliad.</hi>
                                </note>;</l>
               <l n="134">The Fair each moment rises in her Charms,</l>
               <l n="135">Repairs her Smiles, awakens ev'ry Grace,</l>
               <l n="136">And calls forth all the Wonders of her Face;</l>
               <l n="137">Sees by Degrees a purer Blush arise,</l>
               <l n="138">And keener Lightnings quicken in her Eyes.</l>
               <l n="139"> The busy <hi rend="italic">Sylphs</hi> surround their darling Care; </l>
               <l n="140">These set the Head, and those divide the Hair,</l>
               <l n="141">Some fold the Sleeve, while others plait the Gown;</l>
               <l n="142"> And <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Betty_" corresp="Betty">Betty</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Betty" target="Betty_" type="gloss">her maid.</note>'s prais'd for Labours not her own. </l>
            </lg>
         </div>
         <div type="engraving">
               <pb n="Engraving" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:canto2.image.jpg"/>
            <head>
                            <ref target="Figure_2_" corresp="Figure_2">Figure 2</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Figure_2" target="Figure_2_">
                                <graphic url="PageImages/Pope-RL:canto2.image.jpg"/>
                            </note>
                        </head> 
         </div>
         <pb n="10" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.10.jpg"/>
         <div n="2" type="canto">
            <head> THE RAPE <hi rend="italic">of the</hi> LOCK. <lb/>
                        </head>
            <head type="subtitle">
               <hi rend="italic">CANTO II.</hi>
            </head>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">

               <l n="1">NOT with more Glories, in th' <ref target="etherial_" corresp="etherial">Etherial</ref>
                  <note xml:id="etherial" target="etherial_" type="gloss">Of or relating to heaven, God, or
                     the gods; heavenly, celestial. <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note>Plain,</l>
               <l n="2">The Sun first rises o'er the purpled Main,</l>
               <l n="3">Than issuing forth, the <ref target="rival_" corresp="rival">Rival</ref>
                  <note xml:id="rival" target="rival_" type="gloss">that is, Belinda is as bright as the sun</note> of his Beams</l>
               <l n="4"> Lanch'd on the Bosom of the Silver <hi rend="italic">Thames</hi>. </l>
               <l n="5">
                  <ref target="nymphs_" corresp="nymphs">Fair Nymphs</ref>
                                <note xml:id="nymphs" target="nymphs_" type="gloss">The other women traveling with her (here not the nymphs
                     who are the protectors of her chastity).</note>, and well-drest Youths around
                  her shone, </l>
               <l n="6">But ev'ry Eye was fix'd on her alone.</l>
               <l n="7"> On her white Breast a sparkling <hi rend="italic">Cross</hi> she wore, </l>
               <l n="8"> Which <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="cross_" corresp="cross">Jews</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="cross" target="cross" type="gloss">The cross here is stripped of its Christian 
                  meaning; it is Belinda who people are now worshipping</note> might kiss, and Infidels adore. </l>
               <pb n="11" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.11.jpg"/>
               <l> </l>
               <l n="9">Her lively Looks a sprightly Mind disclose,</l>
               <l n="10">Quick as her Eyes, and as unfix'd as those:</l>
               <l n="11">Favours to none, to all she Smiles extends,</l>
               <l n="12">Oft she rejects, but never once offends.</l>
               <l n="13">Bright as the Sun, her Eyes the Gazers strike,</l>
               <l n="14">And, like the sun,they shine on all alike.</l>
               <l n="15">Yet graceful Ease, and Sweetness void of Pride,</l>
               <l n="16"> Might hide her Faults, if <hi rend="italic">Belles</hi> had faults to
                  hide: </l>
               <l n="17">If to her share some Female Errors fall,</l>
               <l n="18">Look on her Face, and you'll forget 'em all.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="19">This <ref target="nymph_" corresp="nymph">Nymph</ref>
                                <note xml:id="nymph" target="nymph_" type="gloss">Belinda</note>, to the Destruction of
                  Mankind,</l>
               <l n="20">Nourish'd two Locks, which graceful hung behind</l>
               <l n="21">In equal Curls, and well conspir'd to deck</l>
               <l n="22">With shining Ringlets her smooth <ref target="ivory_" corresp="ivory">Iv'ry</ref>
                  <note xml:id="ivory" target="ivory_" type="gloss">In likening Belinda's neck
                     to ivory, imported from Africa, the narrator again associates her beauty with the products of
                     emergent colonialism and global commerce.</note>Neck.</l>
               <l n="23">Love in these Labyrinths his Slaves detains,</l>
               <l n="24">And mighty Hearts are held in slender Chains.</l>
               <l n="25">With hairy <ref target="sprindges_" corresp="sprindges">Sprindges</ref>
                  <note xml:id="sprindges" target="sprindges_" type="gloss">a snare used for bird-catching</note> we the Birds betray,</l>
               <l n="26"> Slight Lines of Hair surprize the <ref target="finney_" corresp="finney">Finny
                     Prey</ref>
                  <note xml:id="finney" target="finney_" type="gloss">Finny, adj., "Provided with or
                     having fins; finned." The "Finny Prey&gt; refers to fish, which are also caught
                     with a hair-like line, reiterating the comparison of beauty as a deadly trap.
                     "finny, adj.1." <hi rend="italic"> Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note>, <pb n="12" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.12.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="27">Fair <ref target="tresses_" corresp="tresses">Tresses</ref>
                  <note xml:id="tresses" target="tresses_" type="gloss">" A plait or braid of the hair
                     of the head, usually of a woman. A long lock of hair (esp. that of a woman),
                     without any sense of its being plaited or braided; mostly in pl. tresses."
                     "tress, n."  <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note>
                  Man's Imperial Race insnare,</l>
               <l n="28">And Beauty draws us with a single Hair.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="29"> Th' Adventrous <hi rend="italic">
                     Baron</hi>  the bright Locks admir'd, </l>
               <l n="30">He saw, he wish'd, and to the Prize aspir'd:</l>
               <l n="31">Resolv'd to win, he meditates the way,</l>
               <l n="32">By Force to ravish, or by Fraud
                  betray;</l>
               <l n="33">For when <ref target="success_" corresp="success">Success</ref>
                  <note xml:id="success" target="successs_" type="gloss">The "Success" of a "Lover's Toil"
                     in this era would be marriage.</note> a Lover's Toil attends,</l>
               <l n="34">Few ask, if Fraud or Force attain'd his Ends.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="35"> For this, e're <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Phaebus_" corresp="Phaebus">Phaebus</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Phaebus" target="Phaebus_" type="gloss">Variant spelling of Phoebus, a
                     common name for Apollo, god of the sun. <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note> rose, he had
                  implor'd </l>
               <l n="36">Propitious Heav'n, and ev'ry Pow'r ador'd,</l>
               <l n="37"> But chiefly <hi rend="italic">Love</hi> ---to <hi rend="italic">Love</hi>
                  an Altar built, </l>
               <l n="38"> Of twelve vast <hi rend="italic">French</hi> Romances, neatly gilt. </l>
               <l n="39"> There lay the <ref target="sword-knot_" corresp="sword-knot">Sword-knot</ref>
                  <note xml:id="sword-knot" target="sword-knot_" type="gloss">"n. a ribbon or tassel tied to the
                     hilt of a sword (originating from the thong or lace with which the hilt was
                     fastened to the wrist, but later used chiefly as a mere ornament or badge)."
                     "sword-knot, n." <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note>
                  <hi rend="italic">Sylvia</hi>'s Hands had sown, </l>
               <l n="40"> With <hi rend="italic">Flavia's</hi>
                  <ref target="busk_" corresp="busk">Busk</ref>
                  <note xml:id="busk" target="busk_" type="gloss">"A strip of wood, whalebone, steel,
                     or other rigid material attached vertically to the front section of a corset so
                     as to stiffen and support it." "busk, n.3." <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note> that oft had rapp'd his
                  own:</l>
               <l n="41">A Fan, a Garter, half a Pair of Gloves;</l>
               <l n="42">And all the Trophies of his former Loves.</l>
               <l n="43"> With tender <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="bilet-doux_" corresp="bilet-doux">Bilet-doux</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="bilet-doux" target="bilet_doux_" type="gloss">love letters</note> he lights the Pyre, </l>
               <l n="44"> And breaths three am'rous Sighs to raise the Fire. <pb n="13" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.13.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="45">Then <ref target="prostrate_" corresp="prostrate">prostrate</ref>
                  <note xml:id="prostrate" target="prostrate_" type="gloss">"Of a person: lying with the face
                     to the ground, in token of submission or humility, as in adoration, worship, or
                     supplication; (hence more generally) lying stretched out on the ground,
                     typically with the face downwards. Freq. in predicative or quasi-adverbial use,
                     as in to fall prostrate, to lie prostrate, etc." <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note> falls, and begs with ardent Eyes</l>
               <l n="46">Soon to obtain, and long possess <ref target="Prize_" corresp="Prize">the
                     Prize</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Prize" target="Prize_" type="gloss">"The Prize" refers to Belinda's
                     lock of hair.</note>:</l>
               <l n="47">The Pow'rs <ref target="Ear_" corresp="Ear">gave Ear</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Ear" target="Ear_" type="gloss">"Gave Ear" means that they
                     (the ambiguous supernatural entities) listened to the Baron.</note>, and granted half
                  his Pray'r,</l>
               <l n="48">The rest, the Winds dispers'd in empty Air.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="49">But now secure the <ref target="Vessel_" corresp="Vessel">painted
                     Vessel</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Vessel" target="Vessel_" type="gloss">The "painted Vessel" refers to the
                     boat gliding across the river Thames, carrying Belinda to Hampton Court.</note>glides,</l>
               <l n="50">The Sun-beams trembling on the floating Tydes,</l>
               <l n="51">While melting Musick steals upon the Sky,</l>
               <l n="52">And soften'd Sounds along the Waters die.</l>
               <l n="53">Smooth flow the Waves, the <ref target="zephyrs_" corresp="zephyrs">Zephyrs</ref>
                  <note xml:id="zephyrs" target="zephyrs_" type="gloss">"The west wind, esp. as
                     personified, or the god of the west wind." <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note> gently play</l>
               <l n="54">
                  <hi rend="italic">Belinda</hi> smil'd, and all the World was gay. </l>
               <l n="55"> All but the <hi rend="italic">Sylph</hi> ----With careful Thoughts
                  opprest, </l>
               <l n="56">Th' impending Woe sate heavy on his Breast.</l>
               <l n="57">He summons strait his <ref target="Denizens_" corresp="Denizens">Denizens</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Denizens" target="Denizens_" type="gloss">That is, the other sylphs.</note>of Air;</l>
               <l n="58">The <ref target="lucid_" corresp="lucid">lucid</ref>
                  <note xml:id="lucid" target="lucid_" type="gloss">"Bright, shining, luminous,
                     resplendent." <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note>Squadrons round the Sails repair:</l>
               <l n="59">Soft o'er the Shrouds Aerial Whispers breath,</l>
               <l n="60"> That seem'd but <hi rend="italic">Zephyrs</hi> to the Train beneath. </l>
               <l n="61">Some to the Sun their Insect-Wings unfold,</l>
               <l n="62"> Waft on the Breeze, or sink in Clouds of Gold. <pb n="14" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.14.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="63">Transparent Forms, too fine for mortal Sight,</l>
               <l n="64">Their fluid Bodies half dissolv'd in Light.</l>
               <l n="65">Loose to the Wind their airy Garments flew,</l>
               <l n="66">Thin glitt'ring Textures of the filmy Dew;</l>
               <l n="67">Dipt in the richest <ref target="Tincture_" corresp="Tincture">Tincture</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Tincture" target="Tincture_" type="gloss">"A colouring matter, dye, pigment;
                     spec. a dye used as a cosmetic." <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note>of the Skies,</l>
               <l n="68">Where Light disports in ever-mingling <ref target="Dies_" corresp="Dies">Dies</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Dies" target="Dies_" type="gloss">Variant spelling of "dyes."</note>,</l>
               <l n="69">While ev'ry Beam new transient Colours flings,</l>
               <l n="70"> Colours that change whene'er they wave their Wings. </l>
               <l n="71">Amid the Circle, on the gilded Mast,</l>
               <l n="72"> Superior by the Head, was <hi rend="italic">Ariel</hi> plac'd; </l>
               <l n="73">His Purple <ref target="Pinions_" corresp="Pinions">Pinions</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Pinions" target="Pinions" type="gloss">"A bird's wing; esp. (chiefly poet.
                     and rhetorical) the wing of a bird in flight. Also: the terminal segment of a
                     bird's wing, bearing the primary flight feathers." <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>.</note>opening to the Sun,</l>
               <l n="74">He rais'd his <ref target="Azure_" corresp="Azure">Azure</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Azure" target="Azure_" type="gloss">bright blue</note> Wand, and thus begun.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="75">Ye <hi rend="italic">Sylphs</hi> and <hi rend="italic">Sylphids</hi>, to your <ref target="Chief_" corresp="Chief">Chief</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Chief" target="Chief_" type="gloss">That is, Arial, who goes on to give a speech to the other spirits.</note>give
                  Ear, </l>
               <l n="76">
                  <hi rend="italic">Fays, Fairies, Genii, Elves</hi>, and <hi rend="italic">Daemons</hi> hear! </l>
               <l n="77">Ye know the Spheres and various Tasks assign'd,</l>
               <l n="78">By Laws Eternal, to th' Aerial Kind.</l>
               <l n="79"> Some in the Fields of purest <hi rend="italic">AEther</hi> play, </l>
               <l n="80"> And bask and whiten in the Blaze of Day. <pb n="15" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.15.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="81">Some guide the Course of <ref target="orbs_" corresp="orbs">wandring
                     Orbs</ref>
                  <note xml:id="orbs" target="orbs_" type="gloss">Celestial bodies not in a regular orbit, such as comets.</note> on
                  high,</l>
               <l n="82">Or roll the Planets thro' the boundless Sky.</l>
               <l n="83">Some less refin'd, beneath the Moon's pale Light</l>
               <l n="84">Hover, and catch the shooting stars by Night;</l>
               <l n="85">Or suck the Mists in grosser Air below,</l>
               <l n="86">Or dip their Pinions in the painted <ref target="Bow_" corresp="Bow">Bow</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Bow" target="Bow_" type="gloss">Rainbow</note>,</l>
               <l n="87">Or brew fierce Tempests on the wintry Main.</l>
               <l n="88">Or on the <ref target="glebe_" corresp="glebe">Glebe</ref>
                  <note xml:id="glebe" target="glebe_" type="gloss">Soil</note> distill the kindly Rain.</l>
               <l n="89">Others on Earth o'er human Race preside,</l>
               <l n="90">Watch all their Ways, and all their Actions guide:</l>
               <l n="91">Of these the Chief the Care of Nations own,</l>
               <l n="92"> And guard with Arms Divine the <hi rend="italic">British Throne</hi>.
               </l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="93">Our humbler Province is to tend the <ref target="Fair_" corresp="Fair">Fair</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Fair" target="Fair_" type="gloss">Young women, such as Belinda</note>,</l>
               <l n="94">Not a less pleasing, tho' less glorious Care.</l>
               <l n="95">To save the <ref target="Powder_" corresp="Powder">Powder</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Powder" target="Posder_" type="gloss">Face-powder</note> from too
                  rude a Gale,</l>
               <l n="96">Nor let th' imprison'd Essences exhale,</l>
               <l n="97">To draw fresh Colours from the <ref target="vernal_" corresp="vernal">vernal</ref>
                  <note xml:id="vernal" target="vernal_" type="gloss">"Of, pertaining or belonging to,
                     the springtime; appropriate to the spring; spring-like: Of weather, scenery,
                     etc." <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note> Flow'rs,</l>
               <l n="98"> To steal from Rainbows ere they drop in Show'rs <pb n="16" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.16.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="99">A brighter Wash; to curl their waving Hairs,</l>
               <l n="100">Assist their Blushes, and inspire their Airs;</l>
               <l n="101">Nay oft, in Dreams, Invention we bestow,</l>
               <l n="102"> To change a <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Flounce_" corresp="Flounce">Flounce</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Flounce" target="Flounce_" type="gloss">"An ornamental appendage to the
                     skirt of a lady's dress, consisting of a strip gathered and sewed on by its
                     upper edge around the skirt, and left hanging and waving.’ <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note>, or add a <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Furbelow_" corresp="Furbelow">Furbelo</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Furbelow" target="Furbelow_" type="gloss">Variant spelling of "furbelow: "A
                     piece of stuff pleated and puckered on a gown or petticoat; a flounce; the
                     pleated border of a petticoat or gown." <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>.</note>. </l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="103">This Day, black Omens threat the <ref target="brightest_" corresp="brightest">brightest Fair</ref>
                  <note xml:id="brightest" target="brightest_" type="gloss">That is, Belinda.</note>
                            </l>
               <l n="104">That e'er deserv'd a watchful Spirit's Care;</l>
               <l n="105">Some dire Disaster, or by Force, or Slight,</l>
               <l n="106">But what, or where, the Fates have <ref target="wrapt_" corresp="wrapt">wrapt</ref>
                  <note xml:id="wrapt" target="wrapt_" type="gloss">"Concealed, covered, hidden."
                     "wrapped, adj." <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note>in Night.</l>
               <l n="107"> Whether the Nymph shall break <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Diana_" corresp="Diana">Diana</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Diana" target="Diana_" type="gloss">"An ancient Roman female divinity,
                     the moon-goddess, patroness of virginity and of hunting." <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi> "Diana's" law would be the law of chastity or virginity, so to break the law would be to have pre-marital sex.</note>'s Law, </l>
               <l n="108"> Or some frail <hi rend="italic">China</hi> Jar receive a Flaw, </l>
               <l n="109">Or stain her Honour, or her new <ref target="Brocade_" corresp="Brocade">Brocade</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Brocade" target="Brocade_" type="gloss">"A textile fabric woven with a
                     pattern of raised figures, originally in gold or silver." <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note>,</l>
               <l n="110">Forget her Pray'rs, or miss a Masquerade,</l>
               <l n="111">Or lose her Heart, or Necklace, at a Ball;</l>
               <l n="112"> Or whether Heav'n has doom'd that <hi rend="italic">Shock</hi> must fall. </l>
               <l n="113">Haste then ye Spirits! to your Charge repair;</l>
               <l n="114"> The flutt'ring Fan be <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Zephyretta_" corresp="Zephyretta">Zephyretta</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Zephyretta" target="Zephyretta_" type="gloss">The nymphs' names are invented,
                     each derived from a word related to the object entrusted to it. "Zephyretta,"
                     from "zypher" has care of the breeze-producing fan.</note>'s Care; </l>
               <l n="115"> The Drops to thee, <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Brillant_" corresp="Brillante">Brillante</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Brillante" target="Brillante_" type="gloss">"Brillante," from 'brilliant', is
                     entrusted with Belinda's shining earrings.</note>, we consign; </l>
               <l n="116"> And <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Momentilla_" corresp="Momentilla">Momentilla</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Momentilla" target="Momentilla" type="gloss">"Momentilla" is the nymph in
                     charge of the pocket-watch.</note>, let the Watch be thine; <pb n="17" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.17.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="117"> Do thou, <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Crispissa_" corresp="Crispissa">Crispissa</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Crispissa" target="Crispissa_" type="gloss">"Crispissa," from "crisp," has
                     charge of the two precise curls of hair.</note>, tend her fav'rite Lock; </l>
               <l n="118">
                  <hi rend="italic">Ariel</hi> himself shall be the Guard of <hi rend="italic">Shock</hi>. </l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="119"> To Fifty chosen <hi rend="italic">Sylphs</hi>, of special
                  Note, </l>
               <l n="120"> We trust th' important Charge, the <hi rend="italic">Petticoat</hi> : </l>
               <l n="121">Oft have we known that sev'nfold Fence to fail;</l>
               <l n="122"> Tho' stiff with Hoops, and arm'd with <ref target="Ribs_" corresp="Ribs">Ribs of Whale</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Ribs" target="Ribs_" type="gloss">Whalebone was used to form the ribs in women's corsets and skits.</note>. </l>
               <l n="123">Form a strong Line about the Silver Bound,</l>
               <l n="124">And guard the wide Circumference around.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="125">Whatever spirit, careless of his Charge,</l>
               <l n="126">His Post neglects, or leaves the Fair at large,</l>
               <l n="127">Shall feel sharp Vengeance soon o'ertake his Sins,</l>
               <l n="128"> Be <ref target="stopt_" corresp="stopt">stopt</ref>
                  <note xml:id="stopt" target="stopt_" type="gloss">"That is, stopped or blocked.</note> in <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Vials_" corresp="Vials">Vials</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Vials" target="Vials_" type="gloss">"A vessel of a small or moderate
                     size used for holding liquids; in later use spec., a small glass bottle" <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note>, or transfixt with <hi rend="italic">Pins</hi>; </l>
               <l n="129"> Or plung'd in Lakes of bitter <hi rend="italic">Washes</hi> lie, </l>
               <l n="130"> Or wedg'd whole Ages in a <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="bodkin_" corresp="bodkin">Bodkin's</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="bodkin" target="bodkin_" type="gloss">"A needle-like
                     instrument with a blunt knobbed point, having a large (as well as a small) eye,
                     for drawing tape or cord through a hem, loops, etc." <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>.</note> Eye: </l>
               <l n="131">
                  <hi rend="italic">Gums</hi> and <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="pomatums_" corresp="pomatums">Pomatums</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="pomatums" target="pomatums_" type="gloss">"An ointment for the skin or hair;
                     = pomade" "pomatum, n." <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note> shall his Flight restrain, </l>
               <l n="132">While clog'd he beats his silken Wings in vain;</l>
               <l n="133"> Or Alom- <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="styptick_" corresp="styptick">Stypticks</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="styptick" target="styptick_" type="gloss">A "styptic" is a kind of medicine
                     used to contract organic tissue (for example, to stop a cut bleeding),
                     frequently made out of "alum," a type of mineral salt. <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note> with contracting Power </l>
               <l n="134"> Shrink his thin Essence like a rivell'd Flower. <pb n="18" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.18.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="135"> Or as <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Ixion_" corresp="Ixion">Ixion</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Ixion" target="Ixion_" type="gloss">"Ixion, in Greek legend, murdered
                     his father-in-law and could find no one to purify him until Zeus did so. Ixion
                     abused his pardon by trying to seduce Zeus’s wife, Hera. Zeus, to punish him,
                     bound him on a fiery wheel, which rolled unceasingly through the air or,
                     according to the more common tradition, in the underworld." "Ixion | Greek
                     Mythology." <hi rend="italic">Encyclopedia Britannica Online</hi>
                                </note> fix'd, the Wretch shall feel </l>
               <l n="136">The giddy Motion of the <ref target="Mill_" corresp="Mill">whirling
                     Mill</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Mill" target="Mill_" type="gloss">Compares being trapped in the
                     grinder of a coffee mill to the mythological figure Ixion, who was fixed to a
                     fire wheel spinning in the air of the underworld forever.</note>
                            </l>
               <l n="137">Midst Fumes of burning Chocolate shall glow,</l>
               <l n="138">And tremble at the <ref target="Sea_" corresp="Sea">Sea</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Sea" target="Sea_" type="gloss">This is referring to the hot coffee
                     in the grinder/pot.</note>that froaths below!</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="139">
                                <ref target="He_" corresp="He">He</ref>
                  <note xml:id="He" target="He_" type="gloss">That is, Arial, the leader of the spirits.</note>spoke; the Spirits
                  from the Sails descend;</l>
               <l n="140">Some, Orb in Orb, around the <ref target="Nymph_" corresp="Nymph">Nymph</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Nymph" target="Nymph_" type="gloss">That is, Belinda.</note>extend,</l>
               <l n="141">Some <ref target="thrid_" corresp="thrid">thrid</ref>
               <note xml:id="thrid" target="thrid_" type="gloss">That is, the spirits "threaded" her hair.</note>the
                  mazy Ringlets of her Hair,</l>
               <l n="142">Some hang upon the Pendants of her Ear;</l>
               <l n="143">With beating Hearts the dire Event they wait,</l>
               <l n="144">Anxious, and trembling for the Birth of Fate.</l>        
            </lg>
         </div>
         <div type="engraving">
               <pb n="[Engraving]" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:cantoiii.image.jpg"/>
            <head>
                            <ref target="Figure_3_" corresp="Figure_3">Figure 3</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Figure_3" target="Figure_3_">
                                <graphic url="PageImages/Pope-RL:cantoiii.image.jpg"/>
                            </note>
                        </head>
                   </div>
         <pb n="19" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.19.jpg"/>
         <div n="3" type="canto">
            <head> THE RAPE <hi rend="italic">of the</hi> LOCK. <lb/>
                        </head>
            <head type="subtitle">
               <hi rend="italic">CANTO III.</hi>
            </head>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="1"> CLOSE by those <ref target="meads_" corresp="meads">Meads</ref>
                  <note xml:id="meads" target="meads_" type="gloss">That is, meadows.</note>for ever crown'd with Flow'rs, </l>
               <l n="2"> Where <hi rend="italic">Thames</hi> with Pride surveys his rising Tow'rs, </l>
               <l n="3">There stands a Structure of Majestick Frame,</l>
               <l n="4"> Which from the neighb'ring <ref target="Hampton_" corresp="Hampton">Hampton</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Hampton" target="Hampton_" type="gloss">
                                    <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/pope-rape-lock/PageImages/Hampton_Court.jpg"/>Hampton Court Palace, a royal palace on the banks of the Thames River, about twelve miles from central London. The palace was originally built by Cardinal Wolsey starting in 1514. He gave it to Henry VIII as a way of trying to get back in Henry's good graces, but it did not work; Wolsey was executed anyway for failing to get Henry the divorce he wanted. Henry built Hampton Court into an enormous royal palace. In the late 1600s, the great architect Christopher Wren built an enormous extension for William III. They tore down part of the earlier palace and added on in what was then the modern style, creating a large Baroque palace designed to emulate the Palace of Versailles in France, at that time the grandest royal palace in Europe. In the early part of the eighteenth century, when this poem takes place, Hampton Court was the most important royal palace in England, where the monarch usually lived, and courtiers like Belinda and the Baron would have flocked there to make their presence known at court. <hi rend="italic">Image: Hampton Court Palace by Andreas Tille, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons</hi>
                                </note> takes its Name. </l>
               <l n="5"> Here <hi rend="italic">Britain</hi>'s Statesmen oft the Fall foredoom </l>
               <l n="6">Of Foreign Tyrants, and of Nymphs at home;</l>
               <l n="7"> Here Thou, great <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Anne_" corresp="Anne">Anna</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Anne" target="Anne_" type="gloss">
                                    <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/pope-rape-lock/PageImages/Queen_Anne.jpg"/>Queen Anne (1665-1714), the last Stuart monarch of Great Britain. She took the throne upon the death of her father, William III in 1702. She died the year that the poem was published. <hi rend="italic">[Image: Queen Anne, painted by Michael Dahl, around 1705 (National Portrait Gallery)].</hi>
                                </note>!
                  whom three Realms obey, </l>
               <l n="8"> Dost sometimes Counsel take--and sometimes <hi rend="italic">Tea</hi>.
               </l>
            </lg>
            <pb n="20" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.20.jpg"/>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="9">Hither the Heroes and the Nymphs resort,</l>
               <l n="10">To taste awhile the Pleasures of a Court;</l>
               <l n="11">In various Talk th' instructive hours they past,</l>
               <l n="12"> Who gave a <hi rend="italic">Ball</hi>, or paid the <hi rend="italic">Visit</hi>last: </l>
               <l n="13"> One speaks the Glory of the <hi rend="italic">British Queen</hi>, </l>
               <l n="14"> And one describes a charming <hi rend="italic">Indian Screen</hi>; </l>
               <l n="15">A third interprets Motions, Looks, and Eyes;</l>
               <l n="16">At ev'ry Word a Reputation dies.</l>
               <l n="17">
                  <hi rend="italic">Snuff</hi>, or the <hi rend="italic">Fan</hi>, supply each
                  Pause of Chat, </l>
               <l n="18">With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="19">Mean while declining from the Noon of Day,</l>
               <l n="20">The Sun obliquely shoots his burning Ray;</l>
               <l n="21">The hungry Judges soon the Sentence sign,</l>
               <l n="22">And Wretches hang that Jury-men may Dine;</l>
               <l n="23"> The Merchant from th' <hi rend="italic">Exchange</hi> returns in Peace, </l>
               <l n="24"> And the long Labours of the <hi rend="italic">Toilette</hi> cease ---- </l>
               <l n="25">
                  <hi rend="italic">Belinda</hi> now, whom Thirst of Fame invites, </l>
               <l n="26"> Burns to encounter two adventrous Knights, <pb n="21" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.21.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="27"> At <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="ombre_" corresp="ombre">Ombre</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="ombre" target="ombre_" type="gloss">Ombre was a popular three-player
                     card game similar to the modern game of Bridge. Each game can have nine rounds (“tricks”).
                     The most straightforward way to win is by taking five tricks (drawing the
                     highest-ranked card in each round), after which the game ends. The game begins
                     with an auction to decide the trump suit. The highest-bidding player is the
                     “ombre” (from the Spanish “hombre” for "man"), and the other two play against her while
                     trying to ensure their individual successes. The penalty enacted on each of the
                     two non-ombres is greater if the ombre wins than if the other non-ombre wins.
                     Similarly, the ombre will lose more if either of the two gains five tricks than
                     if no one has won five at the end of nine rounds. The game was  popular among
                     the aristocratic class throughout Europe. The joke throughout is that Belinda is 
                     in effect playing the game of "man," both on the card table and in life. The game as 
                     it plays out over the next section of the poem is an entirely plausible game, with each
                     move following according to the actual rules of ombre. Belinda, for example, wins the starting auction
                     and becomes the "ombre" for duration of this game. See Alban George Henry Gibbs,
                     <hi rend="italic">The Game of Ombre</hi>. London: privately printed, 1874, 3rd edition (expanded)
                     1902, upon which we rely in tracing the course of the game.</note> singly to decide their Doom; </l>
               <l n="28">And swells her Breast with Conquests yet to come.</l>
               <l n="29">Strait the three Bands prepare in Arms to join,</l>
               <l n="30">Each Band the number of the Sacred Nine.</l>
               <l n="31">Soon as she spreads her Hand, th' Aerial Guard</l>
               <l n="32">Descend, and fit on each important Card,</l>
               <l n="33"> First <hi rend="italic">Ariel</hi> perch'd upon a <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="matadore_" corresp="matadore">Matadore</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="matadore" target="matadore_" type="gloss">The matadores (spadillio, manillio,
                     and basto) are the three highest-ranking cards in the trump suit. The matadore would be
                     the ace of spades; the manillio card is the lowest ranking card in the trump suit (the suit would vary
                     from game to game, identified by the winner of the auction at the start), and the basto is the ace of clubs. Belinda
                     controls all three.</note>, </l>
               <l n="34">Then each, according to the Rank they bore;</l>
               <l n="35"> For <hi rend="italic">Sylphs</hi>, yet mindful of their ancient Race, </l>
               <l n="36">Are, as when Women, wondrous fond of place.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="37"> Behold, four <hi rend="italic">Kings</hi> in Majesty
                  rever'd, </l>
               <l n="38">With hoary Whiskers and a forky Beard;</l>
               <l n="39"> And four fair <hi rend="italic">Queens</hi> whose hands sustain a Flow'r, </l>
               <l n="40">Th' expressive Emblem of their softer Pow'r;</l>
               <l n="41"> Four <hi rend="italic">Knaves</hi> in Garbs succinct, a trusty Band, </l>
               <l n="42">Caps on their heads, and Halberds in their hand;</l>
               <l n="43">And Particolour'd Troops, a shining Train,</l>
               <l n="44">Draw forth to Combat on the <ref target="Velvet_Plain_" corresp="Velvet_Plain">Velvet Plain</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Velvet_Plain" target="Velvet_Plain_" type="gloss">That is, the cloth covering
                  the three-sided card table on which Belinda and the two men are playing the game. The Kings, Queens, Jacks, and 
                  other cards are imagined as being arranged like soldiers on a battlefield.</note>.</l>
            </lg>
            <pb n="22" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.22.jpg"/>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="45">The skilful Nymph reviews her <ref target="Force_" corresp="Force">Force</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Force" target="Force_" type="gloss">Belinda’s starting
                     hand is made up of spadillio, manillio, basto: the king of spades, the king and
                     queen of hearts, and the 5 and 4 of diamonds. The Baron begins the game with
                     the king of clubs, the jack, 7, 5, and 3 of spades (the trump suit), the king,
                     queen, and jack of diamonds, and the ace of hearts. Belinda and the Baron both
                     have extremely strong hands, while the third character has no strong cards.</note>with Care;</l>
               <l n="46">
                  <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Trumps_" corresp="Trumps">Let Spades be
                     Trumps</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Trumps" target="Trumps_" type="gloss">Having won the "auction" at the start of the 
                     game by outbidding the other two players, Belinda chooses the trump suit.</note>, she said, and Trumps they
                  were. </l>
               <l n="47"> Now move to War her Sable <hi rend="italic">matadores</hi>, </l>
               <l n="48"> In Show like Leaders of the swarthy <hi rend="italic">Moors</hi>. </l>
               <l n="49">
                  <hi rend="italic">Spadillio</hi> first, unconquerable Lord! </l>
               <l n="50">Led off two captive Trumps, and swept the Board</l>
               <l n="51"> As many more <hi rend="italic">Manillio</hi> forc'd to yield, </l>
               <l n="52">And march'd a Victor from the verdant Field.</l>
               <l n="53"> Him <hi rend="italic">Basto</hi> follow'd, but his Fate more hard </l>
               <l n="54"> Gain'd but one Trump and one <hi rend="italic">Plebeian</hi> Card. </l>
               <l n="55">With his broad Sabre next, a Chief in Years,</l>
               <l n="56"> The hoary Majesty of <hi rend="italic">Spades</hi> appears; </l>
               <l n="57">Puts forth one manly Leg, to fight reveal'd;</l>
               <l n="58">The rest his many-colour'd Robe conceal'd.</l>
               <l n="59"> The Rebel- <hi rend="italic">Knave</hi>, that dares his Prince engage, </l>
               <l n="60">Proves the just Victim of his Royal Rage.</l>
               <l n="61"> Ev'n mighty <hi rend="italic">Pam</hi> that Kings and Queens o'erthrow, </l>
               <l n="62"> And mow'd down Armies in the Fights of <hi rend="italic">Lu</hi>, </l>
               <l n="63">And Chance of War! now, destitute of Aid,</l>
               <l n="64"> Falls undistinguish'd by the Victor <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Spade_" corresp="Spade">Spade</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Spade" target="Spade_" type="gloss">Belinda quickly wins the first five rounds or 
                     "tricks" of the game by playing her cards skilfully.</note>! </l>
            </lg>
            <pb n="23" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.23.jpg"/>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="65"> Thus far both Armies to <hi rend="italic">Belinda</hi>
                  yield; </l>
               <l n="66"> Now to the <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Baron_" corresp="Baron">Baron</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Baron" target="Baron_" type="gloss">In the following three stanzas, the Baron
                     begins to threaten Belinda’s winning streak. He wins tricks five through eight,
                     tying their scores. His first move is with the Queen of Spades.</note> Fate inclines the Field.</l>
               <l n="67"> His warlike <hi rend="italic">Amazon</hi> her Host invades, </l>
               <l n="68"> Th' Imperial Consort of the Crown of <hi rend="italic">Spades</hi>. </l>
               <l n="69"> The <hi rend="italic">Club's</hi> black Tyrant first her Victim dy'd, </l>
               <l n="70">Spite of his haughty Mien, and barb'rous Pride:</l>
               <l n="71">What boots the Regal Circle on his Head,</l>
               <l n="72">His Giant Limbs in State unwiedly spread?</l>
               <l n="73">That long behind he trails his pompous Robe,</l>
               <l n="74">And of all Monarchs only grasps the <ref target="Globe_" corresp="Globe">Globe</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Globe" target="Globe_" type="gloss">The King of Clubs is often pictured
                  holding an orb, or globe.</note>?</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="75"> The <hi rend="italic">Baron</hi> now his <hi rend="italic">Diamonds</hi> pours apace; </l>
               <l n="76"> Th' embroider'd <hi rend="italic">King</hi> who shows but half his Face, </l>
               <l n="77"> And his refulgent <hi rend="italic">Queen</hi>, with Pow'rs combin'd, </l>
               <l n="78">Of broken Troops an easie Conquest find.</l>
               <l n="79">
                  <hi rend="italic">Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts</hi>, in wild Disorder seen, </l>
               <l n="80">With Throngs promiscuous strow the level Green.</l>
               <l n="81">Thus when dispers'd a routed Army runs,</l>
               <l n="82"> Of <hi rend="italic">Asia</hi>'s Troops, and <hi rend="italic">Africk</hi>'s Sable Sons, <pb n="24" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.24.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="83">With like Confusion different Nations fly,</l>
               <l n="84">In various habits and of various Dye,</l>
               <l n="85">The pierc'd Battalions dis-united fall,</l>
               <l n="86">In Heaps on Heaps; one Fate o'erwhelms them all.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="87"> The <hi rend="italic">Knave</hi> of <hi rend="italic">Diamonds</hi> now exerts his Arts, </l>
               <l n="88"> And wins (oh shameful Chance!) the <hi rend="italic">Queen</hi> of <hi rend="italic">Hearts</hi>. </l>
               <l n="89">At this, the Blood the Virgin's Cheek forsook,</l>
               <l n="90">A livid Paleness spreads o'er all her Look;</l>
               <l n="91">She sees, and trembles at th' approaching Ill,</l>
               <l n="92"> Just in the Jaws of Ruin, and <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Codille_" corresp="Codille">Codille</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Codille" target="Codille_" type="gloss">A "codille" would be a loss at the game, if the 
                       Baron were to win the final trick. Belinda must either win trick nine, or hope that
                     the third player does, in order to avoid losing to the Baron.</note>. </l>
               <l n="93">And now, (as oft in some distemper'd State)</l>
               <l n="94"> On one nice <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Trick_" corresp="Trick">Trick</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Trick" target="Trick_" type="gloss">A trick is a round. As explained
                     above, a game consists of nine tricks; whoever takes five wins the game. At this
                  point, with Belinda and the Baron tied with four tricks each, the game is down to
                  the final round.</note> depends the gen'ral Fate, </l>
               <l n="95"> Lurk'd in her Hand, and mourn'd his captive <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Queen_" corresp="Queen">Queen</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Queen" target="Queen_" type="gloss">The Baron mourns that he has 
                    already played a Queen that could win the round. He plays an Ace; Belinda counters
                  with a King (which in ombre outranks an Ace) and wins final trick and thus the game.</note>.</l>
               <l n="96">He springs to Vengeance with an eager pace,</l>
               <l n="97"> And falls like Thunder on the prostrate <hi rend="italic">Ace</hi>. </l>
               <l n="98">The Nymph exulting fills with Shouts the Sky,</l>
               <l n="99">The Walls, the Woods, and long Canals reply.</l>
            </lg>
            <pb n="25" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.25.jpg"/>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="100">Oh thoughtless Mortals! ever blind to Fate,</l>
               <l n="101">Too soon dejected, and too soon elate!</l>
               <l n="102">Sudden these Honours shall be snatch'd away,</l>
               <l n="103">And curs'd for ever this Victorious Day.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="104">For lo! the Board with Cups and Spoons is crown'd,</l>
               <l n="105">The <ref target="Berries_" corresp="Berries">Berries</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Berries" target="Berries_" type="gloss">Coffee beans, which are being ground in a 
                  mill to make fresh coffee. </note>crackle, and the Mill turns
                  round.</l>
               <l n="106"> On shining Altars of <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Japan_" corresp="Japan">Japan</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Japan" target="Japan" type="gloss">"Japan" was a style of wooden
                  furniture, highly polished and often decorated in a vaguely Asian style; hence the name. Japan-style
                  furtniture was expensive,
                  and therefore fashionable among wealthy people in Europe at this time.</note> they raise </l>
               <l n="107">The silver Lamp, and fiery Spirits blaze.</l>
               <l n="108">From silver Spouts the grateful Liquors glide,</l>
               <l n="109"> And <hi rend="italic">China</hi>'s Earth receives the smoking Tyde. </l>
               <l n="110">At once they gratify their Scent and Taste,</l>
               <l n="111">While frequent Cups prolong the rich Repast.</l>
               <l n="112">Strait hover round the Fair her Airy Band;</l>
               <l n="113">Some, as she sip'd, the fuming Liquor fann'd,</l>
               <l n="114">Some o'er her Lap their careful Plumes display'd,</l>
               <l n="115">Trembling, and conscious of the rich Brocade.</l>
               <l n="116">
                  <hi rend="italic">Coffee</hi>, (which makes the Politician wise, </l>
               <l n="117"> And see thro' all things with his half shut Eyes) <pb n="26" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.26.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="118"> Sent up in Vapours to the <hi rend="italic">Baron</hi>'s Brain </l>
               <l n="119">New Stratagems, the radiant Lock to gain.</l>
               <l n="120">Ah cease rash Youth! desist e'er 'tis too late,</l>
               <l n="121"> Fear the just Gods, and think of
                  <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Scylla_" corresp="Scylla">Scylla</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Scylla" target="Scylla_" type="gloss">Nisus, king of Megara, was at war
                     against Crete, but it was decreed by fate that his kingdom would be safe as
                     long as a purple lock of hair remained on his head. His daughter Scylla fell in
                     love with the king of Crete, Minos, and cut off her father's purple lock to
                     give to him. Minos rejected the gift, and both Nisus and Scylla turned into
                     birds.</note>'s Fate! </l>
               <l n="122">Chang'd to a Bird, and sent to flit in Air,</l>
               <l n="123"> She dearly pays for <hi rend="italic">Nisus'</hi> injur'd Hair! </l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="124">But when to Mischief Mortals bend their Mind,</l>
               <l n="125">How soon fit Instruments of Ill they find?</l>
               <l n="126"> Just then, <hi rend="italic">Clarissa</hi> drew with tempting Grace </l>
               <l n="127">A two-edg'd Weapon from her shining Case;</l>
               <l n="128">So Ladies in Romance assist their Knight,</l>
               <l n="129">Present the Spear, and arm him for the Fight.</l>
               <l n="130">He takes the Gift with rev'rence, and extends</l>
               <l n="131">The little Engine on his Finger's Ends,</l>
               <l n="132"> This just behind <hi rend="italic">Belinda</hi>'s Neck he spread, </l>
               <l n="133">As o'er the fragrant Steams she bends her Head:</l>
               <l n="134">Swift to the Lock a thousand Sprights repair,</l>
               <l n="135"> A thousand Wings, by turns, blow back the Hair, <pb n="27" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.27.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="136">And thrice they twitch'd the Diamond in her Ear,</l>
               <l n="137"> Thrice she look'd back, and thrice the Foe drew near. </l>
               <l n="138"> Just in that instant, anxious <hi rend="italic">Ariel</hi> sought </l>
               <l n="139">The close Recesses of the Virgin's Thought;</l>
               <l n="140">As on the <ref target="Nosegay_" corresp="Nosegay">Nosegay</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Nosegay" target="Nosegay_" type="gloss">A nosegay is a small flower bouquet, worn
                     like a corsage.</note>in her
                  Breast reclin'd,</l>
               <l n="141">He watch'd th' Ideas rising in her Mind,</l>
               <l n="142">Sudden he view'd, in spite of all her Art,</l>
               <l n="143">An Earthly Lover lurking at her Heart.</l>
               <l n="144">Amaz'd, confus'd, he found his Pow'r expir'd,</l>
               <l n="145">Resign'd to Fate, and with a Sigh retir'd.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="146"> The Peer now spreads the glitt'ring <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Forfex_" corresp="Forfex">Forfex</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Forfex" target="Forfex_" type="gloss">Latin for scissors.</note> wide, </l>
               <l n="147">T'inclose the Lock; now joins it, to divide.</l>
               <l n="148">Ev'n then, before the fatal Engine clos'd,</l>
               <l n="149"> A wretched <hi rend="italic">Sylph</hi> too fondly interpos'd; </l>
               <l n="150"> Fate urg'd the Sheers, and cut the <hi rend="italic">Sylph</hi> in twain, </l>
               <l n="151">
                                <ref target="Airy_" corresp="Airy">(*But Airy Substance soon unites
                     again)</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Airy" target="Airy_" type="gloss">A reference to John Milton's
                     <hi rend="italic">Paradise Lost</hi>, where Satan is injured in the war in heaven when a sword
                     "Passed through him, but th' Ethereal substance closed/ Not long divisible."
                     </note>
                            </l>
               <l n="152">The meeting Points that sacred Hair dissever</l>
               <l n="153"> From the fair Head, for ever and for ever! <pb n="28" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.28.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="154">Then flash'd the living Lightnings from her Eyes,</l>
               <l n="155">And Screams of Horror rend th' affrighted Skies.</l>
               <l n="156">Not louder Shrieks by Dames to Heav'n are cast,</l>
               <l n="157">When Husbands or when <ref target="Monkeys_" corresp="Monkeys">Monkeys</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Monkeys" target="Monkeys_" type="gloss">In eighteenth-century England, the
                     wealthy kept many kinds of pets, including monkeys. The lower classes sometimes
                     kept performing monkeys, which could earn them extra money.</note>breath their last,</l>
               <l n="158"> Or when rich <hi rend="italic">China</hi> Vessels, fal'n from high, </l>
               <l n="159">In glittring Dust and painted Fragments lie!</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="160">Let <ref target="Wreaths_" corresp="Wreaths">Wreaths of
                     Triumph</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Wreaths" target="Wreaths_" type="gloss">In ancient Greece, laurel wreaths
                     were worn as a symbol of victory or honor.</note>now my Temples twine,</l>
               <l n="161">(The Victor cry'd) the glorious Prize is mine!</l>
               <l n="162">While Fish in Streams, or Birds delight in Air,</l>
               <l n="163"> Or in a Coach and Six the <hi rend="italic">British</hi> Fair, </l>
               <l n="164"> As long as <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Atalantis_" corresp="Atalantis">Atalantis</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Atalantis" target="Atalantis_" type="gloss">
                                    <hi rend="italic">Secret Memoirs and Manners of
                     Several Persons of Quality, of Both Sexes, from the New Atalantis, an Island in
                     the Mediterranean</hi>, published in 1709, was a scandalous but very popular work of fiction by Delarivier
                     Manley. With its salacious details of politicians' private lives, the story
                     satirizes the corruption of the aristocracy.</note> shall be read, </l>
               <l n="165">Or the small Pillow grace a Lady's Bed,</l>
               <l n="166"> While <hi rend="italic">Visits</hi> shall be paid on solemn Days, </l>
               <l n="167">When numerous Wax-lights in bright Order blaze,</l>
               <l n="168">While Nymphs take Treats, or Assignations give,</l>
               <l n="169">So long my Honour, Name, and Praise shall live!</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="170"> What Time wou'd spare, from Steel receives its date, </l>
               <l n="171"> And Monuments, like Men, submit to Fate! <pb n="29" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.29.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="172">Steel did the Labour of the Gods destroy,</l>
               <l n="173"> And strike to Dust th' Imperial Tow'rs of <hi rend="italic">Troy</hi>; </l>
               <l n="174">Steel cou'd the Works of mortal Pride confound,</l>
               <l n="175">And hew Triumphal Arches to the Ground.</l>
               <l n="176"> What Wonder then, fair Nymph! thy Hairs shou'd feel </l>
               <l n="177">The conqu'ring Force of unresisted Steel?</l>
            </lg>
         </div>
         <div type="engraving">
               <pb n="[Engraving]" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:canto.iv.image.jpg"/>
            <head>
                            <ref target="Figure_4_" corresp="Figure_4">Figure 4</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Figure_4" target="Figure_4_">
                                <graphic url="PageImages/Pope-RL:canto.iv.image.jpg"/>
                            </note>
                        </head>
         </div>
         <pb n="30" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.30.jpg"/>
         <div n="4" type="canto">
            <head> THE RAPE <hi rend="italic">of the</hi> LOCK. <lb/>
                        </head>
            <head type="subtitle">
               <hi rend="italic">CANTO IV.</hi>
            </head>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="1">BUT anxious Cares the pensive Nymph opprest,</l>
               <l n="2">And secret Passions labour'd in her Breast.</l>
               <l n="3">Not youthful Kings in Battel seiz'd alive,</l>
               <l n="4">Not scornful Virgins who their Charms survive,</l>
               <l n="5">Not ardent Lovers robb'd of all their Bliss,</l>
               <l n="6">Not ancient Ladies when refus'd a Kiss,</l>
               <l n="7">Not Tyrants fierce that unrepenting die,</l>
               <l n="8">Not <hi rend="italic">Cynthia</hi> when her <hi rend="italic">Manteau</hi>'s pinn'd
                  awry, </l>
               <pb n="31" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.31.jpg"/>
               <l>
               </l>
               <l n="9">E'er felt such Rage, Resentment and Despair,</l>
               <l n="10">As Thou, sad Virgin! for thy ravish'd Hair.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="11"> For, that sad moment, when the <hi rend="italic">Sylphs</hi>
                  withdrew, </l>
               <l n="12"> And <hi rend="italic">Ariel</hi> weeping from <hi rend="italic">Belinda</hi> flew, </l>
               <l n="13">
                  <hi rend="italic">Umbriel</hi>, a dusky melancholy Spright, </l>
               <l n="14">As ever fully'd the fair face of Light,</l>
               <l n="15">Down to the Central Earth, his proper Scene,</l>
               <l n="16"> Repairs to search the gloomy Cave of <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="a165" corresp="n165">Spleen</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="n165" target="a165" type="gloss">According to the humours theory
                     of human psychology, which held sway from the middle ages into the early modern period,  
                     a person's temperament was set by the mixture of various fluids--humours--in the body.
                     The spleen was thought to produce yellow bile, an excess of which would lead to depression. 
                     So by analogy "the spleen" became shorthand for a state of depression, which Belinda 
                     is experiencing in the wake of the theft of her lock of hair. Umbriel's journey through the Cave
                     of Spleen is analogous to the journeys, fraught with many perils, which Aeneas
                     (in Vergil's <hi rend="italic">Aeneid</hi>) and Odysseus (Homer's <hi rend="italic">Odyssey</hi>) made to the
                     underworld in those epics.</note>. </l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="17"> Swift on his sooty Pinions flitts the <hi rend="italic">Gnome</hi>, </l>
               <l n="18">And in a Vapour reach'd the dismal <ref target="Dome_" corresp="Dome">Dome</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Dome" target="Dome_" type="gloss">That is, a domed building.</note>.</l>
               <l n="19">No cheerful Breeze this sullen Region knows,</l>
               <l n="20"> The dreaded <hi rend="italic">East</hi> is all the Wind that blows. </l>
               <l n="21">Here, in a Grotto, sheltred close from Air,</l>
               <l n="22">And screen'd in Shades from Day's detested Glare,</l>
               <l n="23">She sighs for ever on her pensive Bed,</l>
               <l n="24">
                  <hi rend="italic">Pain</hi> at her side, and <hi rend="italic">Languor</hi> at her
                  Head. </l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="25">Two Handmaids wait the Throne: Alike in Place,</l>
               <l n="26"> But diff'ring far in Figure and in Face. <pb n="32" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.32.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="27"> Here stood <hi rend="italic">Ill-nature</hi> like an <hi rend="italic">ancient Maid</hi>, </l>
               <l n="28"> Her wrinkled Form in <hi rend="italic">Black</hi> and <hi rend="italic">White</hi> array'd; </l>
               <l n="29"> With store of Pray'rs, for Mornings, Nights, and Noons, </l>
               <l n="30">Her Hand is fill'd; her Bosom with <ref target="Lampoon_" corresp="Lampoon">Lampoons</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Lampoon" target="Lampoon_" type="gloss">"Lampooning" in seventeenth and eighteenth
                     century England was a scathing form of satire that attacked a specific person's
                     appearance. It originates from the French word "lampons," which means "let's
                     drink," and Alexander Pope himself lampooned a fellow writer, Joseph Addison,
                     in his work "An Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot." The form fell into disuse soon after
                     this time but the term "lampoon" still refers to an insult directed at a
                     specific person or institution. Werlock, Abby H. P. <hi rend="italic">The Facts on File Companion
                        to the American Short Story</hi>. 2nd ed. New York NY: Facts On File, 2010.
                     Print.</note>.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="31"> There <hi rend="italic">Affectation</hi> with a sickly Mien </l>
               <l n="32">Shows in her Cheek the Roses of Eighteen,</l>
               <l n="33">Practis'd to Lisp, and hang the Head aside,</l>
               <l n="34">Faints into Airs, and languishes with Pride;</l>
               <l n="35">On the rich Quilt sinks with becoming Woe,</l>
               <l n="36">Wrapt in a Gown, for Sickness, and for Show.</l>
               <l n="37">The Fair ones feel such Maladies as these,</l>
               <l n="38">When each new Night-Dress gives a new Disease.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="39"> A constant <hi rend="italic">Vapour</hi> o'er the Palace
                  flies; </l>
               <l n="40">Strange Phantoms rising as the Mists arise;</l>
               <l n="41">Dreadful, as Hermit's Dreams in haunted Shades,</l>
               <l n="42">Or bright as Visions of expiring Maids.</l>
               <l n="43">Now glaring Fiends, and Snakes on <ref target="Spires_" corresp="Spires">rolling
                     Spires</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Spires" target="Spires_" type="gloss">spirals</note>,</l>
               <l n="44"> Pale Spectres, gaping Tombs, and Purple Fires: <pb n="33" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.33.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="45"> Now Lakes of liquid Gold, <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Eysian_" corresp="Elysian">Elysian</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Elysian" target="Elysian_" type="gloss">A reference to Elysium/Elysian
                     Fields/Elysian Plain of classical mythology, where mortals favored by the gods for their rectitude
                     were sent to dwell after they had departed from the land of the living. Elysium
                     was originally the exclusive province of the heroes who had acquired
                     immortality from the gods Elysian in the
                     context of this passage means like "paradise."</note> Scenes, </l>
               <l n="46">And Crystal Domes, and Angels in Machines.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="47">Unnumber'd Throngs on ev'ry side are seen</l>
               <l n="48"> Of Bodies chang'd to various Forms by <hi rend="italic">Spleen</hi>. </l>
               <l n="49"> Here living <hi rend="italic">Teapots</hi> stand, one Arm held out, </l>
               <l n="50">One bent; the Handle this, and that the Spout:</l>
               <l n="51"> A <ref target="Pipkin" corresp="Pipkin">Pipkin</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Pipkin_" target="Pipkin_" type="gloss">According to Samuel Johnson's 1755 <hi rend="italic">A pipkin is                  "A small earthen boiler."</hi> </note>there like <hi rend="italic">Homer</hi>'s <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Tripod" corresp="Tripod">Tripod</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Tripod" target="Tripod_" type="gloss">The automatons (or
                     "tripods"), twenty in all, fashioned with rivets and gold wheels by the lame
                     god Vulcan in his workshop so that they might be dispatched whenever the gods
                     congregated at Mt. Olympus, returning to the workshop afterwards to be at the
                     beck and call of Vulcan. From Book XVIII of Homer's <hi rend="italic">Iliad.</hi>
                                </note> walks; </l>
               <l n="52">Here sighs a Jar, and there a <ref target="Goose-pye_" corresp="Goose-pye">Goose-pye</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Goose-pye" target="Goose-pye_" type="gloss">Gooseberry pie</note>talks;</l>
               <l n="53">Men prove with Child, as pow'rful Fancy works,</l>
               <l n="54">And Maids turn'd Bottels, call aloud for Corks.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="55"> Safe past the <hi rend="italic">Gnome</hi> thro' this
                  fantastick Band, </l>
               <l n="56"> A <ref target="Branch_" corresp="Branch">Branch</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Branch" target="Branch_" type="gloss">The branch of spleenwort, a humble fern, 
                     is a parodic reference to the golden bough bore by Aeneas during his journey, accompanied by the Cumaean Sibyl,
                     through the underworld. Aeneas, having been guided by a pair of doves to a
                     place in a forest where the golden bough had been long obscured from the sight
                     of man, had plucked the golden bough in order to obtain safe passage through
                     the underworld. He and the Sibyl were ferried to the underworld across the
                     Acheron River. Spleenwort got its name because it was believed to have medicinal properties,
                  particularly in treating "spleen" or, in our terms, depression.</note>of healing <hi rend="italic">Spleenwort</hi> in his hand. </l>
               <l n="57">Then thus addrest the Pow'r--Hail wayward Queen;</l>
               <l n="58">Who rule the Sex to Fifty from Fifteen,</l>
               <l n="59">Parent of Vapors and of Female Wit,</l>
               <l n="60"> Who give th' <hi rend="italic">Hysteric</hi> or <hi rend="italic">Poetic</hi> Fit, </l>
               <l n="61">On various Tempers act by various ways,</l>
               <l n="62"> Make some take Physick, others scribble Plays; <pb n="34" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.34.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="63">Who cause the Proud their Visits to delay,</l>
               <l n="64">And send the Godly in a <ref target="Pett_" corresp="Pett">Pett</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Pett" target="Pett_" type="gloss">According to Samuel Johnson's 1755 
                     <hi rend="italic">Dictionary</hi>, "pett" is "A slight
                     passion; a slight fit of anger."</note>, to
                  pray.</l>
               <l n="65">A Nymph there is, that all thy Pow'r disdains,</l>
               <l n="66">And thousands more in equal Mirth maintains.</l>
               <l n="67"> But oh! if e'er thy <hi rend="italic">Gnome</hi> could spoil a Grace, </l>
               <l n="68">Or raise a Pimple on a beauteous Face,</l>
               <l n="69">Like <ref target="Citron-Waters_" corresp="Citron-Waters">Citron-Waters</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Citron-Waters" target="Citron-Waters_" type="gloss">Brandy based on citrus
                  wine.</note>Matron's Cheeks
                  inflame,</l>
               <l n="70">Or change Complexions at a losing Game;</l>
               <l n="71">If e'er with airy <ref target="Horns_" corresp="Horns">Horns</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Horns" target="Horns_" type="gloss">"Horns" were associated with
                  being cuckolded.</note>I planted
                  Heads,</l>
               <l n="72">Or rumpled Petticoats, or tumbled Beds,</l>
               <l n="73">Or caus'd Suspicion when no Soul was rude,</l>
               <l n="74">Or discompos'd the Head-dress of a Prude,</l>
               <l n="75">Or e'er to <ref target="costive_" corresp="costive">costive</ref>
                  <note xml:id="costive" target="costive_" type="gloss">Constipated.</note>Lap-Dog gave
                  Disease,</l>
               <l n="76">Which not the Tears of brightest Eyes could ease:</l>
               <l n="77"> Hear me, and touch <hi rend="italic">Belinda</hi> with Chagrin; </l>
               <l n="78">That single Act gives half the World the Spleen.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="79">The Goddess with a discontented Air</l>
               <l n="80"> Seems to reject him, tho' she grants his Pray'r. <pb n="35" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.35.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="81">A wondrous Bag with both her Hands she binds,</l>
               <l n="82"> Like that where once <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Bag_" corresp="Bag">Ulysses</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Bag" target="Bag_" type="gloss"> In Homer's <hi rend="italics">Odyssey,</hi> Odysseus receives a bag of                     winds from Aeolus, the god of wind.</note> held the Winds; </l>
               <l n="83">There she collects the Force of Female Lungs,</l>
               <l n="84">Sighs, Sobs, and Passions, and the War of Tongues.</l>
               <l n="85">A Vial next she fills with fainting Fears,</l>
               <l n="86">Soft Sorrows, melting Griefs, and flowing Tears.</l>
               <l n="87"> The <hi rend="italic">Gnome</hi> rejoicing bears her Gift away, </l>
               <l n="88">Spreads his black Wings, and flowly mounts to Day.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="89"> Sunk in <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Thalestris_" corresp="Thalestris">Thalestris'</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Thalestris" target="Thalestris" type="gloss">Thalestris was a 
                     queen of the Amazons, the mythological race of warrior women.</note> Arms the
                  Nymph he found, </l>
               <l n="90">Her Eyes dejected and her Hair unbound.</l>
               <l n="91">Full o'er their Heads the swelling Bag he rent,</l>
               <l n="92">And all the <ref target="Furies_" corresp="Furies">Furies</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Furies" target="Furies_" type="gloss">Three mythological goddesses
                     of revenge.</note>issued at the Vent.</l>
               <l n="93">
                  <hi rend="italic">Belinda</hi> burns with more than mortal <ref target="Ire_" corresp="Ire">Ire</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Ire" target="Ire_" type="gloss">Intense anger.</note>, </l>
               <l n="94"> And fierce <hi rend="italic">Thalestris</hi> fans the rising Fire. </l>
               <l n="95">O wretched Maid! she spread her hands, and cry'd,</l>
               <l n="96"> (While <hi rend="italic">Hampton</hi>'s Ecchos wretched Maid reply'd) </l>
               <l n="97">Was it for this you took such constant Care</l>
               <l n="98"> The <hi rend="italic">Bodkin, Comb</hi>, and <hi rend="italic">Essence</hi> to prepare; <pb n="36" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.36.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="99">For this your Locks in <ref target="paper_" corresp="paper">Paper-Durance</ref>
                  <note xml:id="paper" target="paper_" type="gloss">In this period, women used paper, often heated
                  and shaped with lead, to curl their hair.</note>bound,</l>
               <l n="100">For this with tort'ring Irons wreath'd around?</l>
               <l n="101">For this with <ref target="Fillets_" corresp="Fillets">Fillets</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Fillets" target="Fillets_" type="gloss">A headband, here being used
                  to shape a hairstyle.</note>strain'd your tender Head,</l>
               <l n="102">And bravely bore the double Loads of <ref target="Lead_" corresp="Lead">Lead</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Lead" target="Lead_" type="gloss">Lead was heated to curl women's hair.</note>?</l>
               <l n="103">Gods! shall the Ravisher display your Hair,</l>
               <l n="104">While the <ref target="Fops_" corresp="Fops">Fops</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Fops" target="Fops_" type="gloss">"Fop" was a contemporary slang term for
                     man overly concerned with his outer appearance to the point that it bothers
                     other people. It originated in this context in seventeenth-century England to refer to
                     a generally foolish, effeminate man incapable of engaging in intellectual
                     conversation. In this line, the definition of a "fop" is exemplified by the
                     fact that they and ladies are both jealous of Belinda's hair.</note>envy, and the Ladies stare!</l>
               <l n="105">
                  <hi rend="italic">Honour</hi> forbid! at whose unrival'd Shrine </l>
               <l n="106">Ease, Pleasure, Virtue, All, our Sex resign.</l>
               <l n="107">Methinks already I your Tears survey,</l>
               <l n="108">Already hear the horrid things they say,</l>
               <l n="109">Already see you a degraded <ref target="Toast_" corresp="Toast">Toast</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Toast" target="Toast_" type="gloss">The term "toast" originated as a
                     term for a lady for whose health a group of people dedicated a drink, similar
                     to how people propose toasts today. This lady's name was seen as adding a
                     special flavor to the drink in question, similar in function to a spiced toast
                     that would have been a common feature in alcoholic drinks at the time. <hi rend="italic">Oxford English                                   Dictionary</hi>.</note>,</l>
               <l n="110">And all your Honour in a Whisper lost!</l>
               <l n="111">How shall I, then, your helpless Fame defend?</l>
               <l n="112">'Twill then be Infamy to seem your Friend!</l>
               <l n="113">And shall this Prize, th' inestimable Prize,</l>
               <l n="114">Expos'd thro' Crystal to the gazing Eyes,</l>
               <l n="115">And heighten'd by the Diamond's circling Rays,</l>
               <l n="116">On that Rapacious Hand for ever blaze?</l>
               <l n="117"> Sooner shall Grass in <hi rend="italic">Hide</hi>-Park <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Circus_" corresp="Circus">Circus</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Circus" target="Circus_" type="gloss">The Ring-Road in Hyde Park, at this 
                  time a fashionable area to take a carriage on a nice day to see and be seen
                  by those who could afford carriages.</note> grow, </l>
               <l n="118"> And Wits take Lodgings in the Sound of <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Bell_" corresp="Bell">Bow</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Bell" target="Bell_" type="gloss">The bells of St
                     Mary-le-Bow, a church which was located in the Cheapside district of London. This
                  was not a fashionable area; it was for a long time traditionally associated with
                  working-class Cockneys from the East End.</note>
                     <pb n="37" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.37.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="119"> Sooner let Earth, Air, Sea, to <hi rend="italic">Chaos</hi> fall, </l>
               <l n="120">Men, Monkies, Lap-dogs, Parrots, perish all!</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="121"> She said; then raging to <hi rend="italic">Sir Plume</hi>
                  repairs, </l>
               <l n="122"> And bids her <hi rend="italic">Beau</hi> demand the precious Hairs: </l>
               <l n="123"> (<hi rend="italic">Sir Plume</hi>, of <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Snuff-box_" corresp="Snuff-box">Amber Snuff-box</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Snuff-box" target="Snuff-box_" type="gloss">High society gentlemen of this time
                     generally stored their "snuff," or sniffing tobacco, in jeweled boxes
                     made from precious materials such as porcelain, ebony, and, in this case, amber. Sir Plume is very vain about his                        fancy snuff-box.</note> justly vain, </l>
               <l n="124"> And the nice Conduct of a <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Cane_" corresp="Cane">clouded Cane</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Cane" target="Cane_" type="gloss">A walking stick, perhaps made of 
                  glass or porcelain, and "clouded" in a decorative way.</note> ) </l>
               <l n="125">With earnest Eyes, and round unthinking Face,</l>
               <l n="126">He first the Snuff-box open'd, then the Case,</l>
               <l n="127"> And thus broke out--- "My Lord, why, what the Devil? </l>
               <l n="128"> "<ref target="Z---ds_" corresp="Z---ds">Z---ds!</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Z---ds" target="Z---ds_" type="gloss">"Zounds" is a euphemism for "by God's wounds,"
                  that is, the wounds that Jesus received when being nailed to the cross. That was
                  considered blasphemous, so "zounds" became a work-around. In context, a 
                  mild expletive, like "damn."</note>damn the Lock! 'fore Gad, you must be
                  civil! </l>
               <l n="129">"Plague on't! 'tis past a Jest---nay prithee, <ref target="Pox_" corresp="Pox">Pox</ref>
                                <note xml:id="Pox" target="Pox_" type="gloss">"Pox" refers either to 
                        small-pox or to venereal disease; here it is being used as an expletive without
                        so specific a meaning.</note>!</l>
               <l n="130">"Give her the Hair---he spoke, and rapp'd his Box.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="131">It grieves me much (reply'd the Peer again)</l>
               <l n="132">Who speaks so well shou'd ever speak in vain.</l>
               <l n="133">But * by this <ref target="Lock_" corresp="Lock">Lock</ref>
                                <note xml:id="Lock" target="Lock_" type="gloss">This passage may to a
                     passage from Homer (<hi rend="italic">Iliad, book 23)</hi> in which Achilles cuts off a lock of his own hair to                     mourn and commemorate the death of Patroclus. Many of his men follow
                     suit and cut off locks of their own hair, and Achilles then cuts off
                     another lock of his hair that he had been growing for the river Spercheus to
                     make his trip home safer. This continues the trend throughout the poem of using
                     military conquest language to describe the event of cutting off a lock of
                     Belinda's hair.</note>,
                  this sacred Lock I swear.</l>
               <l n="134"> (Which never more shall join its parted Hair, <pb n="38" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.38.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="135">Which never more its Honours shall renew,</l>
               <l n="136">Clipt from the lovely Head where once it grew)</l>
               <l n="137">That while my Nostrils draw the vital Air,</l>
               <l n="138">This Hand, which won it, shall for ever wear.</l>
               <l n="139">He spoke, and speaking in proud Triumph spread</l>
               <l n="140">The long-contended Honours of her Head.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="141"> But <hi rend="italic">Umbriel</hi>, hateful <hi rend="italic">Gnome</hi>! forbears not so; </l>
               <l n="142">He breaks the Vial whence the Sorrows flow.</l>
               <l n="143"> Then see! the <hi rend="italic">Nymph</hi> in beauteous Grief appears, </l>
               <l n="144">Her Eyes half languishing, half drown'd in Tears;</l>
               <l n="145">On her heav'd Bosom hung her drooping Head,</l>
               <l n="146">Which, with a Sigh, she rais'd; and thus she said.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="147">For ever curs'd be this detested Day,</l>
               <l n="148">Which snatch'd my best, my fav'rite Curl away!</l>
               <l n="149">Happy! ah ten times happy, had I been,</l>
               <l n="150"> If <hi rend="italic">Hampton-Court</hi> these Eyes had never seen! </l>
               <l n="151">Yet am not I the first mistaken Maid,</l>
               <l n="152"> By Love of <hi rend="italic">Courts</hi> to num'rous Ills betray'd. <pb n="39" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.39.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="153">Oh had I rather un-admir'd remain'd</l>
               <l n="154"> In some lone Isle, or distant <hi rend="italic">Northern</hi> Land; </l>
               <l n="155"> Where the gilt <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Chariot_" corresp="Chariot">Chariot</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Chariot" target="Chariot_" type="gloss">May be a reference to the chariot
                     driven by Helios (whose identity was later subsumed into that of Apollo), the
                     god of the sun and a Titan, in order to mark the waxing and waning of daylight.
                     He was complemented by his sisters, Eos and Selene, who personified the Dawn
                     and the Moon, respectively. </note> never
                  mark'd the way, </l>
               <l n="156"> Where none learn <hi rend="italic">Ombre</hi>, none e'er taste <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Bohea_" corresp="Bohea">Bohea</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Bohea" target="Bohea_" type="gloss">A black tea that originated in
                     China's Buyi hills, for which it is named, and was of relatively low quality.
                     (<hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note>! </l>
               <l n="157">There kept my Charms conceal'd from mortal Eye,</l>
               <l n="158">Like Roses that in Desarts bloom and die.</l>
               <l n="159">What mov'd my Mind with youthful Lords to rome?</l>
               <l n="160">O had I stay'd, and said my Pray'rs at home!</l>
               <l n="161"> 'Twas this, the Morning <hi rend="italic">Omens</hi> did foretel; </l>
               <l n="162"> Thrice from my trembling hand the <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Patch-box_" corresp="Patch-box">Patch-box</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Patch-box" target="Patch-box_" type="gloss">A small and rectangular (at times
                     oval) box with beauty patches, small pieces of class with a sticky side, which were worn by ladies of fashion                             during the eighteenth century for decorative purposes or to cover a blemish. A patch
                     box was bejeweled and made of gold, and could also be painted/enameled with
                     amorous scenes. A patch could have the appearance of a star, an animal, a
                     insect, a figure, a crescent, or a spot. The location of a patch also
                     contributed to its signification. "Patch Box." <hi rend="italic">Encyclopedia Britannica Online.
                        Encyclopedia Britannica</hi>. Web. 3 Dec. 2015.
                     http://www.britannica.com/topic/patch-box.</note> fell; </l>
               <l n="163"> The tott'ring <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="China_" corresp="China">China</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="China" target="China_" type="gloss">"China" in this context refers to
                     porcelain dishes that came via trade routes from China. These trade routes
                     between China and England first began to flourish during the eighteenth century, and
                     many rich English citizens were obsessed with obtaining as many exotic
                     Chinese goods as they could to show off their wealth. Chinese porcelain was
                     much finer and of higher quality than anything that European makers could produce for
                     a few more decades. Chang, Elizabeth. "The
                     Chinese Taste in Eighteenth-Century England." <hi rend="italic">Eighteenth-Century Fiction</hi> 25
                     (2012): 248-50. University of Toronto Press. Web. 8 Dec. 2015.</note> shook
                  without a Wind, </l>
               <l n="164"> Nay, <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Poll_" corresp="Poll">Poll</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Poll" target="Poll_" type="gloss">Short for "Polly," surely the name of 
                  a pet parrot owned by Belinda.</note> sate
                  mute, and <hi rend="italic">Shock</hi> was most Unkind! </l>
               <l n="165"> A <hi rend="italic">Sylph</hi> too warn'd me of the Threats of Fate, </l>
               <l n="166">In mystic Visions, now believ'd too late!</l>
               <l n="167">See the poor Remnants of this slighted Hair!</l>
               <l n="168">My hands shall rend what ev'n thy own did spare.</l>
               <l n="169">This, in two sable Ringlets taught to break,</l>
               <l n="170">Once gave new Beauties to the snowie Neck.</l>
               <l n="171">The Sister-Lock now sits uncouth, alone,</l>
               <l n="172"> And in its Fellow's Fate foresees its own; <pb n="40" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.40.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="173">Uncurl'd it hangs, the fatal Sheers demands;</l>
               <l n="174">And tempts once more thy sacrilegious Hands.</l>
               <l n="175">Oh hadst thou, Cruel! been content to seize</l>
               <l n="176">Hairs less in sight, or any Hairs but these!</l>
            </lg>
         </div>
         <div type="engraving">
               <pb n="[Engraving]" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:canto.v.image.jpg"/>
               <head>
                     <ref target="Figure_5_" corresp="Figure_5">Figure 5</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Figure_5" target="Figure_5_">
                                <graphic url="PageImages/Pope-RL:canto.v.image.jpg"/>
                            </note>
                        </head>
         </div>
         <pb n="41" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.41.jpg"/>
         <div n="5" type="canto">
            <head> THE RAPE <hi rend="italic">of the</hi> LOCK. <lb/>
                        </head>
            <head type="subtitle">
               <hi rend="italic">CANTO V.</hi>
            </head>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="1">SHE said: the pitying Audience melt in Tears,</l>
               <l n="2"> But <hi rend="italic">Fate</hi> and <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Jove_" corresp="Jove">Jove</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Jove" target="Jove_" type="gloss">Jove, also known as Jupiter, was
                     the king of the Roman gods. He is the roman equivalent to the Greek god Zeus. </note> had stopp'd the <hi rend="italic">Baron</hi>'s <ref target="Ears_" corresp="Ears">Ears</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Ears" target="Ears_" type="gloss">That is, the reason that the Baron cannot
                  hear Belinda's cries is because of the intervention of the gods Fate and Jove. Just as the gods
                  intervene in the lives of heroic characters from epic, here they interfere in the lives of 
                  trivial British aristocrats.</note>. </l>
               <l n="3"> In vain <hi rend="italic">Thalestris</hi> with Reproach assails, </l>
               <l n="4"> For who can move when fair <hi rend="italic">Belinda</hi> fails? </l>
               <l n="5"> Not half to fixt the <hi rend="italic">Trojan</hi> cou'd remain, </l>
               <l n="6"> While <hi rend="italic">Anna</hi> begg'd and <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Dido_" corresp="Dido">Dido</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Dido" target="Dido_" type="gloss">In the <hi rend="italic">Aeneid</hi> by Virgil, Aeneas,
                     the lover of Dido, queen of Carthage, is told by Zeus he must leave Italy
                     because of fate. As a last effort Dido sends her sister Anna to persuade him
                     to stay in Italy, but she fails.</note> rag'd in vain. </l>
               <l n="7"> To Arms, to Arms! the bold <hi rend="italic">Thalestris</hi> cries, </l>
               <l n="8"> And swift as Lightning to the Combate flies. <pb n="42" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.42.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="9">All side in Parties, and begin th' Attack;</l>
               <l n="10"> Fans clap, Silks russle, and tough <ref target="Whalebones_" corresp="Whalebones">Whalebones</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Whalebones" target="Whalebones_" type="gloss">Whalebone was used to stiffen women's clothing, such as corsets and hoop skirts.</note>crack; </l>
               <l n="11">Heroes and Heroins Shouts confus'dly rise,</l>
               <l n="12">And base, and treble Voices strike the Skies.</l>
               <l n="13">No common Weapons in their Hands are found,</l>
               <l n="14">Like Gods they fight, nor dread a mortal Wound.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="15"> * So when bold <hi rend="italic">Homer</hi> makes the Gods
                     <ref target="Gods_" corresp="Gods">engage</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Gods" target="Gods_" type="gloss">Homer makes the gods fight in his
                     tales similar to the way Pope forces the characters in the poem to
                     fight.</note>, </l>
               <l n="16">And heav'nly Breasts with human Passions rage;</l>
               <l n="17"> 'Gainst <hi rend="italic">
                     <ref target="Pallas_" corresp="Pallas">Pallas</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Pallas" target="Pallas_" type="gloss">Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom</note>,<ref target="Mars_" corresp="Mars">Mars,</ref>
                     <note xml:id="Mars" target="Mars_" type="gloss">Mars was the Roman god of war.</note>; <ref target="Latona_" corresp="Latona">Latona</ref>
                     <note xml:id="Latona" target="Latona_" type="gloss">In Greek mythology, Latona was the mother of
                        Apollo and Diana and the mistress of Zeus.</note>,
                        <ref target="Hermes_" corresp="Hermes">Hermes</ref>
                     <note xml:id="Hermes" target="Hermes_" type="gloss">Hermes was the messenger god of Greek mythology, known as                       Mercury in Roman mythology. </note>
                                </hi>, Arms; </l>
               <l n="18"> And all <hi rend="italic">Olympus</hi> rings with loud Alarms. </l>
               <l n="19">
                  <hi rend="italic">Jove</hi>'s Thunder roars, Heav'n trembles all around; </l>
               <l n="20"> Blue <hi rend="italic">Neptune</hi> storms, the bellowing Deeps resound; </l>
               <l n="21">
                  <hi rend="italic">Earth</hi> shakes her nodding Tow'rs, the Ground gives way; </l>
               <l n="22">And the pale Ghosts start at the Flash of Day!</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="23"> Triumphant <hi rend="italic">Umbriel</hi> on a <ref target="Sconce_" corresp="Sconce">Sconce's</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Sconce" target="Sconce_" type="gloss">A lantern with a handle and a shield, so that
                  you could carry the light around.</note>Height </l>
               <l n="24">Clapt his glad Wings, and sate <ref target="sate_" corresp="sate">to view
                     the Fight</ref>
                  <note xml:id="sate" target="sate_" type="gloss">That is, perched. Pope adds in a footnote: "Minerva
                     in like manner, during the Battle of Ulysses with the Suitors in Odyss. perches
                     on a beam of the roof to behold it."</note>,</l>
               <l n="25">Propt on their Bodkin Spears the Sprights survey</l>
               <l n="26">The growing Combat, or assist the Fray.</l>
            </lg>
            <pb n="43" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.43.jpg"/>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="27"> While thro' the Press enrag'd <hi rend="italic">Thalestries</hi> flies, </l>
               <l n="28">And scatters Deaths around from both her Eyes,</l>
               <l n="29"> A <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Beau_" corresp="Beau">Beau</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Beau" target="Beau_" type="gloss">A dandy; a many perhaps overly concerned
                  with his appearance</note> and <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Witling_" corresp="Witling">Witling</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Witling" target="Witling_" type="gloss">Someone who aspiring to become a wit (and probably failing at it.</note> perish'd in the Throng, </l>
               <l n="30"> One dy'd in <hi rend="italic">Metaphor</hi>, and one in <hi rend="italic">Song</hi>. </l>
               <l n="31">
                  <hi rend="italic">O cruel Nymph! a living Death I bear</hi>, </l>
               <l n="32"> Cry'd <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Dapperwit_" corresp="Dapperwit">Dapperwit</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Dapperwit" target="Dapperwit_" type="gloss">A character in William Wycherley's 1671 play <hi rend="italic">Love in a Wood.</hi>
                                </note>, and sunk beside his
                  Chair. </l>
               <l n="33"> A mournful Glance Sir <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Fopling_" corresp="Fopling">Fopling</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Fopling" target="Fopling_" type="gloss">Reference to Sir Fopling Flutter, a
                     character in George Etherege's 1677 play <hi rend="italic">The Man of Mode</hi>.</note> upwards cast, </l>
               <l n="34"> * <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Camilla" corresp="Camilla_">Those Eyes are made
                        so killing</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Camilla" target="Camilla_" type="gloss">Pope later added a footnote: "The Words of
                     a Song in the Opera of Camilla" <hi rend="italic">Camilla</hi>  was a popular opera, first 
                     staged in London in 1706 and frequently revived after that. Unlike many operas of the 
                  period, which were sung in Italian, this was in English, based on an Italian opera by Silvio
                  Stampiglio.</note> ---was his last: </l>
               <l n="35"> Thus on <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Meander_" corresp="Meander">Meander</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Meander" target="Meander_" type="gloss">in Greek Mythology, Meander was both
                     the name of a river god and for the river that was his home. "Meander" now is a general turn for a bend in a river,                       or to describe anything or anyone that takes a roundabout route to a destination.
                    </note> 's flow'ry
                  Margin lies </l>
               <l n="36">Th' expiring Swan, and as he sings he dies.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="37"> As bold Sir <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Plume_" corresp="Plume">Plume</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Plume" target="Plume_" type="gloss">The name gives insight to the
                     character. A plume is an arrangement of feathers used by a bird for display or
                     worn by a person for ornament. Plume is also used as a verb 'to plume oneself'
                     synonymous to the action of preening at one's looks. <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note>
                  had drawn <hi rend="italic">Clarissa</hi> down, </l>
               <l n="38">
                  <hi rend="italic">Chloe</hi> stept in, and kill'd him with a Frown; </l>
               <l n="39">She smil'd to see the <ref target="doughty_" corresp="doughty">doughty</ref>
                  <note xml:id="doughty" target="doughty_" type="gloss">Brave, capable, and determined,
                     also marked by fearless resolution. <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note>Hero slain,</l>
               <l n="40">But at her Smile, the Beau reviv'd again.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="41"> + Now <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="scales_" corresp="scales">Jove</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="scales" target="scales_" type="gloss">Jove, the head of the Roman system
                     of deities, is here responsible for putting the social order back into
                     balance, and is weighing the contending claims of the men and the women. These lines refer to 
                     a moment in Homer's <hi rend="italic">Iliad</hi> where Zeus had used scales to
                     balance the claims of Hector and Achilles and determined their fates.</note>
                  suspends his golden Scales in Air, </l>
               <l n="42"> Weighs the Mens Wits against the Lady's Hair; <pb n="44" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.44.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="43">The doubtful Beam long nods from side to side;</l>
               <l n="44">At length the Wits mount up, the Hairs <ref target="subside_" corresp="subside">subside</ref>
                  <note xml:id="subside" target="subside_" type="gloss">Jove weighs the battle in the men's
                     favor, but Belinda overcomes this by tossing snuff in the Baron's face.</note>.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="45"> See fierce <hi rend="italic">Belinda</hi> on the <hi rend="italic">Baron</hi> flies, </l>
               <l n="46">With more than usual Lightning in her Eyes;</l>
               <l n="47">Nor fear'd the Chief th' unequal Fight to try,</l>
               <l n="48">Who sought no more than on his Foe <ref target="die_" corresp="die">to
                     die</ref>
                  <note xml:id="die" target="die_" type="gloss">"to die" is a common euphemism for orgasm. It was a common poetical term in the 16th and 17th centuries. <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note>.</l>
               <l n="49">But this bold Lord, with manly Strength indu'd,</l>
               <l n="50">She with one Finger and a Thumb subdu'd,</l>
               <l n="51">Just where the Breath of Life his Nostrils drew,</l>
               <l n="52"> A Charge of <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Snuff_" corresp="Snuff">Snuff</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Snuff" target="Snuff_" type="gloss">A fine-ground tobacco, intended for
                     consumption by being sniffed or snorted into the nose.</note> the wily Virgin
                  threw; </l>
               <l n="53"> The <hi rend="italic">Gnomes</hi> direct, to ev'ry <ref target="Atom_" corresp="Atom">Atome</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Atom" target="Atom_" type="gloss">Pope is referring to the ancient theory that
                     posited the "atom" as an infinitely small piece of matter that could not be further divided.</note>just, </l>
               <l n="54">The pungent Grains of titillating Dust.</l>
               <l n="55">Sudden, with starting Tears each Eye o'erflows,</l>
               <l n="56">And the high Dome re-ecchoes to his Nose.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="57">Now meet thy Fate, th' incens'd <ref target="Virago_" corresp="Virago">Virago</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Virago" target="Virago_" type="gloss">A man-like, heroic woman. <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note>cry'd,</l>
               <l n="58"> And drew a deadly <hi rend="italic">Bodkin</hi> from her Side. </l>
               <l n="59">(*The same, his <ref target="n229" corresp="n229">ancient Personage</ref>
                  <note xml:id="n229" target="a229" type="gloss">Pope adds in a footnote: "In
                     imitation of the progress of Agamemnon's sceptre in Homer" Source: Pope,
                     Alexander, and Adolphus William Ward. The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope.
                     London: Macmillan, 1907. Print.</note> to deck,</l>
               <l n="60"> Her great great Grandsire wore about his Neck <pb n="45" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.45.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="61"> In three <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="seal-ring_" corresp="seal-ring">Seal-Rings</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="seal-ring" target="seal-ring_" type="gloss">a finger ring bearing a seal;
                     signet ring. <hi rend="ital">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note>; which after melted down, </l>
               <l n="62"> Form'd a vast <hi rend="italic">Buckle</hi> for his Widow's Gown: </l>
               <l n="63"> Her infant <ref target="Grandame_" corresp="Grandame">Grandame's</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Grandame" target="Grandame_" type="gloss">grandmother</note>
                  <hi rend="italic">Whistle</hi> next it grew, </l>
               <l n="64"> The <hi rend="italic">Bells</hi> she gingled, and the <hi rend="italic">Whistle</hi> blew; </l>
               <l n="65"> Then in a <hi rend="italic">Bodkin</hi> grac'd her Mother's Hairs, </l>
               <l n="66"> Which long she wore, and now <hi rend="italic">Belinda</hi> wears.) </l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="67">Boast not my Fall (he cry'd) insulting Foe!</l>
               <l n="68">Thou by some other shalt be laid as low.</l>
               <l n="69">Nor think, to die dejects my lofty Mind;</l>
               <l n="70">All that I dread, is leaving you behind!</l>
               <l n="71">Rather than so, ah let me still survive,</l>
               <l n="72"> And burn in <hi rend="italic">Cupid</hi> 's Flames,---but burn alive. </l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="73">
                  <hi rend="italic">Restore the Lock</hi>! she cries; and all around </l>
               <l n="74">
                  <hi rend="italic">Restore the Lock</hi>! the vaulted Roofs rebound. </l>
               <l n="75"> Not fierce <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Othello_" corresp="Othello">Othello</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Othello" target="Othello_" type="gloss">In Shakespeare's <hi rend="italic">Othello</hi>, the
                     titular character is tricked into believing his wife Desdemona has been unfaithful by his
                     ensign Iago. A key piece of evidence is Desdemona's handkerchief, which Iago has planted in the room of Othello's                         lieutenant, Cassio.</note> in so loud a Strain </l>
               <l n="76">Roar'd for the Handkerchief that caus'd his Pain.</l>
               <l n="77">But see how oft Ambitious Aims are cross'd,</l>
               <l n="78"> And Chiefs contend 'till all the Prize is lost! <pb n="46" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.46.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="79">The Lock, obtain'd with Guilt, and kept with Pain,</l>
               <l n="80">In ev'ry place is sought, but sought in vain:</l>
               <l n="81">With such a Prize no Mortal must be blest,</l>
               <l n="82">So Heav'n decrees! with Heav'n who can contest?</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="83">Some thought it mounted to the Lunar Sphere,</l>
               <l n="84"> * Since all things lost on Earth, are treasur'd there. </l>
               <l n="85">There Heroe's Wits are kept in pondrous Vases,</l>
               <l n="86"> And Beau's in <hi rend="italic">Snuff-boxes</hi> and <hi rend="italic">Tweezer-Cases</hi>. </l>
               <l n="87">There broken Vows, and Death-bed <ref target="Alms_" corresp="Alms">Alms</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Alms" target="Alms_" type="gloss">gifts of money extended as charity</note>are found,</l>
               <l n="88">And Lovers Hearts with Ends of <ref target="Riband_" corresp="Riband">Riband</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Riband" target="Riband_" type="gloss">a ribbon</note>bound;</l>
               <l n="89">The Courtiers Promises, and Sick Man's Pray'rs,</l>
               <l n="90">The Smiles of Harlots, and the Tears of Heirs,</l>
               <l n="91">Cages for Gnats, and Chains to Yoak a Flea;</l>
               <l n="92">Dry'd Butterflies, and <ref target="Casuistry_" corresp="Casuistry">Tomes of
                     Casuistry</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Casuistry" target="Casuistry_" type="gloss">Thick books of meaningless
                     philosophy through the use of clever but unsound reasoning, especially in
                     relation to moral questions. <hi rend="italic">Oxford English Dictionary</hi>
                                </note>.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="93">But trust the Muse---she saw it upward rise,</l>
               <l n="94">Tho' mark'd by none but quick <ref target="Poetic_" corresp="Poetic">Poetic Eyes:</ref>
                                <note xml:id="Poetic" target="Poetic_" type="gloss">That is, Pope's eyes; he is the only person who can "see" what has happened, as the lock of hair has been transformed into a star in the sky. Buried here is the play on words: "coma," the Latin word for hair, is the root for "comet," celestial bodies that were so named because of the long hair-like trail that followed the main body. There is such a comet depicted in the upper-left hand corner of the plate that precedes this canto.</note>
                            </l>
               <l n="95"> (So <hi rend="italic">Rome</hi>'s great <ref target="Rome_" corresp="Rome">Founder</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Rome" target="Rome_" type="gloss">In popular myth and legend, Rome was founded
                     by Romulus, who ruled for 37 years and then mysteriously disappeared, apparently taken
                     up to the heavens in a whirlwind. Proculus, a friend of Romulus,
                     swore that he saw Romulus ascending to heaven.</note> </l>
               <l n="96"> To <hi rend="italic">Proculus</hi> alone confess'd in view.) <pb n="47" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.47.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="97">A sudden Star, it shot thro' liquid Air,</l>
               <l n="98"> And drew behind a radiant <hi rend="italic">Trail of Hair</hi>. </l>
               <l n="99"> Not <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Berenice_" corresp="Berenice">Berenice</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Berenice" target="Berenice_" type="gloss">Berenice II was the wife of Ptolemy
                     III, the Pharoah of Egypt in the third century BCE. The legend went that Berenice offered to cut off her hair as an offering to the goddess Aphrodite if Ptolemy would return safely home from a dangerous battle. After his safe return, she placed her hair in the temple. But the next morning, the hair had vanished. The court astronomy Conon suggested that the hair had been transformed into a constellation in the night sky, a star cluster that became (and is still) known as the "Coma Berenices," Latin for "Berenice's hair." </note>
                  's Locks first rose so bright, </l>
               <l n="100">The Skies bespangling with dishevel'd Light.</l>
               <l n="101"> The <hi rend="italic">Sylphs</hi> behold it kindling as it flies, </l>
               <l n="102">And pleas'd pursue its Progress thro' the Skies.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="103"> This the <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Beau-monde_" corresp="Beau-monde">Beau-monde</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Beau-monde" target="Beau-monde_" type="gloss">High society.</note> shall from the <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Mall_" corresp="Mall">Mall</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Mall" target="Mall_" type="gloss">
                                    <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/pope-rape-lock/PageImages/view_of_the_mall_in_saint_james's_park_1970.17.132.jpg"/> A broad, tree-lined promenade in St. James's Park in London, where courtiers and other aristocrats would aim to see and be seen. [<hi rend="italic"> Image: View of the Mall in Saint James, around 1710, by an unknown artist. National Gallery, Public Domain.]</hi>
                  </note> survey, </l>
               <l n="104">And hail with Musick its propitious Ray.</l>
               <l n="105"> This, the blest Lover shall for <hi rend="italic">Venus</hi> take, </l>
               <l n="106"> And send up Vows from <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Rosamonda_" corresp="Rosamonda">Rosamonda</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Rosamonda" target="Rosamonda" type="gloss">Rosamonda's Pond was a body of 
                  water in St. James's Park in London, on the site of what is now Buckingham Palace. The pond
                  was named for Rosamund Clifford, the semi-legendary mistress of Henry II in the twelfth century whose relationship                        with the king became a byword for doomed love affairs. In the eighteenth century, the Pond was apparently well known                      as a place for lovers to meet secretly.</note>'s Lake. </l>
               <l n="107"> This <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Partridge_" corresp="Partridge">Partridge</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Partridge" target="Partridge_" type="gloss">John Partridge (1644-c.1714) an
                     astrologer known for publishing almanacs with (generally incorrect) yearly
                     predictions of deaths of notable individuals like the King of France (during a
                     time where France and England were at war).</note>
                  soon shall view in cloudless Skies, </l>
               <l n="108"> When next he looks thro' <hi rend="italic">Galilaeo</hi>'s <ref target="Eyes_" corresp="Eyes">Eyes</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Eyes" target="Eyes_" type="gloss">i.e., the telescope, developed by
                     Galileo Galilei</note>; </l>
               <l n="109">And hence th' Egregious Wizard shall foredoom</l>
               <l n="110"> The Fate of <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="Louis_" corresp="Louis">Louis</ref>
                                </hi>
                  <note xml:id="Louis" target="Louis_" type="gloss">
                                    <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/pope-rape-lock/PageImages/Louis_XIV_of_France.jpg"/>Louis XIV (1638-1715), the King of France. He was for a long time the most powerful and feared ruler in Europe. But the threat that Louis and France posed to their neighbors was checked by the Treaty of Utrecht, signed in 1713, and he died the year after this poem was published. His "Fate," then, was very much up in the air at the time that Pope was writing. <hi rend="italic">[Image: Portrait of Louis XIV by Hyacynthe Rigaud, 1701. Wikimedia Commons</hi>
                                </note>, and the Fall of <hi rend="italic">Rome</hi>.
               </l>
            </lg>
            <lg type="verse_paragraph">
               <l rend="indent" n="111"> Then cease, bright Nymph! to mourn the ravish'd Hair </l>
               <l n="112">Which adds new Glory to the shining Sphere!</l>
               <l n="113">Not all the Tresses that fair Head can boast</l>
               <l n="114"> Shall draw such Envy as the Lock you lost. <pb n="48" facs="PageImages/Pope-RL:p.48.jpg"/>
               </l>
               <l n="115">For, after all the Murders of your Eye,</l>
               <l n="116">When, after Millions slain, your self shall die;</l>
               <l n="117"> When those fair Suns shall sett, as sett they must, </l>
               <l n="118">And all those Tresses shall be laid in Dust;</l>
               <l n="119">
                  <hi rend="italic">This Lock</hi>, the <ref target="Muse_" corresp="Muse">Muse</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Muse" target="Muse_" type="gloss">The Muses are the nine Greek goddesses devoted to the arts; they are often imagined as a source of inspiration for a poet.</note>shall consecrate to Fame, </l>
               <l n="120"> And mid'st the Stars inscribe <hi rend="italic">Belinda</hi>'s Name! </l>
               <l n="121">
                  <hi rend="italic">FINIS</hi>. </l>
            </lg>
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                     <date when="1722">1722</date>
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         <titlePage>
            <titlePart>POEMS<lb/>
                        </titlePart>
            <titlePart>ON<lb/>
                        </titlePart>
            <titlePart>Several Occasions.<lb/>
                        </titlePart>

            <titlePart>BY THE <lb/>
               <ref target="_author" corresp="author">LADY <hi rend="italic">CHUDLEIGH</hi>
                            </ref>
                            <note xml:id="author" target="_author" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">Mary
                     Chudleigh was a poet and early feminist, friends with women like Lady Mary Wortley
                     Montagu and Mary Astell. She is most well-known for her long poem <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="https://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/chudleigh/defence/defence.html">The Ladies Defense</ref>
                                </hi> (1701), published in response to John Sprint’s
                     <hi rend="italic">
                                    <ref target="https://www.google.com/books/edition/The_Bride_woman_s_Counsellor/tMLPJ-fANfEC">The Bride-Woman’s Counsellor</ref>
                                </hi>, a marriage sermon he delivered in
                     1699 expounding on the duty of wives to their husbands. Chudleigh was a devout
                     Anglican, and had no formal education (women were not usually formally educated for a
                     century more), but she was self-taught and read widely. In her late teens, she
                     married Sir George Chudleigh, a Baronet. He was an overbearing husband, and scholars
                     suggest that her own experience was an influence for her writing. However, he did
                     allow her to publish her work, which was not common for women of her stature. To read
                     more about anonymity and women writers, see <ref target="https://www.bl.uk/womens-rights/articles/women-authors-and-anonymity">Greg
                        Buzwell's short essay ot the British Library</ref>. Chudleigh bore six children
                     with her husband. </note>
                        </titlePart>
            <lb/>
            
            <titlePart>The THIRD Edition, Corrected.</titlePart>
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               <publisher>Printed for <persName>BERNARD LINTOT</persName>, at the <placeName>
                                    <hi rend="italic">Cross-<lb/>Keys</hi> between the <hi rend="italic">Temple-Gates</hi>
                                </placeName>.</publisher>
               <date when="1722">MDCCXXII.</date>
                            <lb/>
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         <div type="poem">
            <pb n="45"/>
            <head>
                            <hi rend="italics">To the Ladies.</hi>
                        </head>
            <l n="1">Wife and Servant are the same,</l>
            <l n="2">But only differ in the Name:</l>
            <l n="3">For when that fatal Knot is ty'd,</l>
            <l n="4">Which <ref target="_divorce" corresp="divorce">nothing, nothing can
                  divide</ref>:</l>
            <note xml:id="divorce" target="_divorce" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">Until the middle of the nineteenth century,
               with the passage of the Matrimonial Causes Act of 1857, English society was
               essentially divorceless; members of the gentility and the aristocracy typically
               married for life. The only way to secure a divorce was through a very expensive
               Private Act of Parliament; between 1700 and 1857, fewer than 325 parliamentary
               divorces were granted in England. Almost all were initiated by men, and it was only
               granted for adultery. Women could only seek divorce if the adultery were accompanied
               by extreme cruelty. Those granted to women could be counted on one hand. As a result,
               there were many unhappy marriages, and literature focused on chosing the right mate
               was popular. Those in the lower classes (and sometimes those in the growing middle
               classes) had more flexibility, often simply agreeing among themselves to leave each
               other or through the practice of "wife selling." To read more about the history of
               divorce, see <ref target="https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/heartbreaking-history-of-divorce-180949439/">Amanda Foreman's "The Heartbreaking History of Divorce" for <hi rend="italic">The
                     Smithsonian Magazine</hi>
                            </ref>. </note>
            <l n="5">When she the word obey has said,</l>
            <l n="6">And Man by <ref target="_couverture" corresp="couverture">Law</ref> supreme has
               made,</l>
            <note xml:id="couverture" target="_couverture" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">Upon marriage, a woman became a "femme
               couvert"; her legal identity was subsumed into (or "covered by") her husband's, and
               she was no longer able to take on debt, own property, or engage in contracts.
               Unmarried women and widows could. To read more about this doctrine of couverture,
               which was only modified in the late 19th century, see <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coverture">Wikipedia</ref>. It is worth
               noting that, in the US, it was only in 1974 (with the passage of the Equal Credit
               Opportunity Act) that women could open bank accounts or apply for credit without
               needing a male co-signer. In the UK, a similar law was passed in 1975.</note>
            <l n="7">Then all that's kind is laid aside,</l>
            <l n="8">And nothing left but State and Pride:</l>
            <l n="9">Fierce as an <ref target="_eastern-prince" corresp="eastern-prince">Eastern
                  Prince</ref> he grows,</l>
            <note xml:id="eastern-prince" target="_eastern-prince" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">The Ottoman Empire was the
               largest empire in the world, spanning the 13th through the 20th centuries. As Emily
               Kugler notes in <ref target="https://www.google.com/books/edition/Sway_of_the_Ottoman_Empire_on_English_Id/wLv5V2_79zIC">
                                <hi rend="italic">Sway of the Ottomoan Empire on English Identity in the Long
                     Eighteenth Century</hi>
                            </ref> (2012), the English in the eighteenth century
               depicted the Ottoman world as powerful, moreso than the English themselves, whose
               empire was growing and would reach its height in the 19th century. Hence, Chudleigh
               here uses the "eastern prince" as an image of unchecked power. This is exacerbated by
               perceived differences in personal and political liberties between the English and the
               Turkish subject, and especially the female subject.</note>
            <l n="10">And all his innate Rigor shows:</l>
            <l n="11">Then but to look, to laugh, or speak,</l>
            <l n="12">Will the Nuptial Contract break.</l>
            <l n="13">Like <ref target="_mutes" corresp="mutes">Mutes</ref> she Signs alone must
               make,</l>
            <note xml:id="mutes" target="_mutes" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">For an
               interesting discussion of the "mute" in the Turkish Ottoman Court, see <ref target="https://www.independentliving.org/docs5/mmiles2.html">"Signing in the
                  Seraglio," by M. Miles</ref>.</note>
            <l n="14">And <ref target="_freedom" corresp="freedom">never any Freedom take</ref>:</l>
            <note xml:id="freedom" target="_freedom" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">Chudleigh is drawing on the image of the <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ottoman_Imperial_Harem">Turkish
                  seraglio</ref> as a site of female confinement and sexual enslavement. In British
               literature, the trope of the English captive seeking to regain their "native" or
               natural/innate liberties takes shape "against a detailed representation of the Orient
               as debased and despotic" (<ref target="https://ecf.humanities.mcmaster.ca/wp-content/uploads/sites/15/2015/10/snader.pdf">Snader, "The Oriental Captivity Narrative andn Early English Fiction" 268</ref>).
               Note that Chudleigh refers, in an earlier line, to the husband's "innate Rigor." To
               read more about the way the West viewed the Ottoman Empire as tyrranical and
               despotic, especially when it comes to the image of women, see <ref target="https://www.jstor.org/stable/259479">"From Tyranny to Despotism: The
                  Enlightenment's Unenlightened Image of the Turks"</ref> by Asli Çirakman. </note>
            <l n="15">But still be govern'd by a Nod,</l>
            <l n="16">And fear her Husband as her God:</l>
            <l n="17">Him still must serve, him still obey,</l>
            <l n="18">And nothing act, and nothing say,</l>
            <l n="19">But what her haughty Lord thinks fit,</l>
            <l n="20">Who with the Pow'r, has all the Wit.</l>
            <l n="21">Then shun, oh! shun that wretched <ref target="_state" corresp="state">State</ref>,</l>
                        <note xml:id="state" target="_state" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">The "state" of marriage.</note>
            <l n="22">And all the fawning Flatt'rers
               hate:</l>
            <l n="23">Value your selves, and Men despise,</l>
            <l n="24">You must be proud, if you'll be wise.</l>

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                        <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/headnote-defoe/pageImages/defoe.jpg" style="float:center" width="300px" alt="Frontispiece portrait of Daniel Defoe (1706)" source="https://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/person/mp01230/daniel-defoe" desc="Frontispiece portrait of Defoe (National Portrait Gallery, UK)"/>Daniel Defoe (c. 1660-1731) came to writing fiction in late middle age, after decades in which he did a variety of things. He grew up in a Dissenting household in London; his father, James Foe, made and sold candles. (Daniel added the prefix "de" to his name some time in the 1690s, probably to make himself appear more sophisticated). Since his family were not members of the Church of England, Defoe could not go to either Cambridge or Oxford, but he had a good education at a separate school set up for Dissenters, and it seems as though he intended to become a minister. We do not know why that plan changed, but by the mid-1680s at least, Defoe had set out to make his living as a London tradesman. Defoe ran several businesses in his twenties, thirties, and forties: he owned a factory that made roofing tiles, he sold men's undergarments and stockings, he raised civet cats (for the purposes of making perfume), he invested in a scheme to build diving bells to reach sunken treasure. All of these businesses ultimately failed, and Defoe declared bankruptcy more than once in his life. Lawsuits from the period suggest that Defoe was perhaps not always the most scrupulous businessman in history, either.</p>
            <p>Alongside these business ventures or, to use the lingo of the period, "projects," from his mid-thirties Defoe also pursued a second career, as a writer. In 1697, he wrote <hi rend="italic">An Essay on Projects</hi>, a book that outlined various plans for public and private institutions: a school for young women, insurance schemes for widows and sailors, merchant banks. Writing became a "project" like any other, and eventually it was Defoe's primary occupation. He was a prolific writer of poetry, journalism, conduct literature, economic tracts, political essays, and outright propaganda. Many of these works were published anonymously, so there is a lively and ongoing debate among modern scholars as to exactly how much Defoe wrote in the first two decades of the eighteenth century, and precisely which of the many pamphlets that various people have assigned to him over the years were ones that he actually wrote, But any way you count it, his published output was enormous.</p>
            <p>In 1719, Defoe published <hi rend="italic">The Life and Strange Surprizing Adventures of Robinson Crusoe,</hi> a work that became an instant success and that immediately became a kind of modern myth, one with great staying power in our collective imaginations ever since. Defoe followed that up with a series of extended works of fiction: <hi rend="italic">The Farther Adventures of Robinson Crusoe</hi> (1720), <hi rend="italic">Memoirs of a Cavalier</hi> (1720),<hi rend="italic">Captain Singleton</hi> (1720); <hi rend="italic">Moll Flanders</hi> (1722); <hi rend="italic">Colonel Jacque </hi>(1722), <hi rend="italic">A Journal of the Plague Year</hi> (1722), <hi rend="italic">The Fortunate Mistress</hi> (1724). We now think of these books as important contributors to the history of the novel in English, which would go on in the course of the eighteenth century to become an increasingly popular and sophisticated mode of literature. But Defoe never called these works "novels," and it seems to have been important to him that these extended works of prose fiction seemed to be true stories. Each of these works is narrated in the first person by its protagonist, who sets his or her story in a world that is real and recognizable. And each of these books responds to issues and stories that were circulating in the print media of the day. <hi rend="italic">Robinson Crusoe</hi> responds in general terms to the interest in colonialization and travel narratives, but also more specifically to the story of Alexander Selkirk, a Scottish sailor who, like Crusoe, was marooned on an island for several years. Selkirk told his story to Richard Steele, who wrote it up in his own journal, <hi rend="italic">The Englishman</hi> in 1713. <hi rend="italic">Moll Flanders </hi> responds to the intense public in crime and criminals in the 1720s. <hi rend="italic"> The Fortunate Mistress</hi> is surely a response of sorts to Eliza Haywood's 1723 work <hi rend="italic">Idalia, or, the Unfortunate Mistress</hi>. Given all that he did and wrote in his lifetime, Defoe might be surprised to know that he is now remembered primarily as a writer of fiction, but there is no denying the engrossing power of these works.</p>
            
            
            <p> Image: Daniel Defoe, from the frontispiece to his poem <hi rend="italic">Jure Divino</hi>, published in 1706. (National Portrait Gallery, London)
            
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            <head type="title">THE WHITE MAN'S BURDEN.</head>
            <head type="sub">By Rudyard Kipling.</head>

            <lg>
               <l n="1">Take up the White Man's burden--</l>
               <l n="2" rend="indent">Send forth the best ye breed--</l>

               <l n="3">Go, bind your sons to exile</l>
               <l n="4" rend="indent">To serve your captives' need;</l>
               <l n="5">To wait, in heavy harness</l>
               <l n="6" rend="indent">On fluttered folk and wild--</l>
               <l n="7">Your new-caught sullen peoples,</l>
               <l n="8" rend="indent">Half devil and half child.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <l n="9">Take up the White Man's burden-- </l>
               <l n="10" rend="indent">In patience to abide,</l>
               <l n="11">To veil the threat of terror</l>
               <l n="12" rend="indent">And check the show of pride;</l>
               <l n="13">By open speech and simple,</l>
               <l n="14" rend="indent">An hundred times mad plain,</l>
               <l n="15">To seek another's profit</l>
               <l n="16" rend="indent">And work another's gain.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <l n="17">Take up the White Man's burden--</l>
               <l n="18" rend="indent">The savage wars of peace--</l>
               <l n="19">Fill full the mouth of Famine</l>
               <l n="20" rend="indent">And bid the sickness cease;</l>
               <l n="21">And when your goal is nearest</l>
               <l n="22" rend="indent">(The end for others sought)</l>
               <l n="23">Watch sloth and heathen folly</l>
               <l n="24" rend="indent">Bring all your hope to nought.</l>
            </lg>

            <lg>
               <l n="25">Take up the White Man's burden--</l>
               <l n="26" rend="indent">No iron rule of kings,</l>
               <l n="27">But toil of serf and sweeper--</l>
               <l n="28" rend="indent">The tale of common things.</l>
               <l n="29">The ports ye shall not enter,</l>
               <l n="30" rend="indent">The roads ye shall not tread,</l>
               <l n="31">Go make them with your living</l>
               <l n="32" rend="indent">And mark them with your dead.</l>
            </lg>
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            <lg>
               <l n="33">Take up the White Man's burden--</l>
               <l n="34" rend="indent">And reap his old reward--</l>
               <l n="35">The blame of those ye better,</l>
               <l n="36" rend="indent">The hate of those ye guard--</l>
               <l n="37">The cry of hosts ye humour</l>
               <l n="38" rend="indent">(Ah, slowly!) toward the light:--</l>
               <l n="39">"Why brought ye us from bondage,</l>
               <l n="40" rend="indent">Our loved Egyptian night?"</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <l n="41">Take up the White Man's burden--</l>
               <l n="42" rend="indent">Ye dare not stoop to less--</l>
               <l n="43">Nor call too loud on freedom</l>
               <l n="44" rend="indent">To cloak your weariness.</l>
               <l n="45">By all ye cry or whisper,</l>
               <l n="46" rend="indent">By all ye leave or do,</l>
               <l n="47">The silent sullen peoples</l>
               <l n="48" rend="indent">Shall weigh your God and you.</l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <l n="49">Take up the White Man's burden!</l>
               <l n="50" rend="indent">Have done with childish days--</l>
               <l n="51">The lightly proffered laurel,</l>
               <l n="52" rend="indent">The easy ungrudged praise:</l>
               <l n="53">Comes now, to search your manhood</l>
               <l n="54" rend="indent">Through all the thankless years,</l>
               <l n="55">Cold edged with dear-bought wisdom,</l>
               <l n="56" rend="indent">The judgment of your peers.</l>
            </lg>


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        <p>        <graphic url="https://anthologyassetsdev.lib.virginia.edu/headnote-shakespeare/pageImages/William-Shakespeare.jpg" style="float:right" width="300px" source="https://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/portrait/mw11574" alt="Chandos portrait of William Shakespeare, National Portrait Gallery UK" desc="Chandos portrait of William Shakespeare (National Portrait Gallery, UK)"/>The widely celebrated Renaissance English playwright, poet, and actor William Shakespeare (1564-1616) was born in Stratford-upon-Avon to John and Mary Shakespeare. He wrote professionally during the Elizabethan (during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I) and Jacobian (the reign of King James I) ages. His father held a civic position in Stratford, which likely enabled him to have his children somewhat educated at the local grammar school. At the age of eighteen, Shakespeare wed Anne Hathaway. Six months later, Susanna was born, and in 1585, the fraternal twins, Hamnet (who died at the age of 11 years) and Judith.
    </p>        
<p>        During the Elizabethan period, acting was becoming newly professionalized, but it was still a suspect profession, associated with vagrancy—as the public playhouse was with disruption, noise, theft, and undesirables. Shakespeare was an actor before he became more associated with writing, and his experience as an actor informed his playwriting career. 
</p>        
<p>        Shakespeare’s first works to be published were the poems “Venus and Adonis” (1593) and “The Rape of Lucrece” (1594). He co-founded The Lord Chamberlain’s Men (later called The King’s Men), an acting company for whom he produced dramas regularly. Queen Elizabeth I invested actively in theatre, and sometimes attended public performances. Shakespeare remained with the company for the rest of his life, becoming part of the syndicates that helped establish The Globe and the Blackfriars Theatres. His plays were performed in both the public and private playhouses of London, but <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi> was first performed at Whitehall Palace, on November 1, 1611.
</p>        
<p>        Throughout his career, Shakespeare published 38 plays and 154 sonnets as well as other poems. While about half his plays were published in quarto form during his lifetime, almost all were published or republished in the First Folio of 1623 (the page images in our digital edition are from the First Folio, as digitized by the Folger Shakespeare Library). Only 230 of the first 1000 printed folios have survived. 
</p>        
<p>        Unlike many writers of his era, Shakespeare lived to see great popular success in his own lifetime. During the Elizabethan period, he was not the most critically-acclaimed playwright--that honor went to Christopher Marlowe, who died just before Shakespeare began writing in earnest. During the 18th century, Shakespeare’s reputation as the Bard was solidified, in part by the work of actor and playwright David Garrick--before that, he was an important national poet, but not the icon he is today. His work is set apart by its broad appeal—he drew from many popular ballads and reworked well-known contemporary tales, and did not depend on the more fully-formed classical education that informed Marlowe’s works. He was linguistically innovative, delighting in wordplay and developing new words that continue to shape our vocabulary today. Shakespeare died at the age of 52 and is buried at the Holy Trinity Church in Stratford. His final play was <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi>, published posthumously, in the First Folio.  
</p>        
<p>        Among the many critical approaches to <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi> available, it is often discussed in terms of political power and the nature of governance, exploration and imperial expansion, wrath and forgiveness, and theatricality or authorship itself. In the play, Prospero’s power in Milan is usurped by his brother, Antonio, and he and his daughter Miranda are cast adrift and exiled. They come to rest on the shores of an unnamed Mediterranean island, though this island often stands in for the New World that was then being colonised by England. In this reading, Ariel and Caliban, who was born on the island, are representatives of the land’s native inhabitants. One reason to think of the text in this way is because a historical model for Prospero, John Dee, was an advisor to Elizabeth I, and he is known to have advocated for the imperial expansion of England into the Atlantic. The wreck of the Sea Venture, a ship bound with supplies for Jamestown in 1609, is also a possible warrant. Several conversations in <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi> suggest that the nature of good governance is of special thematic importance to the play. 
</p>        
<p>        The usurped, patriarchal figure Prospero is consumed with wrath and a desire for revenge against those who cast him out (even though he fully admits he was paying more attention to his books than his state); this underlines another popular reading of the play, which focuses on the value of forgiveness, perhaps related to the question of good governance. The tool of Prospero’s revenge is the magical conjuration of <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi> that wreaks havoc on his enemies. However, over the course of the play, he forgives Antonio and casts aside his power.  This approach to <hi rend="italic">The Tempest</hi> is of less interest to contemporary scholars, who tend today to be more focused on the politics of the play--or the complications to the narrative of forgiveness posed by the marriage orchestrated between Ferdinand and Miranda, among other such complications. 
</p>        
<p>        Some scholars have examined Prospero, the powerful magician, father, and stage-director at the center of the play, as a stand-in for Shakespeare himself. In this reading, Prospero’s magic is a kind of stagecraft, and it derives from his books and “secret studies.” Through his magic he governs the behavior and worldview of others, and shapes the perceptions of the audience. The several references to the real-time performance of the play also encourages us to see it as a meditation on theatricality and stagecraft. Given that this is Shakespeare’s last play, and that Prospero is the central agent in its action, many have read Prospero’s renunciation of magic as Shakespeare’s own farewell to the stage. However, as noted above, biographical knowledge of the author is sparse, and this is one interpretation among many.
</p>        
        <p>        The image included here, via the <ref target="https://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/portrait/mw11574">National Portrait Gallery UK</ref>, is the “Chandos Portrait” of Shakespeare, named after an early owner of the painting. It was likely painted by John Taylor from life, though its exact date of creation is unknown.
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                <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/eliot-waste-land/notes/eliot-evans.jpeg" style="float:right" width="300px" alt="Modernist portrait in watercolor of T. S. Eliot by Powys Evans (1920)" source="https://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/portrait/mw113748" desc="Powys Evans, Portrait of T. S. Eliot (National Portrait Gallery, UK)"/>Thomas Sterns Eliot (1888-1965) was born in
                St. Louis, Missouri, to a wealthy family historically from New England; his father
                was a business man, and his mother a social worker and a poet. He lived in St. Louis
                for much of his youth, studying at a college preparatory school affiliated with
                Washington University, before leaving for Massachusetts. He earned a BA from Harvard
                in 1909, and continued on to earn a MA, both degrees in literature. Youthful
                attempts at poetry failed, but during his college years he became much more
                successful and he met many influential people, including the future publisher of <hi rend="italic">The Waste Land</hi>. Eliot also studied philosophy at the Sorbonne
                and Sanskrit, again at Harvard. It is likely that his natural tendency toward books
                was enhanced by physical limitations caused by a hernia; he that he focused so much
                of his energy on literature. As the first World War broke out, Eliot was heading to
                Oxford on a scholarship, but he spent a lot of time in London, which was accessible
                by train. There, he met the poet Ezra Pound, to whom Eliot dedicated <hi rend="italic">The Waste Land</hi>. Having left his first love, Emily Hale, in
                the US, he married Vivienne Haigh-Wood in 1915—though they did not have a happy
                relationship and eventually separated (Vivienne died in a mental asylum, and Eliot
                remarried very late in life to the 30-year old Esmé Fletcher. Eliot officially
                renounced US citizenship for British citizenship in 1927. </p>
            <p> Eliot’s first major poetic success was "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,"
                published in 1915 in Poetry, an important magazine then edited by Pound. Seven years
                later, he published <hi rend="italic">The Waste Land</hi>, and after that, several other poems and plays.
                His playful collection of poems, <hi rend="italic">Old Possum’s Book of Practical
                    Cats</hi>, became the basis for the hit Broadway musical <hi rend="italic">Cats</hi>. His last major work was <hi rend="italic">The Four Quartets</hi>,
                published in four separate named parts from 1936 to 1942. It was this work that led
                to the Nobel Prize in Literature, which he was awarded in 1948, "for his
                outstanding, pioneer contribution to present-day poetry." Eliot also wrote plays and
                literary criticism. To learn more about Eliot, you might find <ref target="https://www.thoughtco.com/biography-of-t-s-eliot-poet-playwright-and-essayist-4780373">Angelica Frey’s biography</ref> of interest. This headnote draws on material
                from this article and other commonly available web sources. Eliot was also <ref target="https://forward.com/culture/142722/ts-eliots-on-again-off-again-anti-semitism/">something of an anti-semite</ref>, often expressing stereotypical beliefs about
                Jewish people. His friend and mentor Ezra Pound, however, was not only anti-Semitic
                but <ref target="https://www.thenation.com/article/archive/coming-to-terms-with-ezra-pounds-politics/">fascist as well, and under indictment for treason against the US</ref>, he
                ended up in St. Elizabeths Hospital, a federal mental institution in Southeast Washington,
                DC. </p>

             <p>
                        <hi rend="italic">The Waste Land</hi> is a modernist text. Modernism is a philosophical and aesthetic
                movement of the early 20th century, broadly 1890-1940, which developed after and as
                a result of the innovations of the industrial revolution. The industrial revolution,
                which began in the 18th century and culminated in the middle of the 19th century,
                radically altered the basic nature of life in Western society and ushered in the
                technological era we experience today. In literary history, modernism reached its
                most clear articulation during the period of World War I, which seemed to epitomize
                the mechanized destruction of older forms of human experience. Factory production
                turned people into cogs in a much larger machine; new work in science saw the
                development of mustard gas and other forms of chemical warfare used for the first
                time in World War I; so too with the machine gun, the tank, the bomb, all among the
                new technologies of death that killed millions and demolished the landscape of much
                of Western Europe. <hi rend="italic">The Waste Land</hi> was the work that cemented Eliot’s reputation as
                an important writer in the modernist movement. The title of the poem is virtually a
                direct allusion to the effect of shelling. Though Eliot himself dismissed this
                reading, <ref target="https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2023/01/ts-eliot-the-waste-land-poem-anniversary/672231/">it is difficult not to see his work through this lens</ref>. The panoramic
                photograph below, from the <ref target="https://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205072732">Imperial War Museum</ref>, shows the ruins of a farm after the
                Battle of the Somme in 1916, captured by Lieutenant Ernest Brooks. Modernist poets
                and artists rejected the aesthetic forms of the previous generations and the mode of
                storytelling that often accompanied them—for instance, the realism of the 19th
                century was rejected in favor of fragmented, daring modes of expression that tried
                to capture a new, broken reality. Modernist writers like James Joyce, Virginia
                Woolf, T. S. Eliot, Marianne Moore, and Gertrude Stein channeled the questions raised by the modern
                world—in particular the question of whether and to what extent it is possible to
                tell stories or make art in this brave new world—into the very fabric of their work.
                Artists in many media were responding as well—in music, Claude Debussey and Igor
                Stravinsky were creating radically new modes of expression; in painting, Georges
                Braque and Pablo Picasso built on the experimentations of the Impressionists, who
                fractured light in pursuit of new ways of seeing. The first portrait of Eliot, above (1920), was painted by Powys Evans, also a modernist most well-known for his caricatures (<ref target="https://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/person/mp01450/thomas-stearns-ts-eliot">National Portrait Gallery UK</ref>). To read more about the impact of
                the first World War on the development of modernism in literature, you might find
                <ref target="https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/heritage/out-of-the-wasteland-the-first-world-war-and-modernism-1.2190829">this accessible article from <hi rend="italic">The Irish Times</hi>
                        </ref> interesting; the
                article touches on <hi rend="italic">The Waste Land</hi> and several other key
                pieces of literature from the era. </p>
           
            <p> Perhaps one of the most challenging and influential of texts in all of Modernist
                literature, <hi rend="italic">The Waste Land</hi> features multiple characters, multiple voices, and
                multiple vignettes flitting in and out of visibility. Published in 1922 (first in a
                London journal, then in an American one, and finally as a standalone book with
                footnotes by the author), the long poem is most often examined as a response to the
                shattering experience of the first World War, using the grail legend as a loosely
                connective thread.
           <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/eliot-waste-land/notes/eliot-beaton.jpeg" style="float:right" width="300px" source="https://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/portrait/mw18412" alt="Beaton photographic portrait of Eliot (1956)" desc="Photographic portrait of Eliot by Cecil Beaton (National Portrait Gallery, UK)"/>The grail has a long and varied literary history, possibly
                beginning with early fertility rituals. In the 12th century, it was given Christian
                meaning through Chrétien de Troyes’ early medieval romance <hi rend="italic">Perceval</hi>. It is also the
                holy object sought by the Arthurian knights, popularized in Thomas Malory’s <hi rend="italic">Le Morte
                d'Arthur</hi> (1485). The grail in Western Christian contexts is associated with the
                resurrection of Jesus, specifically the cup that was used to hold the blood of
                Christ. Throughout medieval Arthurian romance, the grail was guarded by the Fisher
                King, a Christ-like character, depicted as infertile or wounded—which also becomes a
                metaphor for the state of his kingdom. His wounds (and those of the land) will be
                healed when the quest is completed by the hero asking the Fisher King the right
                question: whom does the grail serve? There are many variations of the story, from
                many different cultural contexts. Eliot uses the grail quest to heal the Fisher King
                as a broad metaphor for the wounded modern world, torn apart by modernity and the
                cataclysmic violence of the Great War. You can see something of the style of modernism in the second photographic portrait of Eliot here, by Cecil Beaton (1956), housed in the <ref target="https://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/person/mp01450/thomas-stearns-ts-eliot">National Portrait Gallery UK</ref>.</p>
            
            <p>Eliot’s poem is as challenging--and rewarding for the curious reader--as it is
                influential; however, it can be read fruitfully without a deep understanding of the
                literary tradition that informs it. For a detailed discussion of the many allusions
                and other references in <hi rend="italic">The Waste Land</hi>, see Allyson Booth’s <ref target="https://link.springer.com/book/10.1057/9781137482846#toc">
                            <hi rend="italic">Reading</hi> The
                    Waste Land <hi rend="italic">from the Bottom Up</hi>
                        </ref> (2015). The first pages of each chapter are
                available as free preview, but your institution may have electronic access to the
                book as a whole. </p>
            <p>
                        <graphic url="https://media.iwm.org.uk/ciim5/34/618/mid_000000.jpg" style="float:middle" alt="photgraph of the Somme battlefield 1916" source="https://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205191411" desc="Photograph of the Somme battlefield, 1916 (Imperial War Museum)"/>
                    </p>
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            <p>
                        <graphic url="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/30/Aphra_Behn_by_Peter_Lely_ca._1670.jpg" style="float:center" width="300px" alt="Portrait of Aphra Behn by Sir Peter Lely, c.1670" source="https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Aphra_Behn_by_Peter_Lely_ca._1670.jpg" desc="Lely, Portrait of Aphra Behn (1670)"/>Aphra Behn (c1640-1689) was perhaps the most
                versatile, and was certainly one of the most important writers of the late
                seventeenth century in English. She wrote and translated poetry, translated works of
                science, published long works of fiction, and many authored many plays. It was as a
                playwright that Behn was probably most successful in her own lifetime. Between 1670
                and 1689, a couple dozen of her plays were staged in London; some of them continue
                to be revived even now, most notably <hi rend="italic">The Rover.</hi>
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            <p>We know very little of Aphra Behn’s life before she started her writing career in
                London in the early 1670s. She never wrote a memoir (which is not surprising; people
                did not do that kind of thing in her era), and relatively few letters have survived.
                If she kept any kind of journal or diary, it has long since been lost. The lack of
                public information about her life before the age of about thirty makes it clear,
                though, that she did not come from a wealthy or prominent family. Scholars, working
                largely with parish records and surviving government documents, have pieced together
                some things. But often these are simply informed guesses rather than facts that we
                can know for certain. The best biography is Janet Todd’s <hi rend="italic">The
                    Secret Life of Aphra Behn</hi>, and what I note below relies on Todd’s work.</p>

            <p>
                        <hi rend="italic">When and where was she born? who were her parents?</hi> We cannot
                be sure. The best research we have indicated that was probably the person who is
                recorded in a baptismal record as “Eaffrey” Johnson, born in December 1640 to a
                Bartholomew and Elizabeth Johnson from Bishopsbourne, a town in Kent near
                Canterbury. The Johnsons were not a wealthy family, but they were not desperately
                poor, either; Bartholomew worked as a barber and at one time was in charge of
                supervising the poor in a parish in Canterbury.</p>

            <p>
                        <hi rend="italic">How did she get the name Behn? and how did she pronounce it?</hi>
                Again, we are not sure, though the name seems to have come from a marriage she had
                in the 1650s or 1660s. She may have married a man called Johann Behn, who shows up
                in some business and shipping records of this period. No one has found a marriage
                certificate. The marriage does not seem to have lasted all that long; maybe he died,
                since she seems to be referred to as a widow in a single letter. We are not sure as
                to how she pronounced her last name: like “ben”? like “bean”? like “bane”? opinions
                vary.</p>

            <p>
                        <hi rend="italic">Did she really go to Surinam in the 1660s?</hi> Maybe, though the
                evidence for that is the narrator’s claim in <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi>. Which
                might be true (Janet Todd believes her, and a lot of the circumstantial detail in
                    <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> would be hard to invent if a person had not been
                there), but there is much in <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> that is obvious
                fabrication, so she might be making her trip there up as well and be relating
                information that she got at second hand. The story purports to be a true, first-hand
                account of events in Surinam. But, in addition to inventing the story of the African
                prince, Behn also seems to have invented the idea that her father was going to be
                the lieutenant governor of the colony, as the narrator of that story claims; there
                is no chance that her father was ever in a position to get such a significant job,
                and he may very well have been dead by the time of her (purported) sojourn in
                Surinam. There is is no independent evidence, like a government report or a ship’s
                manifest, that places her in Surinam, so we cannot be certain one way or
                another.</p>

            <p>
                        <hi rend="italic">Did she really work as a spy? Yes, this we know.</hi> In the 1660s,
                Aphra Behn was sent to Antwerp as a spy on behalf of the English government; her
                mission (which involved trying to turn an English man there against the Dutch) seems
                to have failed. She used the code name “Astrea” (a name associated in mythology with
                the goddess of justice), a name that she continued to use as a poetic name
                throughout her career. Behn may have done some other intelligence work for the
                government at other times in her 20s. We do not know why she stopped her mission,
                but she complained about not being paid, and at least one other person disparaged
                her work. She may have not been cut out to be a spy.</p>

            <p>
                        <hi rend="italic">When do we start to know unambiguous facts about her?</hi> In the
                early 1670s, Behn started working in the theater as a playwright for the Duke’s
                Company, one of the two theater troupes licensed to perform in London. From that
                point on until her death in 1689, we know a lot about her professional life as a
                writer from the plays that she staged, the books that she published, and the things
                that people said about her. In these decades, Behn was one of the two leading
                playwrights on the London stage; the other was John Dryden. In an era when many
                plays were written by amateurs, aristocrats who would not want to be seen as
                exerting themselves for money (Katherine Philips and William Wycherley would be
                examples of this) Behn and Dryden were the professional playwrights, each under
                contract (and therefore under pressure) to produce new works for the repertoire;
                each supporting him or herself on their earnings. Like Dryden, Behn also wrote and
                translated poetry. Behn also published fiction, something that Dryden did not do,
                and her work is an important precursor of the eighteenth-century novel in
                English.</p>

            <p>Trying to make a living as a writer was difficult. It was hard then as it is now, for
                playwrights to follow the movement of audience taste, and hard to know if the many
                hours of effort that go into writing and staging a play would be met with success
                until the moment the production was staged. A hit could make a fair amount of money
                (authors would be paid out of gate receipts and could also get money for selling the
                rights to the print copy of the script), but a flop could be a costly waste of time
                and effort on everyone’s part. The period when Behn was writing was also a
                politically contentious time, and playwrights could be subject to censorship if they
                offended the wrong person. Writers hoped to get support from wealthy patrons, which
                is why almost all works of this period are prefaced by dedications, letters of
                extravagant praise aimed at people who the author is hoping will provide money or at
                least convince their wealthy friends to buy the book or attend the play. Behn was
                very prolific, and successful in the sense that she had many plays staged and many
                works published and read, but she had to keep writing to maintain herself and never
                seems to have made a lot of money.</p>

            <p>It was particularly hard being a professional woman writer, and Behn seems to have
                blazed a trail here; there is probably no other woman writing in English who we
                could call a professional before she started working in the theater in the 1670s. It
                was considered immodest for a woman to put herself forward as a public figure in
                this period, which is why many women who wrote expressed reluctance at their work
                being published; a lot of their work remains in manuscript. Male critics of the
                eighteenth century often contrasted Behn, the public and professional writer, with Katherine Philips, who was cast as a model for genteel amateur woman writer; the contrast between “Astrea” (Behn's nickname) and “Orinda” (a nickname that Philips claimed)
                was usually cast in terms that favored the latter for her gentility and modesty.
                Behn was attacked for being a professional, sometimes compared with prostitutes.
                Here a contrast with John Dryden becomes stark. Dryden was no less a professional, but he was awarded with university
                degrees, became the poet laureate, and was in his later years considered a kind of
                sage. Behn, meanwhile, seems to ahve struggled for income and respectability.</p>

            <p>One final note about Behn. In many ways, her career strikes us modern, and her prose
                works in particular have a lot of features that now seem to pave the way for the
                modern novel. But Behn was also a very conservative, traditional person in many
                ways. She was a staunch supporter of the Stuart monarchy and of the absolutist form
                of government that the Stuart kings Charles I and James II believed in. She was a
                woman of her time, trying to make a career as a writer and public figure in an era
                when this was very challenging for anyone, and especially difficult for a women from
                a modest background. Dramatist, poet, novelist, translator, professional: Aphra Behn
                left us one of the richest bodies of work of any writer of the seventeenth
                century.</p>


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   <text>
      <front>
         <pb n="[Cover of Lippincott's Monthly Magazine, February 1890]" facs="pageImages/TP.jpg"/>
         <pb n="147" facs="pageImages/147.jpg"/>
         <titlePage>
            <titlePart>
               <lb/> LIPPINCOTT'S <lb/> MONTHLY MAGAZINE. <lb/> FEBRUARY, 1890. <lb/> THE SIGN OF
               THE FOUR.<lb/>
            </titlePart>
            <docImprint/>
         </titlePage>

      </front>
      <body>
         <div>
            <head>CHAPTER I.</head>
            <head type="sub">THE SCIENCE OF DEDUCTION.</head>
            <p>Sherlock Holmes took his bottle from the corner of the mantel-piece and his
               hypodermic syringe from its <ref target="moroccoCase_" corresp="moroccoCase">neat
                  morocco case</ref>
               <note xml:id="moroccoCase" target="moroccoCase_" resp="editors.xml#GG" type="gloss">In this context, morocco is a kind of leather, imported into Europe since the 16th century, that is very soft. Holmes stores his syringes in a small case covered in morocco leather.

               </note>. With his long, white, nervous fingers he adjusted the delicate needle, and
               rolled back his left shirt-cuff. For some little time his eyes rested thoughtfully
               upon the sinewy forearm and wrist all dotted and scarred with innumerable
               puncture-marks. Finally he thrust the sharp point home, pressed down the tiny piston,
               and sank back into the velvet-lined arm-chair with a long sigh of satisfaction.</p>
            <p>Three times a day for many months I had witnessed this performance, but custom had
               not reconciled my mind to it. On the contrary, from day to day I had become more
               irritable at the sight, and my conscience swelled nightly within me at the thought
               that I had lacked the courage to protest. Again and again I had registered a vow that
               I should deliver my soul upon the subject, but there was that in the cool, nonchalant
               air of my companion which made him the last man with whom one would care to take
               anything approaching to a liberty. His great powers, his masterly manner, and the
               experience which I had had of his many extraordinary qualities, all made me diffident
               and backward in crossing him.</p>
            <p>Yet upon that afternoon, whether it was <ref target="beaune_" corresp="beaune">the
                  Beaune which I had taken with my lunch</ref>
               <note xml:id="beaune" target="beaune_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">
                                <placeName type="tgn" key="7662594">Beaune</placeName> is a
                  region in Burgundy, France, that is known for its wine. Yorick is drinking wine
                  from Beaune with his lunch. To read more about the region, see <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beaune">Wikipedia</ref>.</note>, or the
               additional exasperation produced by the extreme deliberation of his manner, I
               suddenly felt that I could hold out no longer.</p>
            <p>“Which is it to-day?" I asked,—“<ref target="drugs_" corresp="drugs">morphine or
                  cocaine</ref>
               <note xml:id="drugs" target="drugs_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#GG">In the
                  19th century, Britain had fought two wars with India and China over the trade of
                  opium, which equated to large profits for the British economy. Drugs such as opium
                  were considered an everyday commodity, like food or alcohol, and were not met with
                  any restrictions until 1868. Someone could walk into a chemist (pharmacy) during
                  this time and simply purchase opium, cocaine or arsenic without any sort of
                  prescription. To learn more about drug use during the Victorian era, check out<ref target="https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryUK/HistoryofBritain/Opium-in-Victorian-Britain/">Opium in Victorian Britain at Historic UK</ref> and <ref target="https://victorianweb.org/victorian/science/addiction/addiction2.html">Victorian Drug Use on VictorianWeb.org</ref>
                            </note> ?"</p>
            <p>He raised his eyes languidly from the old <ref target="blackletter_" corresp="blackletter">black-letter</ref>
               <note xml:id="blackletter" target="blackletter" resp="editors.xml#TH" type="gloss">
                                <graphic url="notes/Calligraphy.malmesbury.bible.arp.jpg" source="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/46/Calligraphy.malmesbury.bible.arp.jpg" alt="an example of blackletter from the 15th century" desc="An example of blackletter from the 15th century (Wikimedia Commons)"/>Blackletter is a
                  medieval script form characterized by heavy calligraphic letters. This image, <ref target="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/46/Calligraphy.malmesbury.bible.arp.jpg">from Wikimedia Commons</ref>, shows an example of blackletter from a 15th
                  century bible. </note> volume which he had opened. “It is cocaine," he said,—“a
               seven-per-cent. solution. Would you care to try it?"</p>
            <p>“No, indeed," I answered, brusquely. “My constitution has not <pb n="148" facs="pageImages/148.jpg"/>got over the <ref target="afghan_" corresp="afghan">Afghan campaign</ref>
               <note xml:id="afghan" target="afghan_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">The
                  "Afghan campaign" that Watson refers to here is most likely the Second
                  Anglo-Afghan War (1878-1880), which was waged between the British Raj and the
                  Afghan Emirate because of historical geopolitical tensions with Russia. To read
                  more about this important historical allusion, see <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_Anglo-Afghan_War">Wikipedia</ref>.</note> yet. I cannot afford to throw any extra strain upon
               it."</p>
            <p>He smiled at my vehemence. “Perhaps you are right, Watson," he said. “I suppose that
               its influence is physically a bad one. I find it, however, so transcendently
               stimulating and clarifying to the mind that its secondary action is a matter of small
               moment."</p>
            <p>“But consider!" I said, earnestly. “Count the cost! Your brain may, as you say, be
               roused and excited, but it is a pathological and morbid process, which involves
               increased tissue-change and may at last leave a permanent weakness. You know, too,
               what a black reaction comes upon you. Surely the game is hardly worth the candle. Why
               should you, for a mere passing pleasure, risk the loss of those great powers with
               which you have been endowed? Remember that I speak not only as one comrade to
               another, but as a medical man to one for whose constitution he is to some extent
               answerable."</p>
            <p>He did not seem offended. On the contrary, he put his finger-tips together and leaned
               his elbows on the arms of his chair, like one who has a relish for conversation.</p>
            <p>“My mind," he said, “rebels at stagnation. Give me problems, give me work, give me
               the most abstruse cryptogram or the most intricate analysis, and I am in my own
               proper atmosphere. I can dispense then with artificial stimulants. But I abhor the
               dull routine of existence. I crave for mental exaltation. That is why I have chosen
               my own particular profession,—or rather created it, for I am the only one in the
               world."</p>
            <p>“The only unofficial detective?" I said, raising my eyebrows.</p>
            <p>“The only unofficial consulting detective," he answered. “I am the last and highest
               court of appeal in detection. When Gregson or Lestrade or Athelney Jones are out of
               their depths—which, by the way, is their normal state—the matter is laid before me. I
               examine the data, as an expert, and pronounce a specialist’s opinion. I claim no
               credit in such cases. My name figures in no newspaper. The work itself, the pleasure
               of finding a field for my peculiar powers, is my highest reward. But you have
               yourself had some experience of my methods of work in the Jefferson Hope case."</p>
            <p>“Yes, indeed," said I, cordially. “I was never so struck by anything in my life. I
               even embodied it in a small brochure with the somewhat fantastic title of <ref target="Scarlet_" corresp="Scarlet">'A Study in Scarlet.'</ref>
               <note xml:id="Scarlet" target="Scarlet_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A Study
                  in Scarlet' was Arthur Conan Doyle's first detective novel featuring Sherlock
                  Holmes and Dr. Watson, published in 1887. An online text can be read on <ref target="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/244/244-h/244-h.htm">Project
                     Gutenberg</ref>.</note>"</p>
            <p>He shook his head sadly. “I glanced over it," said he. “Honestly, I cannot
               congratulate you upon it. Detection is, or ought to be, an exact science, and should
               be treated in the same cold and unemotional manner. You have attempted to tinge it
               with romanticism, which produces much the same effect as if you worked a love-story
               or an elopement into <ref target="Euclid_" corresp="Euclid">the fifth proposition of
                  Euclid</ref>
               <note xml:id="Euclid" target="Euclid_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">In 300 BC,
                  the Greek mathematician Euclid, wrote five postulates (beliefs) - the fifth
                  stating: "That, if a straight line falling on two straight lines make the interior
                  angles on the same side less than two right angles, if produced indefinitely, meet
                  on that side on which are the angles less than the two right angles." Learn more
                  about Euclid's Fifth Postulate<ref target="https://sites.pitt.edu/~jdnorton/teaching/HPS_0410/chapters/non_Euclid_fifth_postulate/index.html">from the University of Pittsburgh</ref>.</note>."</p>
            <p>“But the romance was there," I remonstrated. “I could not tamper with the facts."</p>
            <p>“Some facts should be suppressed, or at least a just sense of proportion should be
               observed in treating them. The only point in the case which deserved mention was the
               curious analytical reasoning from effects to causes by which I succeeded in
               unraveling it."</p>
            <pb n="149" facs="pageImages/149.jpg"/>
            <p>I was annoyed at this criticism of a work which had been specially designed to please
               him. I confess, too, that I was irritated by the egotism which seemed to demand that
               every line of my pamphlet should be devoted to his own special doings. More than once
               during the years that I had lived with him in Baker Street I had observed that a
               small vanity underlay my companion’s quiet and didactic manner. I made no remark,
               however, but sat nursing my wounded leg. I had a <ref target="jezail_" corresp="jezail">Jezail bullet</ref>
               <note xml:id="jezail" target="jezail_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A jezail or
                  jezzail (Pashto: جزائل) is a simple, homemade gun that was used during the First
                  and Second Anglo-Afghan wars, primarily by Pasthun tribesmen. To read more, see
                     <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jezail)">Wikipedia</ref>.</note>
               through it some time before, and, though it did not prevent me from walking, it ached
               wearily at every change of the weather.</p>
            <p>“My practice has extended recently to <ref target="continent_" corresp="continent">the Continent</ref>
               <note xml:id="continent" target="continent_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">"The
                  Continent" refers to the mainland of Europe, separate from the British Isles.
                  (OED)</note>," said Holmes, after a while, filling up his old <ref target="brierpipe_" corresp="brierpipe">brier-root pipe</ref>
               <note xml:id="brierpipe" target="brierpipe_" resp="editors.xml#GG" type="gloss">
                                <graphic url="notes/briar_pipe.jpg" source="https://www.briar-pipes.com/themes/leo_wines/assets/img/modules/leoslideshow/1400Sh3-01.jpg" alt="A briar pipe" desc="A briar pipe"/>According to TobaccoPipes.com, briar wood
                  is taken from a shrub native to the Mediterranean region. Pipes made from this
                  wood are of high quality and are naturally fire resistant. <ref target="https://www.briar-pipes.com/themes/leo_wines/assets/img/modules/leoslideshow/1400Sh3-01.jpg">Briar Pipe from briar-pipes.com</ref>
               </note>. “I was consulted last week by François Le Villard, who, as you probably
               know, has come rather to the front lately in the French detective service. He has all
               the Celtic power of quick intuition, but he is deficient in the wide range of exact
               knowledge which is essential to the higher developments of his art. The case was
               concerned with a will, and possessed some features of interest. I was able to refer
               him to two parallel cases, the one at <placeName type="tgn" key="7006484">Riga</placeName> in 1857, and the
               other at <placeName type="tgn" key="7014444">St. Louis</placeName> in 1871, which have suggested to him the
               true solution. Here is the letter which I had this morning acknowledging my
               assistance." He tossed over, as he spoke, a crumpled sheet of foreign notepaper. I
               glanced my eyes down it, catching a profusion of notes of admiration, with stray
               “magnifiques," “<ref target="coupdemaitre_" corresp="coupdemaitre">coup-de-maîtres</ref>
               <note xml:id="coupdemaitre" target="coupdemaitre_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A "coup-de-maître" (French) is an action worthy of a master. (OED)</note>," and
                  “<ref target="tourdeforce_" corresp="tourdeforce">tours-de-force</ref>
               <note xml:id="tourdeforce" target="tourdeforce_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A
                  "tour-de-force" (French) is a feat of strength, power, or skill. Here, the word is
                  plural ("tours"). (OED)</note>," all testifying to the ardent admiration of the
               Frenchman.</p>
            <p>“He speaks as a pupil to his master," said I.</p>
            <p>“Oh, he rates my assistance too highly," said Sherlock Holmes, lightly. “He has
               considerable gifts himself. He possesses two out of the three qualities necessary for
               the ideal detective. He has the power of observation and that of deduction. He is
               only wanting in knowledge; and that may come in time. He is now translating my small
               works into French."</p>
            <p>“Your works?"</p>
            <p>“Oh, didn’t you know?" he cried, laughing. “Yes, I have been guilty of several
               monographs. They are all upon technical subjects. Here, for example, is one ‘Upon the
               Distinction between the Ashes of the Various Tobaccoes.’ In it I enumerate a hundred
               and forty forms of cigar-, cigarette-, and pipe-tobacco, with coloured plates
               illustrating the difference in the ash. It is a point which is continually turning up
               in criminal trials, and which is sometimes of supreme importance as a clue. If you
               can say definitely, for example, that some murder has been done by a man who was
               smoking an Indian <ref target="lunkah_" corresp="lunkah">Indian lunkah</ref>
               <note xml:id="lunkah" target="lunkah_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A lunkah is
                  a cigar made from tobacco grown on the Indian islands of the Godavery Delta.
                  (OED)</note>, it obviously narrows your field of search. To the trained eye there
               is as much difference between the black ash of a <ref target="trichinopoly_" corresp="trichinopoly">Trichinopoly</ref>
               <note xml:id="trichinopoly" target="trichinopoly_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A Trichinopoly is a type of thin cigar made from tobacco grown near the town of
                  <placeName type="tgn" key="7001595">Tiruchirappall</placeName>i in Tamil Nadu, India. During the Victorian era, these cigars were
                  one of India's main exports. To read more, see <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trichinopoly_cigar)">Wikipedia</ref>.</note> and the white fluff of bird’s-eye as there is between a
               cabbage and a potato."</p>
            <p>“You have an extraordinary genius for minutiæ," I remarked.</p>
            <p>“I appreciate their importance. Here is my monograph upon the tracing of footsteps,
               with some remarks upon the uses of plaster of <placeName type="tgn" key="7008038">Paris</placeName> as a preserver of impresses.
               Here, too, is a curious little work upon the influence of a trade upon the form of
               the hand, with lithotypes of the hands of slaters, sailors, corkcutters, compositors,
               weavers, and <pb n="150" facs="pageImages/150.jpg"/>diamond-polishers. That is a
               matter of great practical interest to the scientific detective,—especially in cases
               of unclaimed bodies, or in discovering the antecedents of criminals. But I weary you
               with my hobby."</p>
            <p>“Not at all," I answered, earnestly. “It is of the greatest interest to me,
               especially since I have had the opportunity of observing your practical application
               of it. But you spoke just now of observation and deduction. Surely the one to some
               extent implies the other."</p>
            <p>“Why, hardly," he answered, leaning back luxuriously in his arm-chair, and sending up
               thick blue wreaths from his pipe. “For example, observation shows me that you have
               been to the Wigmore Street Post-Office this morning, but deduction lets me know that
               when there you dispatched a <ref target="telegram_" corresp="telegram">telegram</ref>
               <note xml:id="telegram" target="telegram_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">
                                <graphic url="notes/telegraph.jpg" source="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Electrical_telegraph" alt="The English Cook and Wheatstone needle telegraph (via Wikimedia                      Commons, photograph by Geni)" desc="The English Cook and Wheatstone needle telegraph (via Wikimedia                      Commons"/>A telegram is a typed message delivered
                  from point to point via electrical cables. The method of communication became the
                  most popular way to send urgent messages in the 1840s. One prototype of the
                  telegraph machine was developed by the American Samuel Morse, using Morse Code to
                  transmit message content, but the one likely referred to here is based on the
                  English Cook and Wheatstone needle telegraph, pictured below (via Wikimedia
                  Commons, photograph by Geni). Read more about text telegaphy on<ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Electrical_telegraph">Wikipedia</ref>.
                  image By Geni - Photo by User:geni, CC BY-SA 4.0</note> ."</p>
            <p>“Right!" said I. “Right on both points! But I confess that I don’t see how you
               arrived at it. It was a sudden impulse upon my part, and I have mentioned it to no
               one."</p>
            <p>“It is simplicity itself," he remarked, chuckling at my surprise,—“so absurdly simple
               that an explanation is superfluous; and yet it may serve to define the limits of
               observation and of deduction. Observation tells me that you have a little reddish
               mould adhering to your instep. Just opposite the Wigmore Street Office they have
               taken up the pavement and thrown up some earth which lies in such a way that it is
               difficult to avoid treading in it in entering. The earth is of this peculiar reddish
               tint which is found, as far as I know, nowhere else in the neighbourhood. So much is
               observation. The rest is deduction."</p>
            <p>“How, then, did you deduce the telegram?"</p>
            <p>“Why, of course I knew that you had not written a letter, since I sat opposite to you
               all morning. I see also in your open desk there that you have a sheet of stamps and a
               thick bundle of post-cards. What could you go into the post-office for, then, but to
               send a wire? Eliminate all other factors, and the one which remains must be the
               truth."</p>
            <p>“In this case it certainly is so," I replied, after a little thought. “The thing,
               however, is, as you say, of the simplest. Would you think me impertinent if I were to
               put your theories to a more severe test?"</p>
            <p>“On the contrary," he answered, “it would prevent me from taking a second dose of
               cocaine. I should be delighted to look into any problem which you might submit to
               me."</p>
            <p>“I have heard you say that it is difficult for a man to have any object in daily use
               without leaving the impress of his individuality upon it in such a way that a trained
               observer might read it. Now, I have here a watch which has recently come into my
               possession. Would you have the kindness to let me have an opinion upon the character
               or habits of the late owner?"</p>
            <p>I handed him over the watch with some slight feeling of amusement in my heart, for
               the test was, as I thought, an impossible one, and I intended it as a lesson against
               the somewhat dogmatic tone which he occasionally assumed. He balanced the watch in
               his hand, gazed hard at the dial, opened the back, and examined the works, first with
               his naked eyes and then with a powerful convex lens. I could hardly keep <pb n="151" facs="pageImages/151.jpg"/>from smiling at his crestfallen face when he finally
               snapped the case to and handed it back.</p>
            <p>“There are hardly any data," he remarked. “The watch has been recently cleaned, which
               robs me of my most suggestive facts."</p>
            <p>“You are right," I answered. “It was cleaned before being sent to me." In my heart I
               accused my companion of putting forward a most lame and impotent excuse to cover his
               failure. What data could he expect from an uncleaned watch?</p>
            <p>“Though unsatisfactory, my research has not been entirely barren," he observed,
               staring up at the ceiling with dreamy, lack-lustre eyes. “Subject to your correction,
               I should judge that the watch belonged to your elder brother, who inherited it from
               your father."</p>
            <p>“That you gather, no doubt, from the H. W. upon the back?"</p>
            <p>“Quite so. The W. suggests your own name. The date of the watch is nearly fifty years
               back, and the initials are as old as the watch: so it was made for the last
               generation. Jewelry usually descends to the eldest son, and he is most likely to have
               the same name as the father. Your father has, if I remember right, been dead many
               years. It has, therefore, been in the hands of your eldest brother."</p>
            <p>“Right, so far," said I. “Anything else?"</p>
            <p>“He was a man of untidy habits,—very untidy and careless. He was left with good
               prospects, but he threw away his chances, lived for some time in poverty with
               occasional short intervals of prosperity, and finally, taking to drink, he died. That
               is all I can gather."</p>
            <p>I sprang from my chair and limped impatiently about the room with considerable
               bitterness in my heart.</p>
            <p>“This is unworthy of you, Holmes," I said. “I could not have believed that you would
               have descended to this. You have made inquires into the history of my unhappy
               brother, and you now pretend to deduce this knowledge in some fanciful way. You
               cannot expect me to believe that you have read all this from his old watch! It is
               unkind, and, to speak plainly, has a touch of charlatanism in it."</p>
            <p>“My dear doctor," said he, kindly, “pray accept my apologies. Viewing the matter as
               an abstract problem, I had forgotten how personal and painful a thing it might be to
               you. I assure you, however, that I never even knew that you had a brother until you
               handed me the watch."</p>
            <p>“Then how in the name of all that is wonderful did you get these facts? They are
               absolutely correct in every particular."</p>
            <p>“Ah, that is good luck. I could only say what was the balance of probability. I did
               not at all expect to be so accurate."</p>
            <p>“But it was not mere guess-work?"</p>
            <p>“No, no: I never guess. It is a shocking habit,—destructive to the logical faculty.
               What seems strange to you is only so because you do not follow my train of thought or
               observe the small facts upon which large inferences may depend. For example, I began
               by stating that your brother was careless. When you observe the lower part of that
               watch-case you notice that it is not only dinted in two places, but it is cut and
               marked all over from the habit of keeping other hard objects, such as coins or keys,
               in the same pocket. Surely it is no great <pb n="152" facs="pageImages/152.jpg"/>feat
               to assume that a man who treats a fifty-guinea watch so cavalierly must be a careless
               man. Neither is it a very far-fetched inference that a man who inherits one article
               of such value is pretty well provided for in other respects."</p>
            <p>I nodded, to show that I followed his reasoning.</p>
            <p>“It is very customary for pawnbrokers in <placeName type="tgn" key="7002445">England</placeName>, when they
               take a watch, to scratch the number of the ticket with a pin-point upon the inside of
               the case. It is more handy than a label, as there is no risk of the number being lost
               or transposed. There are no less than four such numbers visible to my lens on the
               inside of this case. Inference,—that your brother was often at low water. Secondary
               inference,—that he had occasional bursts of prosperity, or he could not have redeemed
               the pledge. Finally, I ask you to look at the inner plate, which contains the
               key-hole. Look at the thousands of scratches all round the hole,—marks where the key
               has slipped. What sober man’s key could have scored those grooves? But you will never
               see a drunkard’s watch without them. He winds it at night, and he leaves these traces
               of his unsteady hand. Where is the mystery in all this?"</p>
            <p>“It is as clear as daylight," I answered. “I regret the injustice which I did you. I
               should have had more faith in your marvellous faculty. May I ask whether you have any
               professional inquiry on foot at present?"</p>
            <p>“None. Hence the cocaine. I cannot live without brain-work. What else is there to
               live for? Stand at the window here. Was ever such a dreary, dismal, unprofitable
               world? See how the <ref target="yellowfog_" corresp="yellowfog">See how the yellow
                  fog swirls down the street and drifts across the dun-coloured houses.</ref>
               <note xml:id="yellowfog" target="yellowfog_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#GG">Due to the increase in manufacturing and urbanization associated with the
                  Industrial Revolution, air pollution in 19th century London became an everyday
                  occurrence. The city witnessed an increase of emissions from factory fires and
                  furnaces, resulting in thick fogs that could last a week, even leading to death.
                  Not much was done in response to this public health emergency. These references to
                  intense fog are depicted in the works of Arthur Conan Doyle and Charles Dickens.
                  To read more about this historical smog, check out <ref target="https://www.britannica.com/event/Great-Smog-of-London">Great Smog of
                     London on Britannica</ref>.</note> swirls down the street and drifts across the
               dun-coloured houses. What could be more hopelessly prosaic and material? What is the
               use of having powers, doctor, when one has no field upon which to exert them? Crime
               is commonplace, existence is commonplace, and no qualities save those which are
               commonplace have any function upon earth."</p>
            <p>I had opened my mouth to reply to this tirade, when with a crisp knock our landlady
               entered, bearing a card upon the <ref target="salver_" corresp="salver">salver</ref>
               <note xml:id="salver" target="salver_" resp="editors.xml#GG" type="gloss">
                                <graphic url="notes/salver.jpg" source="https://collectionapi.metmuseum.org/api/collection/v1/iiif/185873/486018/main-image" alt="Photograph of a salver made of brass, from the Metropolitan Museum of Art" desc="Brass salver (Metropolitan Museum of Art)"/>A salver is a tray. This image, <ref target="https://collectionapi.metmuseum.org/api/collection/v1/iiif/185873/486018/main-image">from The Met Museum</ref>, shows an example of a salver made from brass.
               </note>.</p>
            <p>“A young lady for you, sir," she said, addressing my companion.</p>
            <p>“Miss Mary ," he read. “Hum! I have no recollection of the name. Ask the young lady
               to step up, Mrs. Hudson. Don’t go, doctor. I should prefer that you remain."</p>
         </div>
         <div>
            <head>CHAPTER II.</head>
            <head type="sub">THE STATEMENT OF THE CASE.</head>
            <p>Miss entered the room with a firm step and an outward composure of manner. She was a
               blonde young lady, small, dainty, <ref target="well-gloved_" corresp="well-gloved">well gloved</ref>
               <note xml:id="well-gloved" target="well-gloved_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">"Well-gloved" means wearing either thick, warm, or elegant gloves. (OED) </note>,
               and dressed in <ref target="fashion_" corresp="fashion">dressed in the most perfect
                  taste</ref>
               <note xml:id="fashion" target="fashion_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#GG">
                                <graphic url="notes/Victorian-Woman.jpg" source="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Victorian_Woman.jpeg" alt="An image of Victorian women's fashion via Wikimedia Commons" desc="An image of Victorian women's fashion (Wikimedia Commons)"/>Fashion throughout the Victorian Era
                  evolved every decade. The Industrial Revolution offered immense changes with the
                  manufacturing of ready-made clothing with an influx of sewing machines, leading to
                  more choices for the consumer. To read more about Victorian fashion, check out
                     <ref target="https://www.epochs-of-fashion.com/the-epochs/victorian-era/">Epochs of Fashion</ref>.Image by Bazar of Fashions, <ref target="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Victorian_Woman.jpeg">via
                     Wikimedia Commons</ref>
                            </note>. There was, however, a plainness and simplicity
               about <ref target="costume_" corresp="costume">her costume</ref>
                            <note xml:id="costume" target="costume_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">This
                  tale takes place in 1888. In the late 19th century, women's day dress featured a
                  slim, corsetted style when viewed from the front, often with a high neckline and
                  long sleeves, and a small bustle in the back and visible from the side. Miss
                  Morstan works for her living as a governess, so her style of dress would be
                  plainer, as Watson describes. However, it would likely have the same sillouette.
                  To read more about Victorian fashion, visit the <ref target="http://www.vam.ac.uk/content/articles/v/victorian-dress-at-v-and-a/">Victoria and Albert Museum</ref>.</note> which bore with it a suggestion of
               limited means. The dress was a sombre greyish beige, untrimmed and unbraided, and she
               wore a small turban of the same dull hue, relieved only by a suspicion of white
               feather in the side. Her face had neither regularity of feature nor beauty of
               complexion, but <pb n="152" facs="pageImages/152.jpg"/>her expression was <ref target="amiable_" corresp="amiable">her expression was sweet and amiable</ref>
               <note xml:id="amiable" target="amiable_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#GG">During the Victorian era, men and women were expected to live their days in
                  ‘separate spheres’, only coming together at mealtimes. For gender expectations,
                  women were perceived to have less physical strength than men, but they had
                  superior morals that were anchored at home. This “sweetness" was to counteract the
                  harshness of society with which men interacted on a daily basis, ultimately
                  guiding the next generation. To read more about gender roles in the 19th century,
                  check out <ref target="https://www.bl.uk/romantics-and-victorians/articles/gender-roles-in-the-19th-century">the British Library's description of gender roles during this
                  era</ref>.</note>, and her large blue eyes were singularly spiritual and
               sympathetic. In an experience of women which extends over many nations and three
               separate continents, I have never looked upon a face which gave a clearer promise of
               a refined and sensitive nature. I could not but observe that as she took the seat
               which Sherlock Holmes placed for her, her lip trembled, her hand quivered, and she
               showed every sign of intense inward agitation.</p>
            <p>“I have come to you, Mr. Holmes," she said, “because you once enabled my employer,
               Mrs. Cecil Forrester, to unravel a little domestic complication. She was much
               impressed by your kindness and skill."</p>
            <p>“Mrs. Cecil Forrester," he repeated thoughtfully. “I believe that I was of some
               slight service to her. The case, however, as I remember it, was a very simple
               one."</p>
            <p>“She did not think so. But at least you cannot say the same of mine. I can hardly
               imagine anything more strange, more utterly inexplicable, than the situation in which
               I find myself."</p>
            <p>Holmes rubbed his hands, and his eyes glistened. He leaned forward in his chair with
               an expression of extraordinary concentration upon his clear-cut, hawklike features.
               “State your case," said he, in brisk, business tones.</p>
            <p>I felt that my position was an embarrassing one. “You will, I am sure, excuse me," I
               said, rising from my chair.</p>
            <p>To my surprise, the young lady held up her gloved hand to detain me. “If your
               friend," she said, “would be good enough to stop, he might be of inestimable service
               to me."</p>
            <p>I relapsed into my chair.</p>
            <p>“Briefly," she continued, “the facts are these. My father was an officer in an Indian
               regiment who sent me home when I was quite a child. My mother was dead, and I had no
               relative in <placeName type="tgn" key="7002445"> England</placeName>. I was placed, however, in a comfortable <ref target="boardingschool_" corresp="beboardingschool">boarding establishment</ref>
               <note xml:id="boardingschool" target="boardingschool_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#GG">In the 19th century, upper class women were expected to
                  marry and give their husband children, thus requiring no formal education. If a
                  young woman was unable to find a suitor, she would be expected to look after
                  others' children or elderly parents. This shifted in 1848 when Queen's College
                  recognized a governess as a qualification, opening up education to women in the
                  following decades. To read more, check out <ref target="https://www.bl.uk/victorian-britain/articles/education-in-victorian-britain">Education in Victorian Britain</ref>at the British Library.</note> at
                  <placeName type="tgn" key="7009546">Edinburgh</placeName>, and there I remained until I was seventeen years
               of age. In the year 1878 my father, who was senior captain of his regiment, obtained
               twelve months’ leave and came home. He telegraphed to me from <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName> that he had arrived all safe, and directed me to
               come down at once, giving the Langham Hotel as his address. His message, as I
               remember, was full of kindness and love. On reaching <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName> I drove to the <placeName type="tgn" key="4006117">Langham</placeName>, and was informed that
               Captain was staying there, but that he had gone out the night before and had not yet
               returned. I waited all day without news of him. That night, on the advice of the
               manager of the hotel, I communicated with the police, and next morning we advertised
               in all the papers. Our inquiries led to no result; and from that day to this no word
               has ever been heard of my unfortunate father. He came home with his heart full of
               hope, to find some peace, some comfort, and instead—" She put her hand to her throat,
               and a choking sob cut short the sentence.</p>
            <p>“The date?" asked Holmes, opening his note-book.</p>
            <p>“He disappeared upon the 3rd of December, 1878,—<ref target="timeline1878_" corresp="timeline1878">“He disappeared upon the 3rd of December, 1878,—nearly ten
                  years ago."</ref>
               <note xml:id="timeline1878" target="timeline1878_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">Given the dates noted here, the action of "The Sign of the
                  Four" takes place 1888, possibly November, given the discussion of the yellow fog
                  above. The fog in London was typically at its worst in November.</note>."</p>
            <p>“His luggage?"</p>
            <p>“Remained at the hotel. There was nothing in it to suggest a clue,<pb n="154" facs="pageImages/154.jpg"/>—some clothes, some books, and a considerable number of
               curiosities from the <placeName type="tgn" key="1009838">
                                <ref target="andaman_" corresp="andaman">Andaman
                     Islands</ref>
                            </placeName>
                  <note xml:id="andaman" target="andaman_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#GG">The Andaman Islands are made up of 300 islands stretching across the
                     southeastern part of the Bay of Bengal. The navy of the English East India
                     Company first arrived on the islands in 1789, ultimately becoming union
                     territory of India in 1956. The islands are known for their indigenous
                     communities who evade contact from outsiders (<ref target="https://www.britannica.com/place/Andaman-and-Nicobar-Islands)">Britannica</ref>). In 1858, the British government transformed one island
                     to become the Ross Island Penal Colony, and jailed a number of prisoners from
                     the Indian Rebellion of 1857 (often referred here as the "Mutiny"). Conditions
                     were brutal, and many Indian political prisoners died from torture by the
                     British (<ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ross_Island_Penal_Colony">Wikipedia</ref>). To learn more about these penal colonies, see <ref target="https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/international-review-of-social-history/article/andaman-islands-penal-colony-race-class-criminality-and-the-british-empire/00628D1C1401929D53A01F9E523E72E2"> Clare Anderson's article, "The Andaman Islands Penal Colony: Race, Class,
                        Criminality, and the British Empire."</ref>
                            </note>
               He had been one of the officers in charge of the convict-guard
               there."</p>
            <p>“Had he any friends in town?"</p>
            <p>“Only one that we know of,—Major Sholto, of his own regiment, the 34th Bombay
               Infantry. The major had retired some little time before, and lived at <placeName type="tgn" key="7029209">Upper Norwood</placeName>. We communicated with him, of
               course, but he did not even know that his brother officer was in <placeName type="tgn" key="7002445"> England</placeName>."</p>
            <p>“A singular case," remarked Holmes.</p>
            <p>“I have not yet described to you the most singular part. About six years ago—to be
               exact, upon the 4th of May, 1882—an advertisement appeared in the Times asking for
               the address of Miss Mary and stating that it would be to her advantage to come
               forward. There was no name or address appended. <ref target="governess_" corresp="governess">I had at that time just entered the family of Mrs. Cecil
                  Forrester in the capacity of governess.</ref>
               <note xml:id="governess" target="governess_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#GG">While upper class families historically hired governesses to care for their
                  children, wealthy families of the middle class started to do so in the 19th
                  century. A governess typically lived with the family and received a small salary
                  in addition to room and board. To learn more, see<ref target="https://www.bl.uk/romantics-and-victorians/articles/the-figure-of-the-governess">the British Library's overview of the governess</ref>, an important figure in
                  Victorian literature.</note>. By her advice I published my address in the
               advertisement column. The same day there arrived through the post a small card-board
               box addressed to me, which I found to contain a very large and lustrous pearl. No
               word of writing was enclosed. Since then every year upon the same date there has
               always appeared a similar box, containing a similar pearl, without any clue as to the
               sender. They have been pronounced by an expert to be of a rare variety and of
               considerable value. You can see for yourselves that they are very handsome." She
               opened a flat box as she spoke, and showed me six of the finest pearls that I had
               ever seen.</p>
            <p>“Your statement is most interesting," said Sherlock Holmes. “Has anything else
               occurred to you?"</p>
            <p>“Yes, and no later than to-day. That is why I have come to you. This morning I
               received this letter, which you will perhaps read for yourself."</p>
            <p>“Thank you," said Holmes. “The envelope too, please. Postmark, <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName>, S.W. Date, July 7. Hum! Man’s thumb-mark on
               corner,—probably postman. Best quality paper. Envelopes at sixpence a packet.
               Particular man in his stationery. No address. ‘Be at the third pillar from the left
               outside the Lyceum Theatre to-night at seven o’clock. If you are distrustful, bring
               two friends. You are a wronged woman, and shall have justice. Do not bring police. If
               you do, all will be in vain. Your unknown friend.’ Well, really, this is a very
               pretty little mystery. What do you intend to do, Miss ?"</p>
            <p>“That is exactly what I want to ask you."</p>
            <p>“Then we shall most certainly go. You and I and—yes, why, Dr. Watson is the very man.
               Your correspondent says two friends. He and I have worked together before."</p>
            <p>“But would he come?" she asked, with something appealing in her voice and
               expression.</p>
            <p>“I should be proud and happy," said I, fervently, “if I can be of any service."</p>
            <p>“You are both very kind," she answered. “I have led a retired life, and have no
               friends whom I could appeal to. If I am here at six it will do, I suppose?"</p>
            <p>“You must not be later," said Holmes. “There is one other point,<pb n="155" facs="pageImages/155.jpg"/> however. Is this handwriting the same as that upon the
               pearl-box addresses?"</p>
            <p>“I have them here," she answered, producing half a dozen pieces of paper.</p>
            <p>“You are certainly a model client. You have the correct intuition. Let us see, now."
               He spread out the papers upon the table, and gave little darting glances from one to
               the other. “They are disguised hands, except the letter," he said, presently, “but
               there can be no question as to the authorship. See how the irrepressible Greek e will
               break out, and see the twirl of the final s. They are undoubtedly by the same person.
               I should not like to suggest false hopes, Miss , but is there any resemblance between
               this hand and that of your father?"</p>
            <p>“Nothing could be more unlike."</p>
            <p>“I expected to hear you say so. We shall look out for you, then, at six. Pray allow
               me to keep the papers. I may look into the matter before then. It is only half-past
               three. Au revoir, then."</p>
            <p>“Au revoir," said our visitor, and, with a bright, kindly glance from one to the
               other of us, she replaced her pearl-box in her bosom and hurried away. Standing at
               the window, I watched her walking briskly down the street, until the grey turban and
               white feather were but a speck in the sombre crowd.</p>
            <p>“What a very attractive woman!" I exclaimed, turning to my companion.</p>
            <p>He had lit his pipe again, and was leaning back with drooping eyelids. “Is she?" he
               said, languidly. “I did not observe."</p>
            <p>“You really are an automaton,—a calculating-machine!" I cried. “There is something
               positively inhuman in you at times."</p>
            <p>He smiled gently. “It is of the first importance," he said, “not to allow your
               judgment to be biased by personal qualities. A client is to me a mere unit,—a factor
               in a problem. The emotional qualities are antagonistic to clear reasoning. I assure
               you that the most winning woman I ever knew was hanged for poisoning three little
               children for their insurance-money, and the most repellant man of my acquaintance is
               a philanthropist who has spent nearly a quarter of a million upon the <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName> poor."</p>
            <p>“In this case, however—"</p>
            <p>“I never make exceptions. An exception disproves the rule. Have you ever had occasion
               to study <ref target="graphology_" corresp="graphology">to study character in
                  handwriting</ref>
               <note xml:id="graphology" target="graphology_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">Graphology refers to the analysis of one's handwriting to determine their
                  personality traits. No scientific evidence has been found to support graphology's
                  claims, but it came to prominence in the 19th century from the French priest and
                  archeologist, Jean-Hippolye Michon, who published books on the subject and founded
                  the Société Graphologique in 1871. It is interesting to note that graphology is
                  used in France, and has been accepted in some court cases. To read more, see <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Graphology#History">Wikipedia</ref>.</note>? What do you make of this fellow’s scribble?"</p>
            <p>“It is legible and regular," I answered. “A man of business habits and some force of
               character."</p>
            <p>Holmes shook his head. “Look at his long letters," he said. “They hardly rise above
               the common herd. That d might be an a, and that l an e. Men of character always
               differentiate their long letters, however illegibly they may write. There is
               vacillation in his k’s and self-esteem in his capitals. I am going out now. I have
               some few references to make. Let me recommend this book,—one of the most remarkable
               ever penned. It is <ref target="winwood_" corresp="winwood">Winwood Reade’s
                  ‘Martyrdom of Man.’</ref>
               <note xml:id="winwood" target="winwood_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">The
                  Martyrdom of Man "…is a secular, "universal" history of the Western world"
                  published by William Winwood Reade in 1872. Source:<ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Winwood_Reade)">Wikipedia</ref> A
                  PDF of this book can be found <ref target="https://www.exclassics.com/martyrdom/martman.pdf">here</ref>.</note> I
               shall be back in an hour."</p>
            <p>I sat in the window with the volume in my hand, but my thoughts<pb n="156" facs="pageImages/156.jpg"/> were far from the daring speculations of the writer.
               My mind ran upon our late visitor,—her smiles, the deep rich tones of her voice, the
               strange mystery which overhung her life. If she were seventeen at the time of her
               father’s disappearance she must be seven-and-twenty now,—a sweet age, when youth has
               lost its self-consciousness and become a little sobered by experience. So I sat and
               mused, until such dangerous thoughts came into my head that I hurried away to my desk
               and plunged furiously into the latest treatise upon pathology. What was I, an army
               surgeon with a weak leg and a weaker banking-account, that I should dare to think of
               such things? She was a unit, a factor,—nothing more. If my future were black, it was
               better surely to face it like a man than to attempt to brighten it by mere
               will-o’-the-wisps of the imagination.</p>
         </div>
         <div>
            <head>CHAPTER III</head>
            <head type="sub">IN QUEST OF A SOLUTION.</head>
            <p>It was half-past five before Holmes returned. He was bright, eager, and in excellent
               spirits,—a mood which in his case alternated with fits of the blackest
               depression.</p>
            <p>“There is no great mystery in this matter," he said, taking the cup of tea which I
               had poured out for him. “The facts appear to admit of only one explanation."</p>
            <p>“What! you have solved it already?"</p>
            <p>“Well, that would be too much to say. I have discovered a suggestive fact, that is
               all. It is, however, very suggestive. The details are still to be added. I have just
               found, on consulting the back files of <ref target="thetimes_" corresp="thetimes">the
                  Times</ref>
               <note xml:id="thetimes" target="thetimes_" resp="editors.xml#TH" type="gloss">The Times is a daily newspaper published in
                  London, considered to be one of the best in the world. It was started by John
                  Walter on January 1, 1785. To read more see <ref target="https://www.britannica.com/topic/The-Times">Britannica</ref>.</note>,
               that Major Sholto, of <placeName type="tgn" key="7029209"> Upper Norwood</placeName>, late of the <ref target="bombay34_" corresp="bombay34">34th Bombay Infantry</ref>
               <note xml:id="bombay34" target="bombay34_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">During the 1870s, the military presence in India was composed of "presidency
                  armies" to protect the interests of the British East India Company. These included
                  the Bengal Army, the Madras Army, and the Bombay Army. This "34th Bombay Infantry"
                  could be a reference to a fictional regiment. Control was tightened after the
                  Indian Rebellion of 1857, a result of the diverse population of India feeling
                  invaded by British reforms, taxes, and rule. To learn more about the British
                  Indian Army, see <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/British_Indian_Army">Wikipedia</ref>.</note> , died upon the 28th of April, 1882."</p>
            <p>“I may be very obtuse, Holmes, but I fail to see what this suggests."</p>
            <p>“No? You surprise me. Look at it in this way, then. Captain disappears. The only
               person in <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName> whom he could have
               visited is Major Sholto. Major Sholto denies having heard that he was in <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName>. Four years later Sholto dies. Within
               a week of his death Captain ’s daughter receives a valuable present, which is
               repeated from year to year, and now culminates in a letter which describes her as a
               wronged woman. What wrong can it refer to except this deprivation of her father? And
               why should the presents begin immediately after Sholto’s death, unless it is that
               Sholto’s heir knows something of the mystery and desires to make compensation? Have
               you any alternative theory which will meet the facts?"</p>
            <p>“But what a strange compensation! And how strangely made! Why, too, should he write a
               letter now, rather than six years ago? Again, the letter speaks of giving her
               justice. What justice can she have? It is too much to suppose that her father is
               still alive. There is no other injustice in her case that you know of."</p>
            <p>“There are difficulties; there are certainly difficulties," said Sherlock Holmes,
               pensively. “But our expedition of to-night will solve<pb n="157" facs="pageImages/157.jpg"/> them all. Ah, here is <ref target="fourwheeler_" corresp="fourwheeler">four-wheeler</ref>
               <note xml:id="fourwheeler" target="fourwheeler_" resp="editors.xml#TH" type="gloss">
                                <graphic url="notes/four-wheeler-cab.jpg" source="https://www.flickr.com/photos/hugo90/3291390539/in/photostream/" alt="A brougham carriage, typical of the 19th century" desc="A brougham carriage (Flickr)"/>Cabs in Victorian London were
                  typically two-wheeled carriages called hansoms, but they held only one or at most
                  two people comfortably. The larger horse-drawn carriages could hold more. The
                  photograph here, taken by <ref target="https://www.flickr.com/photos/hugo90/3291390539/in/photostream/">John
                     Lloyd</ref>, shows a brougham carriage, typical of four-wheeled 19th century
                  carriage styles. </note>, and Miss is inside. Are you all ready? Then we had
               better go down, for it is a little past the hour."</p>
            <p>I picked up my hat and my heaviest stick, but I observed that Holmes took his
               revolver from his drawer and slipped it into his pocket. It was clear that he thought
               that our night’s work might be a serious one.</p>
            <p>Miss was muffled in a dark cloak, and her sensitive face was composed, but pale. She
               must have been more than woman if she did not feel some uneasiness at the strange
               enterprise upon which we were embarking, yet her self-control was perfect, and she
               readily answered the few additional questions which Sherlock Holmes put to her.</p>
            <p>“Major Sholto was a very particular friend of papa’s," she said. “His letters were
               full of allusions to the major. He and papa were in command of the troops at the
               Andaman Islands, so they were thrown a great deal together. By the way, a curious
               paper was found in papa’s desk which no one could understand. I don’t suppose that it
               is of the slightest importance, but I thought you might care to see it, so I brought
               it with me. It is here."</p>
            <p>Holmes unfolded the paper carefully and smoothed it out upon his knee. He then very
               methodically examined it all over with his double lens.</p>
            <p>“It is paper of native Indian manufacture," he remarked. “It has at some time been
               pinned to a board. The diagram upon it appears to be a plan of part of a large
               building with numerous halls, corridors, and passages. At one point is a small cross
               done in red ink, and above it is ‘3.37 from left,’ in faded pencil-writing. In the
               left-hand corner is a curious hieroglyphic like four crosses in a line with their
               arms touching. Beside it is written, in very rough and coarse characters, ‘The sign
               of the four,—Jonathan Small, Mahomet Singh, Abdullah Khan, Dost Akbar.’ No, I confess
               that I do not see how this bears upon the matter. Yet it is evidently a document of
               importance. It has been kept carefully in a <ref target="pocketbook_" corresp="pocketbook">pocket-book</ref>
               <note xml:id="pocketbook" target="pocketbook_" resp="editors.xml#GG" type="gloss">
                                <graphic url="notes/austen-pocketbook.jpg" source="https://janeaustensworld.com/tag/regency-pocket-books/" alt="Phogotraph of a pocket book, 1803 (Jane Auten's World)" desc="Pocket book, 1803 (Jane Auten's World)"/>In the 19th century, a pocket book
                  was a small sized book similar to an agenda or planner that we would refer to
                  today. A pocket book was about the size of a small 3" by 5", index card, covered
                  in leather, with a flap closure. Inside you may find a calendar, notes, short
                  stories, poetry, among other things. To read more about pocket books during this
                  era, check out<ref target="https://janeaustensworld.com/tag/regency-pocket-books/">Jane Austen's World</ref>. Here is an example of a pocket book from 1803,
                  taken from <ref target="https://janeaustensworld.files.wordpress.com/2020/11/pocketbook.jpg"/>
                            </note> ; for the one side is as clean as the other."</p>
            <p>“It was in his pocket-book that we found it."</p>
            <p>“Preserve it carefully, then, Miss , for it may prove to be of use to us. I begin to
               suspect that this matter may turn out to be much deeper and more subtle than I at
               first supposed. I must reconsider my ideas." He leaned back in the cab, and I could
               see by his drawn brow and his vacant eye that he was thinking intently. Miss and I
               chatted in an undertone about our present expedition and its possible outcome, but
               our companion maintained his impenetrable reserve until the end of our journey.</p>
            <p/>
            <p>It was a September evening, and not yet seven o’clock, but the day had been a dreary
               one, and a dense drizzly fog lay low upon <ref target="greatcity_" corresp="greatcity">the great city</ref>
               <note xml:id="greatcity" target="greatcity_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#GG">Being the capital of the largest empire on the planet AND the world's most
                  populated in the 19th century meant one thing: pollution. In 1890s London, there
                  were approximately 300,000 horses throughout the streets, leaving behind
                  excruciating amounts of excrement which you would have to navigate around.
                  According to <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Historical_urban_community_sizes">Wikipedia</ref>, in 1875, London's population was 4.24 million, compared to
                  Beijing's 1.31 million, Paris's 2.25 million, and NYC's 1.9 million. Check out
                  this author interview <ref target="https://www.npr.org/2015/03/12/392332431/dirty-old-london-a-history-of-the-victorians-infamous-filthe">Dirty Old London': A History Of The Victorians' Infamous Filth</ref> on
                  NPR.</note> . Mud-coloured clouds drooped sadly over the muddy streets. Down the
               Strand the lamps were but misty splotches of diffused light which threw a feeble
               circular glimmer upon the slimy pavement. The yellow glare from the shop-windows
               streamed out into the steamy,<pb n="158" facs="pageImages/158.jpg"/> vaporous air,
               and threw a murky, shifting radiance across the crowded thoroughfare. There was, to
               my mind, something eerie and ghost-like in the endless procession of faces which
               flitted across these narrow bars of light,—sad faces and glad, haggard and merry.
               Like all human kind, they flitted from the gloom into the light, and so back into the
               gloom once more. I am not subject to impressions, but the dull, heavy evening, with
               the strange business upon which we were engaged, combined to make me nervous and
               depressed. I could see from Miss ’s manner that she was suffering from the same
               feeling. Holmes alone could rise superior to petty influences. He held his open
               note-book upon his knee, and from time to time he jotted down figures and memoranda
               in the light of his pocket-lantern.</p>
            <p>At the Lyceum Theatre the crowds were already thick at the side-entrances. In front a
               continuous stream of hansoms and four-wheelers were rattling up, discharging their
               cargoes of shirt-fronted men and beshawled, bediamonded women. We had hardly reached
               the third pillar, which was our rendezvous, before a small, dark, brisk man in the
               dress of a coachman accosted us.</p>
            <p>“Are you the parties who come with Miss ?" he asked.</p>
            <p>“I am Miss , and these two gentlemen are my friends," said she.</p>
            <p>He bent a pair of wonderfully penetrating and questioning eyes upon us. “You will
               excuse me, miss," he said with a certain dogged manner, “but I was to ask you to give
               me your word that neither of your companions is a police-officer."</p>
            <p>“I give you my word on that," she answered.</p>
            <p>He gave a shrill whistle, on which a <ref target="streetarab_" corresp="streetarab">street Arab</ref>
               <note xml:id="streetarab" target="streetarab_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">Now
                  an offensive term, a "street Arab" is a destitute and unhomed young person, and
                  according to the OED, its usage dates to the mid-nineteenth century. It is a term
                  of British origin. The notion of such children being Arab may refer to the
                  presumption of a nomadic lifestyle, or perhaps to their darker skin, a product of
                  the filth of the London streets.</note> led across a four-wheeler and opened the
               door. The man who had addressed us mounted to the box, while we took our places
               inside. We had hardly done so before the driver whipped up his horse, and we plunged
               away at a furious pace through the foggy streets.</p>
            <p>The situation was a curious one. We were driving to an unknown place, on an unknown
               errand. Yet our invitation was either a complete hoax,—which was an inconceivable
               hypothesis,—or else we had good reason to think that important issues might hang upon
               our journey. Miss ’s demeanor was as resolute and collected as ever. I endeavored to
               cheer and amuse her by reminiscences of my adventures in <placeName type="tgn" key="7016612">Afghanistan</placeName>; but, to tell the truth, I was myself so
               excited at our situation and so curious as to our destination that my stories were
               slightly involved. To this day she declares that I told her one moving anecdote as to
               how a musket looked into my tent at the dead of night, and how I fired a
               double-barrelled tiger cub at it. At first I had some idea as to the direction in
               which we were driving; but soon, what with our pace, the fog, and my own limited
               knowledge of <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName>, I lost my
               bearings, and knew nothing, save that we seemed to be going a very long way. Sherlock
               Holmes was never at fault, however, and he muttered the names as the cab rattled
               through squares and in and out by tortuous by-streets.</p>
            <p>“Rochester Row," said he. “Now Vincent Square. Now we come out on the Vauxhall Bridge
               Road. We are making for the<pb n="159" facs="pageImages/159.jpg"/>
               <ref target="surreyside_" corresp="surreyside">
                                <placeName type="tgn" key="7008175">Surrey</placeName> side</ref>
               <note xml:id="surreyside" target="surreyside_" resp="editors.xml#TH" type="gloss">
                                <graphic url="notes/map-of-london-max.jpg" source="https://ontheworldmap.com/uk/city/london" alt="a map of London boroughs and surrounding areas, via On the World Map" desc="A map of London boroughs"/>Surrey is a county in southern
                  England; in this context, Surrey side refers to the south side of the river
                  Thames, which divides the city of London. This image, from <ref target="https://ontheworldmap.com/uk/city/london/"> On The World Map</ref>,
                  shows London boroughs and surrounding areas. </note>, apparently. Yes, I thought
               so. Now we are on the bridge. You can catch glimpses of the river."</p>
            <p>We did indeed get a fleeting view of a stretch of the <placeName type="tgn" key="7011913">Thames</placeName> with the lamps shining upon the broad, silent
               water; but our cab dashed on, and was soon involved in a labyrinth of streets upon
               the other side.</p>
            <p>“Wordsworth Road," said my companion. “Priory Road. Lark Hall Lane. Stockwell Place.
               Robert Street. Cold Harbor Lane. Our quest does not appear to take us to very
               fashionable regions."</p>
            <p>We had, indeed, reached a questionable and forbidding neighbourhood. Long lines of
               dull brick houses were only relieved by the coarse glare and tawdry brilliancy of
               public houses at the corner. Then came rows of two-storied villas each with a
               fronting of miniature garden, and then again interminable lines of new staring brick
               buildings,—the monster tentacles which the giant city was throwing out into the
               country. At last the cab drew up at the third house in a new terrace. None of the
               other houses were inhabited, and that at which we stopped was as dark as its
               neighbours, save for a single glimmer in the kitchen window. On our knocking,
               however, the door was instantly thrown open by a Hindoo servant clad in a yellow
               turban, white loose-fitting clothes, and a yellow sash. There was something strangely
               incongruous in this Oriental figure framed in the commonplace doorway of a third-rate
               suburban dwelling-house.</p>
            <p>“The <ref target="sahib_" corresp="sahib">Sahib</ref>
               <note xml:id="sahib" target="sahib_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">Sahib is a
                  title used by an Indian to address an English or European person. It may also
                  refer to a gentleman or socially acceptable person. (OED)</note> awaits you," said
               he, and even as he spoke there came a high piping voice from some inner room. “Show
               them in to me, <ref target="khitmutgar_" corresp="khitmutgar">khitmutgar</ref>
               <note xml:id="khitmutgar" target="khitmutgar_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A
                  khitmutgar is a male servant who serves a table. (OED)</note> ," it cried. “Show
               them straight in to me."</p>
         </div>
         <div>
            <head>CHAPTER IV.</head>
            <head type="sub">THE STORY OF THE BALD-HEADED MAN.</head>
            <p>We followed the Indian down a sordid and common passage, ill-lit and worse furnished,
               until he came to a door upon the right, which he threw open. A blaze of yellow light
               streamed out upon us, and in the centre of the glare there stood a small man with a
               very high head, a bristle of red hair all round the fringe of it, and a bald, shining
               scalp which shot out from among it like a mountain-peak from fir-trees. He writhed
               his hands together as he stood, and his features were in a perpetual jerk, now
               smiling, now scowling, but never for an instant in repose. Nature had given him a
               pendulous lip, and a too visible line of yellow and irregular teeth, which he strove
               feebly to conceal by constantly passing his hand over the lower part of his face. In
               spite of his obtrusive baldness, he gave the impression of youth. In point of fact he
               had just turned his thirtieth year.</p>
            <p>“Your servant, Miss ," he kept repeating, in a thin, high voice. “Your servant,
               gentlemen. Pray step into my little sanctum. A small place, miss, but furnished to my
               own liking. An oasis of art in the howling desert of South <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName>."</p>
            <p>We were all astonished by the appearance of the apartment into which he invited us.
               In that sorry house it looked as out of place as a diamond of the first water in a
               setting of brass. The richest and<pb n="160" facs="pageImages/160.jpg"/> glossiest of
               curtains and tapestries draped the walls, looped back here and there to expose some
               richly-mounted painting or Oriental vase. The carpet was of amber-and-black, so soft
               and so thick that the foot sank pleasantly into it, as into a bed of moss. Two great
               tiger-skins thrown athwart it increased the suggestion of Eastern luxury, as did a
               huge <ref target="hookah_" corresp="hookah">hookah</ref>
               <note xml:id="hookah" target="hookah_" resp="editors.xml#GG" type="gloss">
                                <graphic url="notes/hookah.jpg" source="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/3f/Qalyoon.jpg" alt="A photograph showing a Persian woman with a hooka (1900)" desc="Persian woman with a hooka, 1900 (Wikimedia Commons)"/>A hookah is a single or multi-stemmed device used to
                  smoke flavored tobacco, among other things, by vaporizing through a glass basin
                  before being inhaled. To read further, check out <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hookah">Wikipedia</ref>. This photo, <ref target="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/3f/Qalyoon.jpg?20070522150348">taken by Antoin Sevruguin in 1900, from Wikimedia Commons</ref>, shows a
                  Persian woman with hookah (qalyan).</note> which stood upon a mat in the corner. A
               lamp in the fashion of a silver dove was hung from an almost invisible golden wire in
               the centre of the room. As it burned it filled the air with a subtle and aromatic
               odour.</p>
            <p>“Mr. Thaddeus Sholto," said the little man, still jerking and smiling. “That is my
               name. You are Miss , of course. And these gentlemen—"</p>
            <p>“This is Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and this is Dr. Watson."</p>
            <p>“A doctor, eh?" cried he, much excited. “Have you your stethoscope? Might I ask
               you—would you have the kindness? I have grave doubts as to my mitral valve, if you
               would be so very good. The aortic I may rely upon, but I should value your opinion
               upon the mitral."</p>
            <p>I listened to his heart, as requested, but was unable to find anything amiss, save
               indeed that he was in an ecstasy of fear, for he shivered from head to foot. “It
               appears to be normal," I said. “You have no cause for uneasiness."</p>
            <p>“You will excuse my anxiety, Miss ," he remarked, airily. “I am a great sufferer, and
               I have long had suspicions as to that valve. I am delighted to hear that they are
               unwarranted. Had your father, Miss , refrained from throwing a strain upon his heart,
               he might have been alive now."</p>
            <p>I could have struck the man across the face, so hot was I at this callous and
               off-hand reference to so delicate a matter. Miss sat down, and her face grew white to
               the lips. “I knew in my heart that he was dead," said she.</p>
            <p>“I can give you every information," said he, “and, what is more, I can do you
               justice; and I will, too, whatever Brother Bartholomew may say. I am so glad to have
               your friends here, not only as an escort to you, but also as witnesses to what I am
               about to do and say. The three of us can show a bold front to Brother Bartholomew.
               But let us have no outsiders,—no police or officials. We can settle everything
               satisfactorily among ourselves, without any interference. Nothing would annoy Brother
               Bartholomew more than any publicity." He sat down upon a low settee and blinked at us
               inquiringly with his weak, watery blue eyes.</p>
            <p>“For my part," said Holmes, “whatever you may choose to say will go no further."</p>
            <p>I nodded to show my agreement.</p>
            <p>“That is well! That is well!" said he. “May I offer you a glass of Chianti, Miss ? Or
               of Tokay? I keep no other wines. Shall I open a flask? No? Well, then, I trust that
               you have no objection to tobacco-smoke, to the mild balsamic odour of the Eastern
               tobacco. I am a little nervous, and I find my hookah an invaluable sedative." He
               applied a taper to the great bowl, and the smoke bubbled <pb n="161 [break after bub-]" facs="pageImages/161.jpg"/>merrily through the
               rose-water. We sat all three in a semi-circle, with our heads advanced, and our chins
               upon our hands, while the strange, jerky little fellow, with his high, shining head,
               puffed uneasily in the centre.</p>
            <p>“When I first determined to make this communication to you," said he, “I might have
               given you my address, but I feared that you might disregard my request and bring
               unpleasant people with you. I took the liberty, therefore, of making an appointment
               in such a way that my man Williams might be able to see you first. I have complete
               confidence in his discretion, and he had orders, if he were dissatisfied, to proceed
               no further in the matter. You will excuse these precautions, but I am a man of
               somewhat retiring, and I might even say refined, tastes, and there is nothing more
               unæsthetic than a policeman. I have a natural shrinking from all forms of rough
               materialism. I seldom come in contact with the rough crowd. I live, as you see, with
               some little atmosphere of elegance around me. I may call myself a patron of the arts.
               It is my weakness. <ref target="corot_" corresp="corot">The landscape is a genuine
                  Corot</ref>
               <note xml:id="corot" target="corot_" resp="editors.xml#GG" type="gloss">
                                <graphic url="notes/corot.jpeg" alt="Corot's Evening on the Lake (c1872), via the                   National Gallery, London." desc="Corot, 'Evening on the Lake,' c1872 (National Gallery, London)" source="https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/jean-baptiste-camille-corot-evening-on-the-lake"/>Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot, 1796-1875, was a French
                  landscape painter who influenced the Impressionist movement You can learn more
                  about Corot from <ref target="https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/artists/jean-baptiste-camille-corot"> the UK National Gallery</ref>. <ref target="https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/jean-baptiste-camille-corot-evening-on-the-lake">The image included here is Corot's Evening on the Lake (c1872), via the
                     National Gallery, London.</ref>
                            </note> , and, though a connoisseur might
               perhaps throw a doubt upon that <ref target="salvator-rosa_" corresp="salvator-rosa">Salvator Rosa</ref>
               <note xml:id="salvator-rosa" target="salvator-rosa_" resp="editors.xml#GG" type="gloss">
                                <graphic url="notes/rosa-witches.jpeg" source="https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/salvator-rosa-witches-at-their-incantations" alt="painting by Rosa, 'Witches at Their Incantations,' c1646" desc="Rosa, 'Witches at Their Incantations,' c1646 (National Gallery, London)"/>Salvator Rosa, 1615-1673, was
                  an Italian landscaper painter whose works also depicted scenes of witchcraft. You
                  can learn more about Rosa from <ref target="https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/artists/salvator-rosa"> the UK
                     National Gallery</ref>. <ref target="https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/salvator-rosa-witches-at-their-incantations">The image included here is Rosa's Witches at their Incantations (c1646), via
                     the National Gallery, London.</ref>
                            </note>, there cannot be the least question
               about the Bouguereau. I am partial to the modern French school."</p>
            <p>“You will excuse me, Mr. Sholto," said Miss , “but I am here at your request to learn
               something which you desire to tell me. It is very late, and I should desire the
               interview to be as short as possible."</p>
            <p>“At the best it must take some time," he answered; “for we shall certainly have to go
               to <placeName type="tgn" key="7029209">Norwood</placeName> and see Brother
               Bartholomew. We shall all go and try if we can get the better of Brother Bartholomew.
               He is very angry with me for taking the course which has seemed right to me. I had
               quite high words with him last night. You cannot imagine what a terrible fellow he is
               when he is angry."</p>
            <p>“If we are to go to <placeName type="tgn" key="7029209">Norwood</placeName> it would
               perhaps be as well to start at once," I ventured to remark.</p>
            <p>He laughed until his ears were quite red. “That would hardly do," he cried. “I don’t
               know what he would say if I brought you in that sudden way. No, I must prepare you by
               showing you how we all stand to each other. In the first place, I must tell you that
               there are several points in the story of which I am myself ignorant. I can only lay
               the facts before you as far as I know them myself.</p>
            <p>“My father was, as you may have guessed, Major John Sholto, once of the Indian army.
               He retired some eleven years ago, and came to live at Pondicherry Lodge in Upper
                  <placeName type="tgn" key="7029209">Norwood</placeName>. He had prospered in
              <placeName type="tgn" key="7000198"> India</placeName>, and brought back with him a considerable sum of money, a large collection of
               valuable curiosities, and a staff of native servants. With these advantages he bought
               himself a house, and lived in great luxury. My twin-brother Bartholomew and I were
               the only children.</p>
            <p>“I very well remember the sensation which was caused by the disappearance of Captain
               . We read the details in the papers, and, knowing that he had been a friend of our
               father’s, we discussed the case freely in his presence. He used to join in our
               speculations as to what could have happened. Never for an instant did we suspect
                  that<pb n="162" facs="pageImages/162.jpg"/> he had the whole secret hidden in his
               own breast,—that of all men he alone knew the fate of Arthur .</p>
            <p>“We did know, however, that some mystery—some positive danger—overhung our father. He
               was very fearful of going out alone, and he always employed two prize-fighters to act
               as porters at Pondicherry Lodge. Williams, who drove you to-night, was one of them.
               He was once light-weight champion of <placeName type="tgn" key="7002445"> England</placeName>. Our father would never tell us what it
               was he feared, but he had a most marked aversion to men with wooden legs. On one
               occasion he actually fired his revolver at a wooden-legged man, who proved to be a
               harmless tradesman canvassing for orders. We had to pay a large sum to hush the
               matter up. My brother and I used to think this a mere whim of my father’s, but events
               have since led us to change our opinion.</p>
            <p>“Early in 1882 my father received a letter from <placeName type="tgn" key="7000198"> India</placeName> which was a great shock to him.
               He nearly fainted at the breakfast-table when he opened it, and from that day he
               sickened to his death. What was in the letter we could never discover, but I could
               see as he held it that it was short and written in a scrawling hand. He had suffered
               for years from an enlarged spleen, but he now became rapidly worse, and towards the
               end of April we were informed that he was beyond all hope, and that he wished to make
               a last communication to us.</p>
            <p>“When we entered his room he was propped up with pillows and breathing heavily. He
               besought us to lock the door and to come upon either side of the bed. Then, grasping
               our hands, he made a remarkable statement to us, in a voice which was broken as much
               by emotion as by pain. I shall try and give it to you in his own very words.</p>
            <p>“‘I have only one thing,’ he said, ‘which weighs upon my mind at this supreme moment.
               It is my treatment of poor ’s orphan. The cursed greed which has been my besetting
               sin through life has withheld from her the treasure, half at least of which should
               have been hers. And yet I have made no use of it myself,—so blind and foolish a thing
               is avarice. The mere feeling of possession has been so dear to me that I could not
               bear to share it with another. See that chaplet dipped with pearls beside the
               quinine-bottle. Even that I could not bear to part with, although I had got it out
               with the design of sending it to her. You, my sons, will give her a fair share of the
               Agra treasure. But send her nothing—not even the chaplet—until I am gone. After all,
               men have been as bad as this and have recovered.</p>
            <p>“‘I will tell you how died,’ he continued. ‘He had suffered for years from a weak
               heart, but he concealed it from every one. I alone knew it. When in <placeName type="tgn" key="7000198"> India</placeName>, he and I,
               through a remarkable chain of circumstances, came into possession of a considerable
               treasure. I brought it over to <placeName type="tgn" key="7002445"> England</placeName>, and on the night of ’s arrival he came
               straight over here to claim his share. He walked over from the station, and was
               admitted by my faithful old Lal Chowdar, who is now dead. and I had a difference of
               opinion as to the division of the treasure, and we came to heated words. had sprung
               out of his chair in a paroxysm of anger, when he suddenly pressed his hand to his
               side, his face turned a dusky hue, and he fell backwards, cutting<pb n="163" facs="pageImages/163.jpg"/> his head against the corner of the treasure-chest.
               When I stooped over him I found, to my horror, that he was dead.</p>
            <p>“‘For a long time I sat half distracted, wondering what I should do. My first impulse
               was, of course, to call for assistance; but I could not but recognise that there was
               every chance that I would be accused of his murder. His death at the moment of a
               quarrel, and the gash in his head, would be black against me. Again, an official
               inquiry could not be made without bringing out some facts about the treasure, which I
               was particularly anxious to keep secret. He had told me that no soul upon earth knew
               where he had gone. There seemed to be no necessity why any soul ever should know.</p>
            <p>“‘I was still pondering over the matter, when, looking up, I saw my servant, Lal
               Chowdar, in the doorway. He stole in and bolted the door behind him. “Do not fear,
               Sahib," he said. “No one need know that you have killed him. Let us hide him away,
               and who is the wiser?" “I did not kill him," said I. Lal Chowdar shook his head and
               smiled. “I heard it all, Sahib," said he. “I heard you quarrel, and I heard the blow.
               But my lips are sealed. All are asleep in the house. Let us put him away together."
               That was enough to decide me. If my own servant could not believe my innocence, how
               could I hope to make it good before twelve foolish tradesmen in a jury-box? Lal
               Chowdar and I disposed of the body that night, and within a few days the <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName> papers were full of the mysterious
               disappearance of Captain . You will see from what I say that I can hardly be blamed
               in the matter. My fault lies in the fact that we concealed not only the body, but
               also the treasure, and that I have clung to ’s share as well as to my own. I wish
               you, therefore, to make restitution. Put your ears down to my mouth. The treasure is
               hidden in—’</p>
            <p>“At this instant a horrible change came over his expression; his eyes stared wildly,
               his jaw dropped, and he yelled, in a voice which I can never forget, ‘Keep him out!
               For Christ’s sake keep him out!’ We both stared round at the window behind us upon
               which his gaze was fixed. A face was looking in at us out of the darkness. We could
               see the whitening of the nose where it was pressed against the glass. It was a
               bearded, hairy face, with wild cruel eyes and an expression of concentrated
               malevolence. My brother and<pb n="164" facs="pageImages/164.jpg"/> I rushed towards
               the window, but the man was gone. When we returned to my father his head had dropped
               and his pulse had ceased to beat.</p>
            <p>“We searched the garden that night, but found no sign of the intruder, save that just
               under the window a single footmark was visible in the flower-bed. But for that one
               trace, we might have thought that our imaginations had conjured up that wild, fierce
               face. We soon, however, had another and a more striking proof that there were secret
               agencies at work all round us. The window of my father’s room was found open in the
               morning, his cupboards and boxes had been rifled, and upon his chest was fixed a torn
               piece of paper, with the words ‘The sign of the four’ scrawled across it. What the
               phrase meant, or who our secret visitor may have been, we never knew. As far as we
               can judge, none of my father’s property had been actually stolen, though everything
               had been turned out. My brother and I naturally associated this peculiar incident
               with the fear which haunted my father during his life; but it is still a complete
               mystery to us."</p>
            <p>The little man stopped to relight his hookah and puffed thoughtfully for a few
               moments. We had all sat absorbed, listening to his extraordinary narrative. At the
               short account of her father’s death Miss had turned deadly white, and for a moment I
               feared that she was about to faint. She rallied however, on drinking a glass of water
               which I quietly poured out for her from a <ref target="carafe_" corresp="carafe">a
                  Venetian carafe</ref>
               <note xml:id="carafe" target="carafe_" resp="editors.xml#TH" type="gloss">
                                <graphic url="notes/carafe.jpeg" desc="17th/18th-century Venetian glass carafe (VAM)" alt="a photograph from the Victoria and Albert Museum showing a 17th/18th-century Venetian glass carafe (VAM)" source="https://framemark.vam.ac.uk/collections/2013GN7862/full/735,/0/default.jpg"/>Here is an example of a 17th-18th century glass carafe
                  from Venice, via the <ref target="https://framemark.vam.ac.uk/collections/2013GN7862/full/735,/0/default.jpg">Victoria and Albert Museum</ref>. It gives some idea of Sholto's decorative
                  sensibility. </note> upon the side-table. Sherlock Holmes leaned back in his chair
               with an abstracted expression and the lids drawn low over his glittering eyes. As I
               glanced at him I could not but think how on that very day he had complained bitterly
               of the commonplaceness of life. Here at least was a problem which would tax his
               sagacity to the utmost. Mr. Thaddeus Sholto looked from one to the other of us with
               an obvious pride at the effect which his story had produced, and then continued
               between the puffs of his overgrown pipe.</p>
            <p>“My brother and I," said he, “were, as you may imagine, much excited as to the
               treasure which my father had spoken of. For weeks and for months we dug and delved in
               every part of the garden, without discovering its whereabouts. It was maddening to
               think that the hiding-place was on his very lips at the moment that he died. We could
               judge the splendour of the missing riches by the chaplet which he had taken out. Over
               this chaplet my brother Bartholomew and I had some little discussion. The pearls were
               evidently of great value, and he was averse to part with them, for, between friends,
               my brother was himself a little inclined to my father’s fault. He thought, too, that
               if we parted with the chaplet it might give rise to gossip and finally bring us into
               trouble. It was all that I could do to persuade him to let me find out Miss ’s
               address and send her a detached pearl at fixed intervals, so that at least she might
               never feel destitute."</p>
            <p>“It was a kindly thought," said our companion, earnestly. “It was extremely good of
               you."</p>
            <p>The little man waved his hand deprecatingly. “We were your trustees," he said. “That
               was the view which I took of it, though Brother Bartholomew could not altogether see
               it in that light. We had plenty of money ourselves. I desired no more. Besides, it
               would have been such bad taste to have treated a young lady in so scurvy a fashion.
               ‘Le mauvais goût mène au crime.’ The French have a very neat way of putting these
               things. Our difference of opinion on this subject went so far that I thought it best
               to set up rooms for myself: so I left Pondicherry Lodge, taking the old khitmutgar
               and Williams with me. Yesterday, however, I learn that an event of extreme importance
               has occurred. The treasure has been discovered. I instantly communicated with Miss ,
               and it only remains for us to drive out to <placeName type="tgn" key="7029209">Norwood</placeName> and demand our share. I explained my views last night to
               Brother Bartholomew: so we shall be expected, if not welcome, visitors."</p>
            <p>Mr. Thaddeus Sholto ceased, and sat twitching on his luxurious settee. We all
               remained silent, with our thoughts upon the new<pb n="165" facs="pageImages/165.jpg"/> development which the mysterious business had taken. Holmes was the first to
               spring to his feet.</p>
            <p>“You have done well, sir, from first to last," said he. “It is possible that we may
               be able to make you some small return by throwing some light upon that which is still
               dark to you. But, as Miss remarked just now, it is late, and we had best put the
               matter through without delay."</p>
            <p>Our new acquaintance very deliberately coiled up the tube of his hookah, and produced
               from behind a curtain a very long befrogged topcoat with <ref target="astrakhan_" corresp="astrakhan">Astrakhan collar and cuffs</ref>
               <note xml:id="astrakhan" target="astrakhan_" resp="editors.xml#GG" type="gloss">
                                <graphic url="notes/astrakhan.jpeg" source="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/7/70/Fur_coat_%28AM_2016.47.1-1%29.jpg/800px-Fur_coat_%28AM_2016.47.1-1%29.jpg" desc="Astrakhan fur coat (Wikimedia Commons)" alt="photograph of an astrakhan fur coat (Wikimedia Commons)"/>Astrakhan is wool from very young lambs,
                  resembling fur. It is mainly used as trimming on garments (OED). This image, <ref target="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/7/70/Fur_coat_%28AM_2016.47.1-1%29.jpg/800px-Fur_coat_%28AM_2016.47.1-1%29.jpg">from Raimon Furts Ltd on Wikimedia Commons</ref>, shows a fur coat from this
                  type of wool. </note>. This he buttoned tightly up, in spite of the extreme
               closeness of the night, and finished his attire by putting on a rabbit-skin cap with
               hanging lappets which covered the ears, so that no part of him was visible save his
               mobile and peaky face. “My health is somewhat fragile," he remarked, as he led the
               way down the passage. “I am compelled to be a <ref target="valetudinarian_" corresp="valetudinarian">valetudinarian</ref>
               <note xml:id="valetudinarian" target="valetudinarian_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A valetudinarian is someone who is in poor health, or is
                  always worried about their health. (OED)</note> ."</p>
            <p>Our cab was awaiting us outside, and our programme was evidently prearranged, for the
               driver started off at once at a rapid pace. Thaddeus Sholto talked incessantly, in a
               voice which rose high above the rattle of the wheels.</p>
            <p>“Bartholomew is a clever fellow," said he. “How do you think he found out where the
               treasure was? He had come to the conclusion that it was somewhere indoors: so he
               worked out all the cubic space of the house, and made measurements everywhere, so
               that not one inch should be unaccounted for. Among other things, he found that the
               height of the building was seventy-four feet, but on adding together the heights of
               all the separate rooms, and making every allowance for the space between, which he
               ascertained by borings, he could not bring the total to more than seventy feet. There
               were four feet unaccounted for. These could only be at the top of the building. He
               knocked a hole, therefore, in the lath-and-plaster ceiling of the highest room, and
               there, sure enough, he came upon another little garret above it, which had been
               sealed up and was known to no one. In the centre stood the treasure-chest, resting
               upon two rafters. He lowered it through the hole, and there it lies. He computes the
               value of the jewels at not less than half a million sterling."</p>
            <p>At the mention of this gigantic sum we all stared at one another open-eyed. Miss ,
               could we secure her rights, would change from a needy governess to the richest
               heiress in<placeName type="tgn" key="7002445"> England</placeName>. Surely it was the place of a loyal friend to rejoice at such
               news; yet I am ashamed to say that selfishness took me by the soul, and that my heart
               turned as heavy as lead within me. I stammered out some few halting words of
               congratulation, and then sat downcast, with my head drooped, deaf to the babble of
               our new acquaintance. He was clearly a confirmed hypochondriac, and I was dreamily
               conscious that he was pouring forth interminable trains of symptoms, and imploring
               information as to the composition and action of innumerable <ref target="quack_" corresp="quack">quack nostrums</ref>
               <note xml:id="quack" target="quack_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">A "quack" is
                  someone who pretends to medical knowledge. Here, the Watson is describing Sholto's
                  many medical remedies--nostrums--as fake (OED).</note> , some of which he bore
               about in a leather case in his pocket. I trust that he may not remember any of the
               answers which I gave him that night. Holmes declares that he overheard me caution him
               against the great danger of taking more than two drops of castor oil, while I
                  recommended<pb n="166 [Break after recom-]" facs="pageImages/166.jpg"/> strychnine
               in large doses as a sedative. However that may be, I was certainly relieved when our
               cab pulled up with a jerk and the coachman sprang down to open the door.</p>
            <p>“This, Miss , is Pondicherry Lodge," said Mr. Thaddeus Sholto, as he handed her
               out.</p>
         </div>
         <div>
            <head>CHAPTER V.</head>
            <head type="sub">THE TRAGEDY OF PONDICHERRY LODGE.</head>
            <p>It was nearly eleven o’clock when we reached this final stage of our night’s
               adventures. We had left the damp fog of the great city behind us, and the night was
               fairly fine. A warm wind blew from the westward, and heavy clouds moved slowly across
               the sky, with half a moon peeping occasionally through the rifts. It was clear enough
               to see for some distance, but Thaddeus Sholto took down one of the side-lamps from
               the carriage to give us a better light upon our way.</p>
            <p>Pondicherry Lodge stood in its own grounds, and was girt round with a very high stone
               wall topped with broken glass. A single narrow iron-clamped door formed the only
               means of entrance. On this our guide knocked with a peculiar postman-like
               rat-tat.</p>
            <p>“Who is there?" cried a gruff voice from within.</p>
            <p>“It is I, McMurdo. You surely know my knock by this time."</p>
            <p>There was a grumbling sound and a clanking and jarring of keys. The door swung
               heavily back, and a short, deep-chested man stood in the opening, with the yellow
               light of the lantern shining upon his protruded face and twinkling distrustful
               eyes.</p>
            <p>“That you, Mr. Thaddeus? But who are the others? I had no orders about them from the
               master."</p>
            <p>“No, McMurdo? You surprise me! I told my brother last night that I should bring some
               friends."</p>
            <p>“He ain’t been out o’ his room to-day, Mr. Thaddeus, and I have no orders. You know
               very well that I must stick to regulations. I can let you in, but your friends must
               just stop where they are."</p>
            <p>This was an unexpected obstacle. Thaddeus Sholto looked about him in a perplexed and
               helpless manner. “This is too bad of you, McMurdo!" he said. “If I guarantee them,
               that is enough for you. There is the young lady, too. She cannot wait on the public
               road at this hour."</p>
            <p>“Very sorry, Mr. Thaddeus," said the porter, inexorably. “Folk may be friends o’
               yours, and yet no friends o’ the master’s. He pays me well to do my duty, and my duty
               I’ll do. I don’t know none o’ your friends."</p>
            <p>“Oh, yes you do, McMurdo," cried Sherlock Holmes, genially. “I don’t think you can
               have forgotten me. Don’t you remember the amateur who fought three rounds with you at
                  <ref target="alisons-rooms_" corresp="alisons-rooms">tAlison’s rooms</ref>
               <note xml:id="alisons-rooms" target="alisons-rooms_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">Boxing was a popular and illegal sport throughout the
                  18th-19th centuries. Here is a collection of primary source accounts of boxing
                  during the Victorian era, which often took place in tavern or pub rooms. Here, the
                  "benefit" refers to an evening's entertainment a portion of the proceeds from
                  which would go to benefit the boxer or performer.<ref target="https://www.victorianlondon.org/entertainment/boxing.htm">Victorian
                     London: Boxing</ref>.</note> on the night of your benefit four years back?"</p>
            <p>“Not Mr. Sherlock Holmes!" roared the prize-fighter. “God’s truth! how could I have
               mistook you? If instead o’ standin’ there<pb n="167" facs="pageImages/167.jpg"/> so
               quiet you had just stepped up and given me that cross-hit of yours under the jaw, I’d
               ha’ known you without a question. Ah, you’re one that has wasted your gifts, you
               have! You might have aimed high, if you had joined the fancy."</p>
            <p>“You see, Watson, if all else fails me I have still one of the scientific professions
               open to me," said Holmes, laughing. “Our friend won’t keep us out in the cold now, I
               am sure."</p>
            <p>“In you come, sir, in you come,—you and your friends," he answered. “Very sorry, Mr.
               Thaddeus, but orders are very strict. Had to be certain of your friends before I let
               them in."</p>
            <p>Inside, a gravel path wound through desolate grounds to a huge clump of a house,
               square and prosaic, all plunged in shadow save where a moonbeam struck one corner and
               glimmered in a garret window. The vast size of the building, with its gloom and its
               deathly silence, struck a chill to the heart. Even Thaddeus Sholto seemed ill at
               ease, and the lantern quivered and rattled in his hand.</p>
            <p>“I cannot understand it," he said. “There must be some mistake. I distinctly told
               Bartholomew that we should be here, and yet there is no light in his window. I do not
               know what to make of it."</p>
            <p>“Does he always guard the premises in this way?" asked Holmes.</p>
            <p>“Yes; he has followed my father’s custom. He was the favourite son, you know, and I
               sometimes think that my father may have told him more than he ever told me. That is
               Bartholomew’s window up there where the moonshine strikes. It is quite bright, but
               there is no light from within, I think."</p>
            <p>“None," said Holmes. “But I see the glint of a light in that little window beside the
               door."</p>
            <p>“Ah, that is the housekeeper’s room. That is where old Mrs. Bernstone sits. She can
               tell us all about it. But perhaps you would not mind waiting here for a minute or
               two, for if we all go in together and she has no word of our coming she may be
               alarmed. But hush! what is that?"</p>
            <p>He held up the lantern, and his hand shook until the circles of light flickered and
               wavered all round us. Miss seized my wrist, and we all stood with thumping hearts,
               straining our ears. From the great black house there sounded through the silent night
               the saddest and most pitiful of sounds,—the shrill, broken whimpering of a frightened
               woman.</p>
            <p>“It is Mrs. Bernstone," said Sholto. “She is the only woman in the house. Wait here.
               I shall be back in a moment." He hurried for the door, and knocked in his peculiar
               way. We could see a tall old woman admit him, and sway with pleasure at the very
               sight of him.</p>
            <p>“Oh, Mr. Thaddeus, sir, I am so glad you have come! I am so glad you have come, Mr.
               Thaddeus, sir!" We heard her reiterated rejoicings until the door was closed and her
               voice died away into a muffled monotone.</p>
            <p>Our guide had left us the lantern. Holmes swung it slowly round, and peered keenly at
               the house, and at the great rubbish-heaps which cumbered the grounds. Miss and I
               stood together, and her hand was in mine. A wondrous subtle thing is love, for here
               were we<pb n="168" facs="pageImages/168.jpg"/> two who had never seen each other
               before that day, between whom no word or even look of affection had ever passed, and
               yet now in an hour of trouble our hands instinctively sought for each other. I have
               marvelled at it since, but at the time it seemed the most natural thing that I should
               go out to her so, and, as she has often told me, there was in her also the instinct
               to turn to me for comfort and protection. So we stood hand in hand, like two
               children, and there was peace in our hearts for all the dark things that surrounded
               us.</p>
            <p>“What a strange place!" she said, looking round.</p>
            <p>“It looks as though all the moles in <placeName type="tgn" key="7002445">England</placeName> had been let loose in it. I have seen
               something of the sort on the side of a hill near Ballarat, where the prospectors had
               been at work."</p>
            <p>“And from the same cause," said Holmes. “These are the traces of the
               treasure-seekers. You must remember that they were six years looking for it. No
               wonder that the grounds look like a gravel-pit."</p>
            <p>At that moment the door of the house burst open, and Thaddeus Sholto came running
               out, with his hands thrown forward and terror in his eyes.</p>
            <p>“There is something amiss with Bartholomew!" he cried. “I am frightened! My nerves
               cannot stand it." He was, indeed, half blubbering with fear, and his twitching feeble
               face peeping out from the great Astrakhan collar had the helpless appealing
               expression of a terrified child.</p>
            <p>“Come into the house," said Holmes, in his crisp, firm way.</p>
            <p>“Yes, do!" pleaded Thaddeus Sholto. “I really do not feel equal to giving
               directions."</p>
            <p>We all followed him into the housekeeper’s room, which stood upon the left-hand side
               of the passage. The old woman was pacing up and down with a scared look and restless
               picking fingers, but the sight of Miss appeared to have a soothing effect upon
               her.</p>
            <p>“God bless your sweet calm face!" she cried, with an hysterical sob. “It does me good
               to see you. Oh, but I have been sorely tried this day!"</p>
            <p>Our companion patted her thin, work-worn hand, and murmured some few words of kindly
               womanly comfort which brought the colour back into the other’s bloodless cheeks.</p>
            <p>“Master has locked himself in and will not answer me," she explained. “All day I have
               waited to hear from him, for he often likes to be alone; but an hour ago I feared
               that something was amiss, so I went up and peeped through the key-hole. You must go
               up, Mr. Thaddeus,—you must go up and look for yourself. I have seen Mr. Bartholomew
               Sholto in joy and in sorrow for ten long years, but I never saw him with such a face
               on him as that."</p>
            <p>Sherlock Holmes took the lamp and led the way, for Thaddeus Sholto’s teeth were
               chattering in his head. So shaken was he that I had to pass my hand under his arm as
               we went up the stairs, for his knees were trembling under him. Twice as we ascended
               Holmes whipped his lens out of his pocket and carefully examined marks which appeared
               to me to be mere shapeless smudges of dust upon the cocoa-nut matting which served as
               a stair-carpet. He walked slowly from step to<pb n="169" facs="pageImages/169.jpg"/>
               step, holding the lamp, and shooting keen glances to right and left. Miss had
               remained behind with the frightened housekeeper.</p>
            <p>The third flight of stairs ended in a straight passage of some length, with a great
               picture in Indian tapestry upon the right of it and three doors upon the left. Holmes
               advanced along it in the same slow and methodical way, while we kept close at his
               heels, with our long black shadows streaming backwards down the corridor. The third
               door was that which we were seeking. Holmes knocked without receiving any answer, and
               then tried to turn the handle and force it open. It was locked on the inside,
               however, and by a broad and powerful bolt, as we could see when we set our lamp up
               against it. The key being turned, however, the hole was not entirely closed. Sherlock
               Holmes bent down to it, and instantly rose again with a sharp intaking of the
               breath.</p>
            <p>“There is something devilish in this, Watson," said he, more moved than I had ever
               before seen him. “What do you make of it?"</p>
            <p>I stooped to the hole, and recoiled in horror. Moonlight was streaming into the room,
               and it was bright with a vague and shifty radiance. Looking straight at me, and
               suspended, as it were, in the air, for all beneath was in shadow, there hung a
               face,—the very face of our companion Thaddeus. There was the same high, shining head,
               the same circular bristle of red hair, the same bloodless countenance. The features
               were set, however, in a horrible smile, a fixed and unnatural grin, which in that
               still and moonlit room was more jarring to the nerves than any scowl or contortion.
               So like was the face to that of our little friend that I looked round at him to make
               sure that he was indeed with us. Then I recalled to mind that he had mentioned to us
               that his brother and he were twins.</p>
            <p>“This is terrible!" I said to Holmes. “What is to be done?"</p>
            <p>“The door must come down," he answered, and, springing against it, he put all his
               weight upon the lock. It creaked and groaned, but did not yield. Together we flung
               ourselves upon it once more, and this time it gave way with a sudden snap, and we
               found ourselves within Bartholomew Sholto’s chamber.</p>
            <p>It appeared to have been fitted up as a chemical laboratory. A double line of
               glass-stoppered bottles was drawn up upon the wall opposite the door, and the table
               was littered over with Bunsen burners, test-tubes, and <ref target="retort_" corresp="retort">retorts</ref>
               <note xml:id="retort" target="retort_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A retort is
                  a glass container with a bulb used to distill liquids. (OED)</note> . In the
               corners stood <ref target="carboy_" corresp="carboy">carboys</ref>
               <note xml:id="carboy" target="carboy_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A carboy is
                  a large glass bottle with a narrow neck to hold corrosive or pharmaceutical
                  chemicals. (OED)</note> of acid in wicker baskets. One of these appeared to leak
               or to have been broken, for a stream of dark-coloured liquid had trickled out from
               it, and the air was heavy with a peculiarly pungent, tar-like odour. A set of steps
               stood at one side of the room, in the midst of a litter of <ref target="lath_" corresp="lath">lath and plaster</ref>
               <note xml:id="lath" target="lath_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">Lath and
                  plaster refers to materials used to build walls or partitions, usually from thin
                  strips of wood. (OED)</note>, and above them there was an opening in the ceiling
               large enough for a man to pass through. At the foot of the steps a long coil of rope
               was thrown carelessly together.</p>
            <p>By the table, in a wooden arm-chair, the master of the house was seated all in a
               heap, with his head sunk upon his left shoulder, and that ghastly, inscrutable smile
               upon his face. He was stiff and cold, and had clearly been dead many hours. It seemed
               to me that not only his features but all his limbs were twisted and turned in the
               most fantastic fashion. By his hand upon the table there lay a peculiar
                  instrument,—<pb n="170" facs="pageImages/170.jpg"/>a brown, close-grained stick,
               with a stone head like a hammer, rudely lashed on with coarse twine. Beside it was a
               torn sheet of note-paper with some words scrawled upon it. Holmes glanced at it, and
               then handed it to me.</p>
            <p>“You see," he said, with a significant raising of the eyebrows.</p>
            <p>In the light of the lantern I read, with a thrill of horror, “The sign of the
               four."</p>
            <p>“In God’s name, what does it all mean?" I asked.</p>
            <p>“It means murder," said he, stooping over the dead man. “Ah, I expected it. Look
               here!" He pointed to what looked like a long, dark thorn stuck in the skin just above
               the ear.</p>
            <p>“It looks like a thorn," said I.</p>
            <p>“It is a thorn. You may pick it out. But be careful, for it is poisoned."</p>
            <p>I took it up between my finger and thumb. It came away from the skin so readily that
               hardly any mark was left behind. One tiny speck of blood showed where the puncture
               had been.</p>
            <p>“This is all an insoluble mystery to me," said I. “It grows darker instead of
               clearer."</p>
            <p>“On the contrary," he answered, “it clears every instant. I only require a few
               missing links to have an entirely connected case."</p>
            <p>We had almost forgotten our companion’s presence since we entered the chamber. He was
               still standing in the doorway, the very picture of terror, wringing his hands and
               moaning to himself. Suddenly, however, he broke out into a sharp, querulous cry.</p>
            <p>“The treasure is gone!" he said. “They have robbed him of the treasure! There is the
               hole through which we lowered it. I helped him to do it! I was the last person who
               saw him! I left him here last night, and I heard him lock the door as I came
               downstairs."</p>
            <p>“What time was that?"</p>
            <p>“It was ten o’clock. And now he is dead, and <ref target="vicpolice_" corresp="vicpolice">the police</ref>
               <note xml:id="vicpolice" target="vicpolice_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#GG">During the Victorian Era, at first the public did not trust police forces,
                  because they felt that it was a way the government suppressed free speech. To read
                  more about the police during this time, check out <ref target="https://thejacktherippertour.com/blog/the-police-in-victorian-england-what-were-they-like/">The Jack the Ripper Tour</ref>.</note> will be called in, and I shall be
               suspected of having had a hand in it. Oh, yes, I am sure I shall. But you don’t think
               so, gentlemen? Surely you don’t think that it was I? Is it likely that I would have
               brought you here if it were I? Oh, dear! oh, dear! I know that I shall go mad!" He
               jerked his arms and stamped his feet in a kind of convulsive frenzy.</p>
            <p>“You have no reason for fear, Mr. Sholto," said Holmes, kindly, putting his hand upon
               his shoulder. “Take my advice, and drive down to the station to report this matter to
               the police. Offer to assist them in every way. We shall wait here until your
               return."</p>
            <p>The little man obeyed in a half-stupefied fashion, and we heard him stumbling down
               the stairs in the dark.</p>
         </div>
         <div>
            <head>CHAPTER VI.</head>
            <head type="sub">SHERLOCK HOLMES GIVES A DEMONSTRATION.</head>
            <p>“Now, Watson," said Holmes, rubbing his hands, “we have half an hour to ourselves.
               Let us make good use of it. My case is, as I have told you, almost complete; but we
               must not err on the side of<pb n="171" facs="pageImages/171.jpg"/> over-confidence.
               Simple as the case seems now, there may be something deeper underlying it."</p>
            <p>“Simple!" I ejaculated.</p>
            <p>“Surely," said he, with something of the air of a clinical professor expounding to
               his class. “Just sit in the corner there, that your footprints may not complicate
               matters. Now to work! In the first place, how did these folk come, and how did they
               go? The door has not been opened since last night. How of the window?" He carried the
               lamp across to it, muttering his observations aloud the while, but addressing them to
               himself rather than to me. “Window is <ref target="snib_" corresp="snib">snibbed</ref>
               <note xml:id="snib" target="snib_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A snib is a
                  fastening on a window, door, or lock (OED). Here, the window is been locked on the
                  inside.</note> on the inner side. Framework is solid. No hinges at the side. Let
               us open it. No water-pipe near. Roof quite out of reach. Yet a man has mounted by the
               window. It rained a little last night. Here is the print of a foot in mould upon the
               sill. And here is a circular muddy mark, and here again upon the floor, and here
               again by the table. See here, Watson! This is really a very pretty
               demonstration."</p>
            <p>I looked at the round, well-defined muddy discs. “This is not a <ref target="footmark_" corresp="footmark">footmark</ref>
               <note xml:id="footmark" target="footmark_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#GG">Sherlock Holmes was a man of science who had worked in a chemistry laboratory.
                  Conan Doyle described a number of forensic methods before they were adopted by the
                  police force. See <ref target="https://www.britannica.com/topic/Sherlock-Holmes-Pioneer-in-Forensic-Science-1976713">Sherlock Holmes: Pioneer in Forensic Science</ref> in the Encyclopedia
                  Britannica.</note>," said I.</p>
            <p>“It is something much more valuable to us. It is the impression of a wooden stump.
               You see here on the sill is the boot-mark, a heavy boot with the broad metal heel,
               and beside it is the mark of the timber-toe."</p>
            <p>“It is the wooden-legged man."</p>
            <p>“Quite so. But there has been some one else,—a very able and efficient ally. Could
               you scale that wall, doctor?"</p>
            <p>I looked out of the open window. The moon still shone brightly on that angle of the
               house. We were a good sixty feet from the ground, and, look where I would, I could
               see no foothold, nor as much as a crevice in the brick-work.</p>
            <p>“It is absolutely impossible," I answered.</p>
            <p>“Without aid it is so. But suppose you had a friend up here who lowered you this good
               stout rope which I see in the corner, securing one end of it to this great hook in
               the wall. Then, I think, if you were an active man, You might swarm up, wooden leg
               and all. You would depart, of course, in the same fashion, and your ally would draw
               up the rope, untie it from the hook, shut the window, snib it on the inside, and get
               away in the way that he originally came. As a minor point it may be noted," he
               continued, fingering the rope, “that our wooden-legged friend, though a fair climber,
               was not a professional sailor. His hands were far from horny. My lens discloses more
               than one blood-mark, especially towards the end of the rope, from which I gather that
               he slipped down with such velocity that he took the skin off his hand."</p>
            <p>“This is all very well," said I, “but the thing becomes more unintelligible than
               ever. How about this mysterious ally? How came he into the room?"</p>
            <p>“Yes, the ally!" repeated Holmes, pensively. “There are features of interest about
               this ally. He lifts the case from the regions of the commonplace. I fancy that this
               ally breaks fresh ground in the annals of crime in this country,—though parallel
               cases suggest themselves from <placeName type="tgn" key="7000198"> India</placeName>, and, if my memory serves me, from
               Senegambia."</p>
            <pb n="172" facs="pageImages/172.jpg"/>
            <p>“How came he, then?" I reiterated. “The door is locked, the window is inaccessible.
               Was it through the chimney?"</p>
            <p>“The grate is much too small," he answered. “I had already considered that
               possibility."</p>
            <p>“How then?" I persisted.</p>
            <p>“You will not apply my precept," he said, shaking his head. “How often have I said to
               you that when you have eliminated the impossible whatever remains, however
               improbable, must be the truth? We know that he did not come through the door, the
               window, or the chimney. We also know that he could not have been concealed in the
               room, as there is no concealment possible. Whence, then, did he come?"</p>
            <p>“He came through the hole in the roof," I cried.</p>
            <p>“Of course he did. He must have done so. If you will have the kindness to hold the
               lamp for me, we shall now extend our researches to the room above,—the secret room in
               which the treasure was found."</p>
            <p>He mounted the steps, and, seizing a rafter with either hand, he swung himself up
               into the garret. Then, lying on his face, he reached down for the lamp and held it
               while I followed him.</p>
            <p>The chamber in which we found ourselves was about ten feet one way and six the other.
               The floor was formed by the rafters, with thin lath-and-plaster between, so that in
               walking one had to step from beam to beam. The roof ran up to an apex, and was
               evidently the inner shell of the true roof of the house. There was no furniture of
               any sort, and the accumulated dust of years lay thick upon the floor.</p>
            <p>“Here you are, you see," said Sherlock Holmes, putting his hand against the sloping
               wall. “This is a trap-door which leads out on to the roof. I can press it back, and
               here is the roof itself, sloping at a gentle angle. This, then, is the way by which
               Number One entered. Let us see if we can find any other traces of his
               individuality."</p>
            <p>He held down the lamp to the floor, and as he did so I saw for the second time that
               night a startled, surprised look come over his face. For myself, as I followed his
               gaze my skin was cold under my clothes. The floor was covered thickly with the prints
               of a naked foot,—clear, well defined, perfectly formed, but scarce half the size of
               those of an ordinary man.</p>
            <p>“Holmes," I said, in a whisper, “a child has done the horrid thing."</p>
            <p>He had recovered his self-possession in an instant. “I was staggered for the moment,"
               he said, “but the thing is quite natural. My memory failed me, or I should have been
               able to foretell it. There is nothing more to be learned here. Let us go down."</p>
            <p>“What is your theory, then, as to those footmarks?" I asked, eagerly, when we had
               regained the lower room once more.</p>
            <p>“My dear Watson, try a little analysis yourself," said he, with a touch of
               impatience. “You know my methods. Apply them, and it will be instructive to compare
               results."</p>
            <p>“I cannot conceive anything which will cover the facts," I answered.</p>
            <p>“It will be clear enough to you soon," he said, in an off-hand way. “I think that
               there is nothing else of importance here, but I will look."<pb n="173" facs="pageImages/173.jpg"/> He whipped out his lens and a tape measure, and
               hurried about the room on his knees, measuring, comparing, examining, with his long
               thin nose only a few inches from the planks, and his beady eyes gleaming and deep-set
               like those of a bird. So swift, silent, and furtive were his movements, like those of
               a trained blood-hound picking out a scent, that I could not but think what a terrible
               criminal he would have made had he turned his energy and sagacity against the law,
               instead of exerting them in its defence. As he hunted about, he kept muttering to
               himself, and finally he broke out into a loud crow of delight.</p>
            <p>“We are certainly in luck," said he. “We ought to have very little trouble now.
               Number One has had the misfortune to tread in the creosote. You can see the outline
               of the edge of his small foot here at the side of this evil-smelling mess. The carboy
               has been cracked, You see, and the stuff has leaked out."</p>
            <p>“What then?" I asked.</p>
            <p>“Why, we have got him, that’s all," said he. “I know a dog that would follow that
               scent to the world’s end. If a pack can track a trailed herring across a shire, how
               far can a specially-trained hound follow so pungent a smell as this? It sounds like a
               sum in the rule of three. The answer should give us the—But halloa! here are the
               accredited representatives of the law."</p>
            <p>Heavy steps and the clamour of loud voices were audible from below, and the hall door
               shut with a loud crash.</p>
            <p>“Before they come," said Holmes, “just put your hand here on this poor fellow’s arm,
               and here on his leg. What do you feel?"</p>
            <p>“The muscles are as hard as a board," I answered.</p>
            <p>“Quite so. They are in a state of extreme contraction, far exceeding the usual rigor
               mortis. Coupled with this distortion of the face, this Hippocratic smile, or ‘<ref target="risus_" corresp="risus">‘risus sardonicus,’</ref>
               <note xml:id="risus" target="risus_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">Risus
                  sardonicus, from Latin for laugh and scorn, is a spasm of the face that results in
                  a grin (OED).</note>,’ as the old writers called it, what conclusion would it
               suggest to your mind?"</p>
            <p>“Death from some powerful vegetable alkaloid," I answered,—“some strychnine-like
               substance which would produce tetanus."</p>
            <p>“That was the idea which occurred to me the instant I saw the drawn muscles of the
               face. On getting into the room I at once looked for the means by which the poison had
               entered the system. As you saw, I discovered a thorn which had been driven or shot
               with no great force into the scalp. You observe that the part struck was that which
               would be turned towards the hole in the ceiling if the man were erect in his chair.
               Now examine the thorn."</p>
            <p>I took it up gingerly and held it in the light of the lantern. It was long, sharp,
               and black, with a glazed look near the point as though some gummy substance had dried
               upon it. The blunt end had been trimmed and rounded off with a knife.</p>
            <p>“Is that an <ref target="thorn_" corresp="thorn">English thorn</ref>
                            <note xml:id="thorn" target="thorn_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">Watson is
                  here likely referring to the Hawthorne tree, which has a rich mythological and
                  ideological association with Englishness. To read more about the Hawthorne tree,
                  visit <ref target="https://treesforlife.org.uk/into-the-forest/trees-plants-animals/trees/hawthorn/">Trees for Life, a UK-based nonprofit dedicated to
               reforestation.</ref>
                            </note>?" he asked.</p>
            <p>“No, it certainly is not."</p>
            <p>“With all these data you should be able to draw some just inference. But here are the
               regulars; so the auxiliary forces may beat a retreat."</p>
            <p>As he spoke, the steps which had been coming nearer sounded loudly on the passage,
               and a very stout, portly man in a gray suit<pb n="173" facs="pageImages/173.jpg"/>
               strode heavily into the room. He was red-faced, burly and plethoric, with a pair of
               very small twinkling eyes which looked keenly out from between swollen and puffy
               pouches. He was closely followed by an inspector in uniform, and by the still
               palpitating Thaddeus Sholto.</p>
            <p>“Here’s a business!" he cried, in a muffled, husky voice. “Here’s a pretty business!
               But who are all these? Why, the house seems to be as full as a rabbit-warren!"</p>
            <p>“I think you must recollect me, Mr. Athelney Jones," said Holmes, quietly.</p>
            <p>“Why, of course I do!" he wheezed. “It’s Mr. Sherlock Holmes, the theorist. Remember
               you! I’ll never forget how you lectured us all on causes and inferences and effects
               in the Bishopgate jewel case. It’s true you set us on the right track; but you’ll own
               now that it was more by good luck than good guidance."</p>
            <p>“It was a piece of very simple reasoning."</p>
            <p>“Oh, come, now, come! Never be ashamed to own up. But what is all this? Bad business!
               Bad business! Stern facts here,—no room for theories. How lucky that I happened to be
               out at <placeName type="tgn" key="7029209">Norwood</placeName> over another case! I
               was at the station when the message arrived. What d’you think the man died of?"</p>
            <p>“Oh, this is hardly a case for me to theorise over," said Holmes, dryly.</p>
            <p>“No, no. Still, we can’t deny that you hit the nail on the head sometimes. Dear me!
               Door locked, I understand. Jewels worth half a million missing. How was the
               window?"</p>
            <p>“Fastened; but there are steps on the sill."</p>
            <p>“Well, well, if it was fastened the steps could have nothing to do with the matter.
               That’s common sense. Man might have died in a fit; but then the jewels are missing.
               Ha! I have a theory. These flashes come upon me at times.—Just step outside,
               sergeant, and you, Mr. Sholto. Your friend can remain.—What do you think of this,
               Holmes? Sholto was, on his own confession, with his brother last night. The brother
               died in a fit, on which Sholto walked off with the treasure. How’s that?"</p>
            <p>“On which the dead man very considerately got up and locked the door on the
               inside."</p>
            <p>“Hum! There’s a flaw there. Let us apply common sense to the matter. This Thaddeus
               Sholto was with his brother; there was a quarrel; so much we know. The brother is
               dead and the jewels are gone. So much also we know. No one saw the brother from the
               time Thaddeus left him. His bed had not been slept in. Thaddeus is evidently in a
               most disturbed state of mind. His appearance is—well, not attractive. You see that I
               am weaving my web round Thaddeus. The net begins to close upon him."</p>
            <p>“You are not quite in possession of the facts yet," said Holmes. “This splinter of
               wood, which I have every reason to believe to be poisoned, was in the man’s scalp
               where you still see the mark; this card, inscribed as you see it, was on the table;
               and beside it lay this rather curious stone-headed instrument. How does all that fit
               into your theory?"</p>
            <pb n="175" facs="pageImages/175.jpg"/>
            <p>“Confirms it in every respect," said the fat detective, pompously. “House is full of
               Indian curiosities. Thaddeus brought this up, and if this splinter be poisonous
               Thaddeus may as well have made murderous use of it as any other man. The card is some
               hocus-pocus,—a blind, as like as not. The only question is, how did he depart? Ah, of
               course, here is a hole in the roof." With great activity, considering his bulk, he
               sprang up the steps and squeezed through into the garret, and immediately afterwards
               we heard his exulting voice proclaiming that he had found the trap-door.</p>
            <p>“He can find something," remarked Holmes, shrugging his shoulders. “He has occasional
               glimmerings of reason. Il n’y a pas des sots si incommodes que ceux qui ont de
               l’esprit!"</p>
            <p>“You see!" said Athelney Jones, reappearing down the steps again. “Facts are better
               than mere theories, after all. My view of the case is confirmed. There is a trap-door
               communicating with the roof, and it is partly open."</p>
            <p>“It was I who opened it."</p>
            <p>“Oh, indeed! You did notice it, then?" He seemed a little crestfallen at the
               discovery. “Well, whoever noticed it, it shows how our gentleman got away.
               Inspector!"</p>
            <p>“Yes, sir," from the passage.</p>
            <p>“Ask Mr. Sholto to step this way.—Mr. Sholto, it is my duty to inform you that
               anything which you may say will be used against you. I arrest you in the Queen’s name
               as being concerned in the death of your brother."</p>
            <p>“There, now! Didn’t I tell you!" cried the poor little man, throwing out his hands,
               and looking from one to the other of us.</p>
            <p>“Don’t trouble yourself about it, Mr. Sholto," said Holmes. “I think that I can
               engage to clear you of the charge."</p>
            <p>“Don’t promise too much, Mr. Theorist,—don’t promise too much!" snapped the
               detective. “You may find it a harder matter than you think."</p>
            <p>“Not only will I clear him, Mr. Jones, but I will make you a free present of the name
               and description of one of the two people who were in this room last night. His name,
               I have every reason to believe, is Jonathan Small. He is a poorly-educated man,
               small, active, with his right leg off, and wearing a wooden stump which is worn away
               upon the inner side. His left boot has a coarse, square-toed sole, with an iron band
               round the heel. He is a middle-aged man, much sunburned, and has been a convict.
               These few indications may be of some assistance to you, coupled with the fact that
               there is a good deal of skin missing from the palm of his hand. The other man—"</p>
            <p>“Ah! the other man—?" asked Athelney Jones, in a sneering voice, but impressed none
               the less, as I could easily see, by the precision of the other’s manner.</p>
            <p>“Is a rather curious person," said Sherlock Holmes, turning upon his heel. “I hope
               before very long to be able to introduce you to the pair of them.—A word with you,
               Watson."</p>
            <p>He led me out to the head of the stair. “This unexpected occurrence," <pb n="176 [Break after occur-]" facs="pageImages/176.jpg"/>he said, “has caused us
               rather to lose sight of the original purpose of our journey."</p>
            <p>“I have just been thinking so," I answered. “It is not right that Miss should remain
               in this stricken house."</p>
            <p>“No. You must escort her home. She lives with Mrs. Cecil Forrester, in Lower
               Camberwell: so it is not very far. I will wait for you here if you will drive out
               again. Or perhaps you are too tired?"</p>
            <p>“By no means. I don’t think I could rest until I know more of this fantastic
               business. I have seen something of the rough side of life, but I give you my word
               that this quick succession of strange surprises to-night has shaken my nerve
               completely. I should like, however, to see the matter through with you, now that I
               have got so far."</p>
            <p>“Your presence will be of great service to me," he answered. “We shall work the case
               out independently, and leave this fellow Jones to exult over any mare’s-nest which he
               may choose to construct. When you have dropped Miss I wish you to go on to No. 3,
               Pinchin Lane, down near the water’s edge at Lambeth. The third house on the
               right-hand side is a bird-stuffer’s: Sherman is the name. You will see a weasel
               holding a young rabbit in the window. Knock old Sherman up, and tell him, with my
               compliments, that I want Toby at once. You will bring Toby back in the cab with
               you."</p>
            <p>“A dog, I suppose."</p>
            <p>“Yes,—a queer mongrel, with a most amazing power of scent. I would rather have Toby’s
               help than that of the whole detective force of <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName>."</p>
            <p>“I shall bring him, then," said I. “It is one now. I ought to be back before three,
               if I can get a fresh horse."</p>
            <p>“And I," said Holmes, “shall see what I can learn from Mrs. Bernstone, and from the
               Indian servant, who, Mr. Thaddeus tell me, sleeps in the next garret. Then I shall
               study the great Jones’s methods and listen to his not too delicate sarcasms. <ref target="faust-quote_" corresp="faust-quote">‘Wir sind gewohnt das die Menschen
                  verhöhnen was sie nicht verstehen.’</ref>
               <note xml:id="faust-quote" target="faust-quote_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">This is a direct quote from Goethe's Faust (part 1, scene 3,
                  line 1200), which translates to "We're used to people scoffing at what they don't
                  understand." Goethe was a German polymath who became representative of the
                  Romantic period on the European continent. His most famous work, Faust, is a two
                  part verse drama published in the early 19th century about a magician who makes a
                  deal with the devil Mephistopholes to acquire knowledge and power. If you'd like
                  to read Faust, you can do so on <ref target="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/2229/2229-h/2229-h.htm">Project
                     Gutenberg</ref>.To read more about Goethe and his play, Faust, see <ref target="https://www.britannica.com/biography/Johann-Wolfgang-von-Goethe">Encyclopedia Britannica.</ref>.</note> Goethe is always pithy."</p>
         </div>
         <div>
            <head>CHAPTER VII.</head>
            <head type="sub">THE EPISODE OF THE BARREL.</head>
            <p>The police had brought a cab with them, and in this I escorted Miss back to her home.
               After the angelic fashion of women, she had borne trouble with a calm face as long as
               there was some one weaker than herself to support, and I had found her bright and
               placid by the side of the frightened housekeeper. In the cab, however, she first
               turned faint, and then burst into a passion of weeping,—so sorely had she been tried
               by the adventures of the night. She has told me since that she thought me cold and
               distant upon that journey. She little guessed the struggle within my breast, or the
               effort of self-restraint which held me back. My sympathies and my love went out to
               her, even as my hand had in the garden. I felt that years of the conventionalities<pb n="177 [Break after conven-]" facs="pageImages/177.jpg"/> of life could not teach
               me to know her sweet, brave nature as had this one day of strange experiences. Yet
               there were two thoughts which sealed the words of affection upon my lips. She was
               weak and helpless, shaken in mind and nerve. It was to take her at a disadvantage to
               obtrude love upon her at such a time. Worse still, she was rich. If Holmes’s
               researches were successful, she would be an heiress. Was it fair, was it honourable,
               that a half-pay surgeon should take such advantage of an intimacy which chance had
               brought about? Might she not look upon me as a mere vulgar fortune-seeker? I could
               not bear to risk that such a thought should cross her mind. This Agra treasure
               intervened like an impassable barrier between us.</p>
            <p>It was nearly two o’clock when we reached Mrs. Cecil Forrester’s. The servants had
               retired hours ago, but Mrs. Forrester had been so interested by the strange message
               which Miss had received that she had sat up in the hope of her return. She opened the
               door herself, a middle-aged, graceful woman, and it gave me joy to see how tenderly
               her arm stole round the other’s waist and how motherly was the voice in which she
               greeted her. She was clearly no mere paid dependant, but an honoured friend. I was
               introduced, and Mrs. Forrester earnestly begged me to step in and tell her our
               adventures. I explained, however, the importance of my errand, and promised
               faithfully to call and report any progress which we might make with the case. As we
               drove away I stole a glance back, and I still seem to see that little group on the
               step, the two graceful, clinging figures, the half-opened door, the hall-light
               shining through stained glass, the barometer, and the bright stair-rods. It was
               soothing to catch even that passing glimpse of a tranquil English home in the midst
               of the wild, dark business which had absorbed us.</p>
            <p>And the more I thought of what had happened, the wilder and darker it grew. I
               reviewed the whole extraordinary sequence of events as I rattled on through the
               silent gas-lit streets. There was the original problem: that at least was pretty
               clear now. The death of Captain , the sending of the pearls, the advertisement, the
               letter,—we had had light upon all those events. They had only led us, however, to a
               deeper and far more tragic mystery. The Indian treasure, the curious plan found among
               ’s baggage, the strange scene at Major Sholto’s death, the rediscovery of the
               treasure immediately followed by the murder of the discoverer, the very singular
               accompaniments to the crime, the footsteps, the remarkable weapons, the words upon
               the card, corresponding with those upon Captain ’s chart,—here was indeed a labyrinth
               in which a man less singularly endowed than my fellow-lodger might well despair of
               ever finding the clue.</p>
            <p>Pinchin Lane was a row of shabby two-storied brick houses in the lower quarter of
               <placeName type="tgn" key="7011842">Lambeth</placeName>. I had to knock for some time at No. 3 before I could make my impression. At
               last, however, there was the glint of a candle behind the blind, and a face looked
               out at the upper window.</p>
            <p>“Go on, you drunken <ref target="vagabone_" corresp="vagabone">vagabone</ref>
               <note xml:id="vagabone" target="vagabone_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A
                  vagabone (also spelled vagabond), is a person without a job or home who wanders
                  from place to place. (OED)</note>," said the face. “If you kick up any more row
               I’ll open the kennels and let out forty-three dogs upon you."</p>
            <pb n="178" facs="pageImages/178.jpg"/>
            <p>“If you’ll let one out it’s just what I have come for," said I.</p>
            <p>“Go on!" yelled the voice. “So help me gracious, I have a wiper in the bag, an’ I’ll
               drop it on your ’ead if you don’t hook it."</p>
            <p>“But I want a dog," I cried.</p>
            <p>“I won’t be argued with!" shouted Mr. Sherman. “Now stand clear, for when I say
               ‘three,’ down goes the wiper."</p>
            <p>“Mr. Sherlock Holmes—" I began, but the words had a most magical effect, for the
               window instantly slammed down, and within a minute the door was unbarred and open.
               Mr. Sherman was a lanky, lean old man, with stooping shoulders, a stringy neck, and
               blue-tinted glasses.</p>
            <p>“A friend of Mr. Sherlock is always welcome," said he. “Step in, sir. Keep clear of
               the badger; for he bites. Ah, naughty, naughty, would you take a nip at the
               gentleman?" This to a stoat which thrust its wicked head and red eyes between the
               bars of its cage. “Don’t mind that, sir: it’s only a slow-worm. It hain’t got no
               fangs, so I gives it the run o’ the room, for it keeps the beetles down. You must not
               mind my bein’ just a little short wi’ you at first, for I’m guyed at by the children,
               and there’s many a one just comes down this lane to knock me up. What was it that Mr.
               Sherlock Holmes wanted, sir?"</p>
            <p>“He wanted a dog of yours."</p>
            <p>“Ah! that would be Toby."</p>
            <p>“Yes, Toby was the name."</p>
            <p>“Toby lives at No. 7 on the left here." He moved slowly forward with his candle among
               the queer animal family which he had gathered round him. In the uncertain, shadowy
               light I could see dimly that there were glancing, glimmering eyes peeping down at us
               from every cranny and corner. Even the rafters above our heads were lined by solemn
               fowls, who lazily shifted their weight from one leg to the other as our voices
               disturbed their slumbers.</p>
            <p>Toby proved to be an ugly, long-haired, lop-eared creature, half spaniel and half
                  <ref target="lurcher_" corresp="lurcher">lurcher</ref>
               <note xml:id="lurcher" target="lurcher_" resp="editors.xml#GG" type="gloss">
                                <graphic url="notes/lurcher.jpeg" source="https://www.dogbreedinfo.com/images14/Lurchergreyhoundsalukibeardedcollieuntitled.jpg" alt="a photograph of a 4-year-old lurcher dog" desc="A 4-year-old lurcher (Dog Breed Info)"/>A lurcher is a type of dog breed of half greyhound
                  and half sighthound (terrier or herding dog). Lurchers were bred in England for
                  hunting game. To learn more about these dogs, check out <ref target="https://www.dogbreedinfo.com/lurcher.htm">Dog Breed Info</ref>. This
                  photo from <ref target="https://www.dogbreedinfo.com/images14/Lurchergreyhoundsalukibeardedcollieuntitled.jpg">Dog Breed Info</ref>, shows a 4 year old Lurcher. Note that Toby is
                  half-spaniel and half-lurcher.</note>, brown-and-white in colour, with a very
               clumsy waddling gait. It accepted after some hesitation a lump of sugar which the old
               naturalist handed to me, and, having thus sealed an alliance, it followed me to the
               cab, and made no difficulties about accompanying me. It had just struck three on the
               Palace clock when I found myself back once more at Pondicherry Lodge. The
               ex-prize-fighter McMurdo had, I found, been arrested as an accessory, and both he and
               Mr. Sholto had been marched off to the station. Two constables guarded the narrow
               gate, but they allowed me to pass with the dog on my mentioning the detective’s
               name.</p>
            <p>Holmes was standing on the door-step, with his hands in his pockets, smoking his
               pipe.</p>
            <p>“Ah, you have him there!" said he. “Good dog, then! Atheney Jones has gone. We have
               had an immense display of energy since you left. He has arrested not only friend
               Thaddeus, but the gatekeeper, the housekeeper, and the Indian servant. We have the
               place to ourselves, but for a sergeant upstairs. Leave the dog here, and come
               up."</p>
            <p>We tied Toby to the hall table, and re-ascended the stairs. The room was as he had
               left it, save that a sheet had been draped over<pb n="179" facs="pageImages/179.jpg"/> the central figure. A weary-looking police-sergeant reclined in the corner.</p>
            <p>“Lend me your bull’s-eye, sergeant," said my companion. “Now tie this bit of card
               round my neck, so as to hang it in front of me. Thank you. Now I must kick off my
               boots and stockings.—Just you carry them down with you, Watson. I am going to do a
               little climbing. And dip my handkerchief into the creasote. That will do. Now come up
               into the garret with me for a moment."</p>
            <p>We clambered up through the hole. Holmes turned his light once more upon the
               footsteps in the dust.</p>
            <p>“I wish you particularly to notice these footmarks," he said. “Do you observe
               anything noteworthy about them?"</p>
            <p>“They belong," I said, “to a child or a small woman."</p>
            <p>“Apart from their size, though. Is there nothing else?"</p>
            <p>“They appear to be much as other footmarks."</p>
            <p>“Not at all. Look here! This is the print of a right foot in the dust. Now I make one
               with my naked foot beside it. What is the chief difference?"</p>
            <p>“Your toes are all cramped together. The other print has each toe distinctly
               divided."</p>
            <p>“Quite so. That is the point. Bear that in mind. Now, would you kindly step over to
               that flap-window and smell the edge of the wood-work? I shall stay here, as I have
               this handkerchief in my hand."</p>
            <p>I did as he directed, and was instantly conscious of a strong tarry smell.</p>
            <p>“That is where he put his foot in getting out. If you can trace him, I should think
               that Toby will have no difficulty. Now run downstairs, loose the dog, and look out
               for Blondin."</p>
            <p>By the time that I got out into the grounds Sherlock Holmes was on the roof, and I
               could see him like an enormous glow-worm crawling very slowly along the ridge. I lost
               sight of him behind a stack of chimneys, but he presently reappeared, and then
               vanished once more upon the opposite side. When I made my way round there I found him
               seated at one of the corner eaves.</p>
            <p>“That you, Watson?" he cried.</p>
            <p>“Yes."</p>
            <p>“This is the place. What is that black thing down there?"</p>
            <p>“A water-barrel."</p>
            <p>“Top on it?"</p>
            <p>“Yes."</p>
            <p>“No sign of a ladder?"</p>
            <p>“No."</p>
            <p>“Confound the fellow! It’s a most break-neck place. I ought to be able to come down
               where he could climb up. The water-pipe feels pretty firm. Here goes, anyhow."</p>
            <p>There was a scuffling of feet, and the lantern began to come steadily down the side
               of the wall. Then with a light spring he came on to the barrel, and from there to the
               earth.</p>
            <p>“It was easy to follow him," he said, drawing on his stockings and<pb n="180" facs="pageImages/180.jpg"/> boots. “Tiles were loosened the whole way along, and
               in his hurry he had dropped this. It confirms my diagnosis, as you doctors express
               it."</p>
            <p>The object which he held up to me was a small pocket or pouch woven out of coloured
               grasses and with a few tawdry beads strung round it. In shape and size it was not
               unlike a cigarette-case. Inside were half a dozen spines of dark wood, sharp at one
               end and rounded at the other, like that which had struck Bartholomew Sholto.</p>
            <p>“They are hellish things," said he. “Look out that you don’t prick yourself. I’m
               delighted to have them, for the chances are that they are all he has. There is the
               less fear of you or me finding one in our skin before long. I would sooner face a
                  <ref target="martini-bullet_" corresp="martini-bullet">Martini bullet</ref>
               <note xml:id="martini-bullet" target="martini-bullet_" resp="editors.xml#GG" type="gloss">
                                <graphic url="notes/martini-bullet.jpg" source="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/9/99/Snider-Martini-Enfield_Cartridges.JPG/300px-Snider-Martini-Enfield_Cartridges.JPG" alt="a photograph of Martini-Enfield brass bullets" desc="Martini-Enfield cartridges (Wikimedia Commons)"/>A Martini bullet was a black
                  powder round bullet used by the British army in the 19th century. This image, <ref target="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/9/99/Snider-Martini-Enfield_Cartridges.JPG/300px-Snider-Martini-Enfield_Cartridges.JPG">from Wikimedia Commons</ref>, shows Martini-Enfield brass bullets.</note>, myself. Are
               you game for a six-mile trudge, Watson?"</p>
            <p>“Certainly," I answered.</p>
            <p>“Your leg will stand it?"</p>
            <p>“Oh, yes."</p>
            <p>“Here you are, doggy! Good old Toby! Smell it, Toby, smell it!" He pushed the
               creasote handkerchief under the dog’s nose, while the creature stood with its fluffy
               legs separated, and with a most comical cock to its head, like a connoisseur sniffing
               the bouquet of a famous vintage. Holmes then threw the handkerchief to a distance,
               fastened a stout cord to the mongrel’s collar, and led him to the foot of the
               water-barrel. The creature instantly broke into a succession of high, tremulous
               yelps, and, with his nose on the ground, and his tail in the air, pattered off upon
               the trail at a pace which strained his leash and kept us at the top of our speed.</p>
            <p>The east had been gradually whitening, and we could now see some distance in the cold
               grey light. The square, massive house, with its black, empty windows and high, bare
               walls, towered up, sad and forlorn, behind us. Our course led right across the
               grounds, in and out among the trenches and pits with which they were scarred and
               intersected. The whole place, with its scattered dirt-heaps and ill-grown shrubs, had
               a blighted, ill-omened look which harmonized with the black tragedy which hung over
               it.</p>
            <p>On reaching the boundary wall Toby ran along, whining eagerly, underneath its shadow,
               and stopped finally in a corner screened by a young beech. Where the two walls
               joined, several bricks had been loosened, and the crevices left were worn down and
               rounded upon the lower side, as though they had frequently been used as a ladder.
               Holmes clambered up, and, taking the dog from me, he dropped it over upon the other
               side.</p>
            <p>“There’s the print of wooden-leg’s hand," he remarked, as I mounted up beside him.
               “You see the slight smudge of blood upon the white plaster. What a lucky thing it is
               that we have had no very heavy rain since yesterday! The scent will lie upon the road
               in spite of their eight-and-twenty hours’ start."</p>
            <p>I confess that I had my doubts myself when I reflected upon the great traffic which
               had passed along the <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName> road in
               the interval. My fears were soon appeased, however. Toby never hesitated or swerved,
               but waddled on in his peculiar rolling fashion. Clearly, the pungent smell of the
               creasote rose high above all other contending scents.</p>
            <pb n="181" facs="pageImages/181.jpg"/>
            <p>“Do not imagine," said Holmes, “that I depend for my success in this case upon the
               mere chance of one of these fellows having put his foot in the chemical. I have
               knowledge now which would enable me to trace them in many different ways. This,
               however, is the readiest and, since fortune has put it into our hands, I should be
               culpable if I neglected it. It has, however, prevented the case from becoming the
               pretty little intellectual problem which it at one time promised to be. There might
               have been some credit to be gained out of it, but for this too palpable clue."</p>
            <p>“There is credit, and to spare," said I. “I assure you, Holmes, that I marvel at the
               means by which you obtain your results in this case, even more than I did in the
               Jefferson Hope Murder. The thing seems to me to be deeper and more inexplicable. How,
               for example, could you describe with such confidence the wooden-legged man?"</p>
            <p>“Pshaw, my dear boy! it was simplicity itself. I don’t wish to be theatrical. It is
               all patent and above-board. Two officers who are in command of a convict-guard learn
               an important secret as to buried treasure. A map is drawn for them by an Englishman
               named Jonathan Small. You remember that we saw the name upon the chart in Captain ’s
               possession. He had signed it in behalf of himself and his associates,—the sign of the
               four, as he somewhat dramatically called it. Aided by this chart, the officers—or one
               of them—gets the treasure and brings it to <placeName type="tgn" key="7002445"> England</placeName>, leaving, we will suppose, some
               condition under which he received it unfulfilled. Now, then, why did not Jonathan
               Small get the treasure himself? The answer is obvious. The chart is dated at a time
               when was brought into close association with convicts. Jonathan Small did not get the
               treasure because he and his associates were themselves convicts and could not get
               away."</p>
            <p>“But that is mere speculation," said I.</p>
            <p>“It is more than that. It is the only hypothesis which covers the facts. Let us see
               how it fits in with the sequel. Major Sholto remains at peace for some years, happy
               in the possession of his treasure. Then he receives a letter from <placeName type="tgn" key="7000198"> India</placeName> which gives
               him a great fright. What was that?"</p>
            <p>“A letter to say that the men whom he had wronged had been set free."</p>
            <p>“Or had escaped. That is much more likely, for he would have known what their term of
               imprisonment was. It would not have been a surprise to him. What does he do then? He
               guards himself against a wooden-legged man,—a white man, mark you, for he mistakes a
               white tradesman for him, and actually fires a pistol at him. Now, only one white
               man’s name is on the chart. The others are Hindoos or Mohammedans. There is no other
               white man. Therefore we may say with confidence that the wooden-legged man is
               identical with Jonathan Small. Does the reasoning strike you as being faulty?"</p>
            <p>“No: it is clear and concise."</p>
            <p>“Well, now, let us put ourselves in the place of Jonathan Small. Let us look at it
               from his point of view. He comes to <placeName type="tgn" key="7002445"> England</placeName> with the double idea of regaining what he
               would consider to be his rights and of having his revenge upon the man who had
               wronged him. He found<pb n="182" facs="pageImages/182.jpg"/> out where Sholto lived,
               and very possibly he established communications with some one inside the house. There
               is this butler, Lal Rao, whom we have not seen. Mrs. Bernstone gives him far from a
               good character. Small could not find out, however, where the treasure was hid, for no
               one ever knew, save the major and one faithful servant who had died. Suddenly Small
               learns that the major is on his death-bed. In a frenzy lest the secret of the
               treasure die with him, he runs the gauntlet of the guards, makes his way to the dying
               man’s window, and is only deterred from entering by the presence of his two sons. Mad
               with hate, however, against the dead man, he enters the room that night, searches his
               private papers in the hope of discovering some memorandum relating to the treasure,
               and finally leaves a momento of his visit in the short inscription upon the card. He
               had doubtless planned beforehand that should he slay the major he would leave some
               such record upon the body as a sign that it was not a common murder, but, from the
               point of view of the four associates, something in the nature of an act of justice.
               Whimsical and bizarre conceits of this kind are common enough in the annals of crime,
               and usually afford valuable indications as to the criminal. Do you follow all
               this?"</p>
            <p>“Very clearly."</p>
            <p>“Now, what could Jonathan Small do? He could only continue to keep a secret watch
               upon the efforts made to find the treasure. Possibly he leaves <placeName type="tgn" key="7002445">England</placeName> and only comes
               back at intervals. Then comes the discovery of the garret, and he is instantly
               informed of it. We again trace the presence of some confederate in the household.
               Jonathan, with his wooden leg, is utterly unable to reach the lofty room of
               Bartholomew Sholto. He takes with him, however, a rather curious associate, who gets
               over this difficulty, but dips his naked foot into creasote, whence comes Toby, and a
               six-mile limp for a half-pay officer with a damaged tendo Achillis."</p>
            <p>“But it was the associate, and not Jonathan, who committed the crime."</p>
            <p>“Quite so. And rather to Jonathan’s disgust, to judge by the way he stamped about
               when he got into the room. He bore no grudge against Bartholomew Sholto, and would
               have preferred if he could have been simply bound and gagged. He did not wish to put
               his head in a halter. There was no help for it, however: the savage instincts of his
               companion had broken out, and the poison had done its work: so Jonathan Small left
               his record, lowered the treasure-box to the ground, and followed it himself. That was
               the train of events as far as I can decipher them. Of course as to his personal
               appearance he must be middle-aged, and must be sunburned after serving his time in
               such an oven as the Andamans. His height is readily calculated from the length of his
               stride, and we know that he was bearded. His hairiness was the one point which
               impressed itself upon Thaddeus Sholto when he saw him at the window. I don’t know
               that there is anything else."</p>
            <p>“The associate?"</p>
            <p>“Ah, well, there is no great mystery in that. But you will know all about it soon
               enough. How sweet the morning air is! See how<pb n="183" facs="pageImages/183.jpg"/>
               that one little cloud floats like a pink feather from some gigantic flamingo. Now the
               red rim of the sun pushes itself over the <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName> cloud-bank. It shines on a good many folk, but on none, I dare
               bet, who are on a stranger errand than you and I. How small we feel with our petty
               ambitions and strivings in the presence of the great elemental forces of nature! Are
               you well up in your <ref target="jeanpaul_" corresp="jeanpaul">Jean Paul</ref>
               <note xml:id="jeanpaul" target="jeanpaul_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">Jean
                  Paul, pen name of Johann Paul Friedrich Richter, was a 19th century German writer
                  who popularized the shift to Romanticism in literature. Read more about Jean Paul
                  on <ref target="https://www.britannica.com/biography/Jean-Paul)">Britannica</ref>.</note>?"</p>
            <p>“Fairly so. I worked back to him through <ref target="carlyle_" corresp="carlyle">Carlyle</ref>
                            <note xml:id="carlyle" target="carlyle_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">Thomas Carlyle was a Scottish writer, well-known for <hi rend="italic">Sartor Resartus</hi>, a novel that explores his concept of
                  "Natural Supernaturalism." He was among the first to make German literature
                  available for English readers, often through translations, which is what Watson
                  means here when he says he came to Jean Paul by way of Carlyle. To read more about
                  Carlyle, role in the " , </note>."</p>
            <p>“That was like following the brook to the parent lake. He makes one curious but
               profound remark. It is that the chief proof of man’s real greatness lies in his
               perception of his own smallness. It argues, you see, a power of comparison and of
               appreciation which is in itself a proof of nobility. There is much food for thought
               in Richter. You have not a pistol, have you?"</p>
            <p>“I have my stick."</p>
            <p>“It is just possible that we may need something of the sort if we get to their lair.
               Jonathan I shall leave to you, but if the other turns nasty I shall shoot him dead."
               He took out his revolver as he spoke, and, having loaded two of the chambers, he put
               it back into the right-hand pocket of his jacket.</p>
            <p>We had during this time been following the guidance of Toby down the half-rural
               villa-lined roads which lead to the metropolis. Now, however, we were beginning to
               come among continuous streets, where labourers and dockmen were already astir, and
               slatternly women were taking down shutters and brushing door-steps. At the
               square-topped corner public houses business was just beginning, and rough-looking men
               were emerging, rubbing their sleeves across their beards after their morning wet.
               Strange dogs sauntered up and stared wonderingly at us as we passed, but our
               inimitable Toby looked neither to the right nor to the left, but trotted onwards with
               his nose to the ground and an occasional eager whine which spoke of a hot scent.</p>
            <p>We had traversed <placeName type="tgn" key="1005668">Streatham</placeName>, <placeName type="tgn" key="7466913">Brixton</placeName>,<placeName type="tgn" key="7011830"> Camberwell</placeName>, and now found ourselves in
               Kennington Lane, having borne away through the side-streets to the east of <ref target="theoval_" corresp="theoval">the Oval</ref>
               <note xml:id="theoval" target="theoval_" resp="editors.xml#GG" type="gloss">
                                <graphic url="notes/the-oval-1891.jpg" source="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/bb/Cricket%2C_WG_Grace%2C_1891-_Kennington_Oval.jpg/1920px-Cricket%2C_WG_Grace%2C_1891-_Kennington_Oval.jpg" alt="The Oval, depicted in 1891" desc="The Oval, 1891 (Wikimedia Commons)"/>The Oval is an international cricket ground in
                  Kensington, South London. It also hosted a number of historical sporting events.
                  To read more, see <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Oval">Wikipedia</ref>. This image, <ref target="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/bb/Cricket%2C_WG_Grace%2C_1891-_Kennington_Oval.jpg/1920px-Cricket%2C_WG_Grace%2C_1891-_Kennington_Oval.jpg">from Wikimedia Commons</ref>, depicts the Oval in 1891. </note>. The men whom
               we pursued seemed to have taken a curiously zigzag road, with the idea probably of
               escaping observation. They had never kept to the main road if a parallel side-street
               would serve their turn. At the foot of Kennington Lane they had edged away to the
               left through Bond Street and Miles Street. Where the latter street turns into
               Knight’s Place, Toby ceased to advance, but began to run backwards and forwards with
               one ear cocked and the other drooping, the very picture of canine indecision. Then he
               waddled round in circles, looking up to us from time to time, as if to ask for
               sympathy in his embarrassment.</p>
            <p>“What the deuce is the matter with the dog?" growled Holmes. “They surely would not
               take a cab, or go off in a balloon."</p>
            <p>“Perhaps they stood here for some time," I suggested.</p>
            <p>“Ah! it’s all right. He’s off again," said my companion, in a tone of relief.</p>
            <p>He was indeed off, for after sniffing round again he suddenly made up his mind, and
               darted away with an energy and determination such as he had not yet shown. The scent
               appeared to be much hotter than<pb n="184" facs="pageImages/184.jpg"/> before, for he
               had not even to put his nose on the ground, but tugged at his leash and tried to
               break into a run. I could see by the gleam in Holmes’s eyes that he thought we were
               nearing the end of our journey.</p>
            <p>Our course now ran down Nine Elms until we came to Broderick and Nelson’s large
               timber-yard, just past the White Eagle tavern. Here the dog, frantic with excitement,
               turned down through the side-gate into the enclosure, where the sawyers were already
               at work. On the dog raced through sawdust and shavings, down an alley, round a
               passage, between two wood-piles, and finally, with a triumphant yelp, sprang upon a
               large barrel which still stood upon the hand-trolley on which it had been brought.
               With lolling tongue and blinking eyes, Toby stood upon the cask, looking from one to
               the other of us for some sign of appreciation. The staves of the barrel and the
               wheels of the trolley were smeared with a dark liquid, and the whole air was heavy
               with the smell of creasote.</p>
            <p>Sherlock Holmes and I looked blankly at each other, and then burst simultaneously
               into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.</p>
         </div>
         <div>
            <head>CHAPTER VIII.</head>
            <head type="sub">THE BAKER STREET IRREGULARS.</head>
            <p>“What now?" I asked. “Toby has lost his character for infallibility."</p>
            <p>“He acted according to his lights," said Holmes, lifting him down from the barrel and
               walking him out of the timber-yard. “If you consider how much creasote is carted
               about <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName> in one day, it is no
               great wonder that our trail should have been crossed. It is much used now, especially
               for the seasoning of wood. Poor Toby is not to blame."</p>
            <p>“We must get on the main scent again, I suppose."</p>
            <p>“Yes. And, fortunately, we have no distance to go. Evidently what puzzled the dog at
               the corner of Knight’s Place was that there were two different trails running in
               opposite directions. We took the wrong one. It only remains to follow the other."</p>
            <p>There was no difficulty about this. On leading Toby to the place where he had
               committed his fault, he cast about in a wide circle and finally dashed off in a fresh
               direction.</p>
            <p>“We must take care that he does not now bring us to the place where the
               creasote-barrel came from," I observed.</p>
            <p>“I had thought of that. But you notice that he keeps on the pavement, whereas the
               barrel passed down the roadway. No, we are on the true scent now."</p>
            <p>It tended down towards the river-side, running through Belmont Place and Prince’s
               Street. At the end of Broad Street it ran right down to the water’s edge, where there
               was a small wooden <ref target="wharf_" corresp="wharf">wharf</ref>
               <note xml:id="wharf" target="wharf_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A wharf is a
                  small structure built along the water so ships can load and unload (OED).</note>.
               Toby led us to the very edge of this, and there stood whining, looking out on the
               dark current beyond.</p>
            <p>“We are out of luck," said Holmes. “They have taken to a boat<pb n="185" facs="pageImages/185.jpg"/> here." Several small punts and skiffs were lying about
               in the water and on the edge of the wharf. We took Toby round to each in turn, but,
               though he sniffed earnestly, he made no sign.</p>
            <p>Close to the rude landing-stage was a small brick house, with a wooden placard slung
               out through the second window. “Mordecai Smith" was printed across it in large
               letters, and, underneath, “Boats to hire by the hour or day." A second inscription
               above the door informed us that a <ref target="steam-launch_" corresp="steam-launch">steam launch</ref>
               <note xml:id="steam-launch" target="steam-launch_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A steam launch is a large boat propelled by steam to transport passengers.
                  (OED)</note> was kept,—a statement which was confirmed by a great pile of coke
               upon the jetty. Sherlock Holmes looked slowly round, and his face assumed an ominous
               expression.</p>
            <p>“This looks bad," said he. “These fellows are sharper than I expected. They seem to
               have covered their tracks. There has, I fear, been preconcerted management here."</p>
            <p>He was approaching the door of the house, when it opened, and a little, curly-headed
               lad of six came running out, followed by a stoutish, red-faced woman with a large
               sponge in her hand.</p>
            <p>“You come back and be washed, Jack," she shouted. “Come back, you young imp; for if
               your father comes home and finds you like that, he’ll let us hear of it."</p>
            <p>“Dear little chap!" said Holmes, strategically. “What a rosy-cheeked young rascal!
               Now, Jack, is there anything you would like?"</p>
            <p>The youth pondered for a moment. “I’d like a shillin’," said he.</p>
            <p>“Nothing you would like better?"</p>
            <p>“I’d like two shillin’ better," the prodigy answered, after some thought.</p>
            <p>“Here you are, then! Catch!—A fine child, Mrs. Smith!"</p>
            <p>“Lor’ bless you, sir, he is that, and forward. He gets a’most too much for me to
               manage, ’specially when my man is away days at a time."</p>
            <p>“Away, is he?" said Holmes, in a disappointed voice. “I am sorry for that, for I
               wanted to speak to Mr. Smith."</p>
            <p>“He’s been away since yesterday mornin’, sir, and, truth to tell, I am beginnin’ to
               feel frightened about him. But if it was about a boat, sir, maybe I could serve as
               well."</p>
            <p>“I wanted to hire his steam launch."</p>
            <p>“Why, bless you, sir, it is in the steam launch that he has gone. That’s what puzzles
               me; for I know there ain’t more coals in her than would take her to about<placeName type="tgn" key="7011805"> Woolwich</placeName>
               and back. If he’d been away in the barge I’d ha’ thought nothin’; for many a time a
               job has taken him as far as <placeName type="tgn" key="7011614">Gravesend</placeName>, and then if there was much doin’ there he
               might ha’ stayed over. But what good is a steam launch without coals?"</p>
            <p>“He might have bought some at a wharf down the river."</p>
            <p>“He might, sir, but it weren’t his way. Many a time I’ve heard him call out at the
               prices they charge for a few odd bags. Besides, I don’t like that wooden-legged man,
               wi’ his ugly face and outlandish talk. What did he want always knockin’ about here
               for?"</p>
            <p>“A wooden-legged man?" said Holmes, with bland surprise.</p>
            <p>“Yes, sir, a brown, monkey-faced chap that’s called more’n once for my old man. It
               was him that roused him up yesternight, and, what’s<pb n="186" facs="pageImages/186.jpg"/> more, my man knew he was comin’, for he had steam up
               in the launch. I tell you straight, sir, I don’t feel easy in my mind about it."</p>
            <p>“But, my dear Mrs. Smith," said Holmes, shrugging his shoulders, “You are frightening
               yourself about nothing. How could you possibly tell that it was the wooden-legged man
               who came in the night? I don’t quite understand how you can be so sure."</p>
            <p>“His voice, sir. I knew his voice, which is kind o’ thick and foggy. He tapped at the
               winder,—about three it would be. ‘Show a leg, matey,’ says he: ‘time to turn out
               guard.’ My old man woke up Jim,—that’s my eldest,—and away they went, without so much
               as a word to me. I could hear the wooden leg clackin’ on the stones."</p>
            <p>“And was this wooden-legged man alone?"</p>
            <p>“Couldn’t say, I am sure, sir. I didn’t hear no one else."</p>
            <p>“I am sorry, Mrs. Smith, for I wanted a steam launch, and I have heard good reports
               of the—Let me see, what is her name?"</p>
            <p>“The Aurora, sir."</p>
            <p>“Ah! She’s not that old green launch with a yellow line, very broad in the beam?"</p>
            <p>“No, indeed. She’s as trim a little thing as any on the river. She’s been fresh
               painted, black with two red streaks."</p>
            <p>“Thanks. I hope that you will hear soon from Mr. Smith. I am going down the river;
               and if I should see anything of the Aurora I shall let him know that you are uneasy.
               A black funnel, you say?"</p>
            <p>“No, sir. Black with a white band."</p>
            <p>“Ah, of course. It was the sides which were black. Good-morning, Mrs. Smith.—There is
               a boatman here with a wherry, Watson. We shall take it and cross the river.</p>
            <p>“The main thing with people of that sort," said Holmes, as we sat in the sheets of
               the <ref target="wherry_" corresp="wherry">wherry</ref>
               <note xml:id="wherry" target="wherry_" resp="editors.xml#GG" type="gloss">
                                <graphic url="notes/wherry.jpg" source="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/37/Wherry01.JPG" alt="a wherry built to 18th-century design specifications" desc="Wherry, Kingston upon Thames (Wikimedia Commons)"/>A wherry is a type of boat used to carry passengers in
                  canals in England. This image, <ref target="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/37/Wherry01.JPG">from
                     Wikimedia Commons</ref> , shows an example of a wherry built to 18th-century
                  design at Kingston upon Thames.</note>, “is never to let them think that their
               information can be of the slightest importance to you. If you do, they will instantly
               shut up like an oyster. If you listen to them under protest, as it were, you are very
               likely to get what you want."</p>
            <p>“Our course now seems pretty clear," said I.</p>
            <p>“What would you do, then?"</p>
            <p>“I would engage a launch and go down the river on the track of the Aurora."</p>
            <p>“My dear fellow, it would be a colossal task. She may have touched at any wharf on
               either side of the stream between here and <placeName type="tgn" key="7018915">Greenwich</placeName>. Below the bridge there is a
               perfect labyrinth of landing-places for miles. It would take you days and days to
               exhaust them, if you set about it alone."</p>
            <p>“Employ the police, then."</p>
            <p>“No. I shall probably call Athelney Jones in at the last moment. He is not a bad
               fellow, and I should not like to do anything which would injure him professionally.
               But I have a fancy for working it out myself, now that we have gone so far."</p>
            <p>“Could we advertise, then, asking for information from wharfingers?"</p>
            <p>“Worse and worse! Our men would know that the chase was hot at their heels, and they
               would be off out of the country. As it is, they<pb n="187" facs="pageImages/187.jpg"/> are likely enough to leave, but as long as they think they are perfectly safe they
               will be in no hurry. Jones’s energy will be of use to us there, for his view of the
               case is sure to push itself into the daily press, and the runaways will think that
               every one is off on the wrong scent."</p>
            <p>“What are we to do, then?" I asked, as we landed near Millbank Penitentiary.</p>
            <p>“Take this <ref target="hansom_" corresp="hansom">hansom</ref>
               <note xml:id="hansom" target="hansom_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">
                                <graphic url="notes/London_Cabmen.jpeg" alt="photograph of a hansom cab with driver, 1887" desc="Hansom cab with driver, 1877 (Wikimedia Commons)" source="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:London_Cabmen.jpg"/>A hansom is a low-hanging two-wheeled horse
                  carriage that can seat two people, with the driver elevated behind (OED). The
                  image included here is a photograph of a hansom cab with driver from 1877, via
                     <ref target="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:London_Cabmen.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</ref>. </note>, drive home, have some breakfast, and get an
               hour’s sleep. It is quite on the cards that we may be afoot to-night again. Stop at a
               telegraph-office, cabby! We will keep Toby, for he may be of use to us yet."</p>
            <p>We pulled up at the Great Peter Street post-office, and Holmes despatched his wire.
               “Whom do you think that is to?" he asked, as we resumed our journey.</p>
            <p>“I am sure I don’t know."</p>
            <p>“You remember the Baker Street division of the detective police force whom I employed
               in the Jefferson Hope case?"</p>
            <p>“Well," said I, laughing.</p>
            <p>“This is just the case where they might be invaluable. If they fail, I have other
               resources; but I shall try them first. That wire was to my dirty little lieutenant,
               Wiggins, and I expect that he and his gang will be with us before we have finished
               our breakfast."</p>
            <p>It was between eight and nine o’clock now, and I was conscious of a strong reaction
               after the successive excitements of the night. I was limp and weary, befogged in mind
               and fatigued in body. I had not the professional enthusiasm which carried my
               companion on, nor could I look at the matter as a mere abstract intellectual problem.
               As far as the death of Bartholomew Sholto went, I had heard little good of him, and
               could feel no intense antipathy to his murderers. The treasure, however, was a
               different matter. That, or part of it, belonged rightfully to Miss . While there was
               a chance of recovering it I was ready to devote my life to the one object. True, if I
               found it it would probably put her forever beyond my reach. Yet it would be a petty
               and selfish love which would be influenced by such a thought as that. If Holmes could
               work to find the criminals, I had a tenfold stronger reason to urge me on to find the
               treasure.</p>
            <p>A bath at Baker Street and a complete change freshened me up wonderfully. When I came
               down to our room I found the breakfast laid and Homes pouring out the coffee.</p>
            <p>“Here it is," said he, laughing, and pointing to an open newspaper. “The energetic
               Jones and the ubiquitous reporter have fixed it up between them. But you have had
               enough of the case. Better have your ham and eggs first."</p>
            <p>I took the paper from him and read the short notice, which was headed “Mysterious
               Business at Upper <placeName type="tgn" key="7029209">Norwood</placeName>."</p>
            <p>“About twelve o’clock last night," said the Standard, “Mr. Bartholomew Sholto, of
               Pondicherry Lodge, Upper <placeName type="tgn" key="7029209">Norwood</placeName>, was
               found dead in his room under circumstances which point to foul play. As far as we can
               learn, no actual traces of violence were found upon Mr. Sholto’s person, but a
               valuable collection of Indian gems which the<pb n="188" facs="pageImages/188.jpg"/>
               deceased gentleman had inherited from his father has been carried off. The discovery
               was first made by Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, who had called at the house
               with Mr. Thaddeus Sholto, brother of the deceased. By a singular piece of good
               fortune, Mr. Athelney Jones, the well-known member of the detective police force,
               happened to be at the <placeName type="tgn" key="7029209">Norwood</placeName> Police
               Station, and was on the ground within half an hour of the first alarm. His trained
               and experienced faculties were at once directed towards the detection of the
               criminals, with the gratifying result that the brother, Thaddeus Sholto, has already
               been arrested, together with the housekeeper, Mrs. Bernstone, an Indian butler named
               Lal Rao, and a porter, or gatekeeper, named McMurdo. It is quite certain that the
               thief or thieves were well acquainted with the house, for Mr. Jones’s well-known
               technical knowledge and his powers of minute observation have enabled him to prove
               conclusively that the miscreants could not have entered by the door or by the window,
               but must have made their way across the roof of the building, and so through a
               trap-door into a room which communicated with that in which the body was found. This
               fact, which has been very clearly made out, proves conclusively that it was no mere
               haphazard burglary. The prompt and energetic action of the officers of the law shows
               the great advantage of the presence on such occasions of a single vigorous and
               masterful mind. We cannot but think that it supplies an argument to those who would
               wish to see our detectives more decentralised, and so brought into closer and more
               effective touch with the cases which it is their duty to investigate."</p>
            <p>“Isn’t it gorgeous!" said Holmes, grinning over his coffee-cup. “What do you think of
               it?"</p>
            <p>“I think that we have had a close shave ourselves of being arrested for the
               crime."</p>
            <p>“So do I. I wouldn’t answer for our safety now, if he should happen to have another
               of his attacks of energy."</p>
            <p>At this moment there was a loud ring at the bell, and I could hear Mrs. Hudson, our
               landlady, raising her voice in a wail of expostulation and dismay.</p>
            <p>“By heaven, Holmes," I said, half rising, “I believe that they are really after
               us."</p>
            <p>“No, it’s not quite so bad as that. It is the unofficial force,—the Baker Street
               irregulars."</p>
            <p>As he spoke, there came a swift pattering of naked feet upon the stairs, a clatter of
               high voices, and in rushed a dozen dirty and ragged little street-Arabs. There was
               some show of discipline among them, despite their tumultuous entry, for they
               instantly drew up in line and stood facing us with expectant faces. One of their
               number, taller and older than the others, stood forward with an air of lounging
               superiority which was very funny in such a disreputable little scarecrow.</p>
            <p>“Got your message, sir," said he, “and brought ’em on sharp. Three bob and a tanner
               for tickets."</p>
            <p>“Here you are," said Holmes, producing some silver. “In future they can report to
               you, Wiggins, and you to me. I cannot have the house invaded in this way. However, it
               is just as well that you should<pb n="189" facs="pageImages/189.jpg"/> all hear the
               instructions. I want to find the whereabouts of a steam launch called the Aurora,
               owner Mordecai Smith, black with two red streaks, funnel black with a white band. She
               is down the river somewhere. I want one boy to be at Mordecai Smith’s landing-stage
               opposite Millbank to say if the boat comes back. You must divide it out among
               yourselves, and do both banks thoroughly. Let me know the moment you have news. Is
               that all clear?"</p>
            <p>“Yes, guv’nor," said Wiggins.</p>
            <p>“The old scale of pay, and a guinea to the boy who finds the boat. Here’s a day in
               advance. Now off you go!" He handed them a shilling each, and away they buzzed down
               the stairs, and I saw them a moment later streaming down the street.</p>
            <p>“If the launch is above water they will find her," said Holmes, as he rose from the
               table and lit his pipe. “They can go everywhere, see everything, overhear every one.
               I expect to hear before evening that they have spotted her. In the meanwhile, we can
               do nothing but await results. We cannot pick up the broken trail until we find either
               the Aurora or Mr. Mordecai Smith."</p>
            <p>“Toby could eat these scraps, I dare say. Are you going to bed, Holmes?"</p>
            <p>“No; I am not tired. I have a curious constitution. I never remember feeling tired by
               work, though idleness exhausts me completely. I am going to smoke and to think over
               this queer business to which my fair client has introduced us. If ever man had an
               easy task, this of ours ought to be. Wooden-legged men are not so common, but the
               other man must, I should think, be absolutely unique."</p>
            <p>“That other man again!"</p>
            <p>“I have no wish to make a mystery of him,—to you, anyway. But you must have formed
               your own opinion. Now, do consider the data. Diminutive footmarks, toes never
               fettered by boots, naked feet, stone-headed wooden mace, great agility, small
               poisoned darts. What do you make of all this?"</p>
            <p>“A savage!" I exclaimed. “Perhaps one of those Indians who were the associates of
               Jonathan Small."</p>
            <p>“Hardly that," said he. “When first I saw signs of strange weapons I was inclined to
               think so; but the remarkable character of the footmarks caused me to reconsider my
               views. Some of the inhabitants of the <placeName type="tgn" key="7000198">Indian Peninsula</placeName> are small men, but none could
               have left such marks as that. The Hindoo proper has long and thin feet. The
               sandal-wearing <ref target="Mohammedan_" corresp="Mohammedan">Mohammedans</ref>
               <note xml:id="Mohammedan" target="Mohammedan_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A
                  Mohammedan refers to one who follows the prophet Muhammed, or Islam. The term is
                  now considered offensive (OED).</note> has the great toe well separated from the
               others, because the thong is commonly passed between. These little darts, too, could
               only be shot in one way. They are from a blow-pipe. Now, then, where are we to find
               our savage?"</p>
            <p>“South American," I hazarded.</p>
            <p>He stretched his hand up, and took down a bulky volume from the shelf. “This is the
               first volume of a <ref target="gazetteer_" corresp="gazetteer">gazetteer</ref>
               <note xml:id="gazetteer" target="gazetteer_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A
                  gazetteer is an index or directory of a place that's used along a map or atlas.
                  Ancient Greeks were the first known to use gazetteers, and they became popular in
                  19th century Britain to note the many places across the empire. Source: <ref target="https://www.europa.uk.com/what-is-a-gazetteer/)">Europa
                     Technologies</ref>.</note> which is now being published. It may be looked upon
               as the very latest authority. What have we here? ‘<placeName type="tgn" key="1009838">Andaman Islands</placeName>, situated 340 miles
               to the north of <placeName type="tgn" key="7016484">Sumatra</placeName>, in the <placeName type="tgn" key="1112667">Bay of Bengal</placeName>.’ Hum! hum! What’s all this? Moist
               climate, coral reefs, sharks, <placeName type="tgn" key="1076627">Port Blair</placeName>, convict-barracks, <placeName type="tgn" key="1008839">Rutland</placeName>
                            <pb n="190" facs="pageImages/190.jpg"/> Island, cottonwoods—Ah, here we are. ‘The aborigines
               of the <placeName type="tgn" key="1009838">Andaman Islands</placeName> may perhaps claim the distinction of being the smallest race
               upon this earth, though some anthropologists prefer the Bushmen of Africa, the Digger
               Indians of America, and the Terra del Fuegians. The average height is rather below
               four feet, although many full-grown adults may be found who are very much smaller
               than this. They are a fierce, morose, and intractable people, though capable of
               forming most devoted friendships when their confidence has once been gained.’ Mark
               that, Watson. Now, then, listen to this. ‘They are naturally hideous, having large,
               misshapen heads, small, fierce eyes, and distorted features. Their feet and hands,
               however, are remarkably small. So intractable and fierce are they that all the
               efforts of the British official have failed to win them over in any degree. They have
               always been a terror to shipwrecked crews, braining the survivors with their
               stone-headed clubs, or shooting them with their poisoned arrows. These massacres are
               invariably concluded by a cannibal feast.’ Nice, amiable people, Watson! If this
               fellow had been left to his own unaided devices this affair might have taken an even
               more ghastly turn. I fancy that, even as it is, Jonathan Small would give a good deal
               not to have employed him."</p>
            <p>“But how came he to have so singular a companion?"</p>
            <p>“Ah, that is more than I can tell. Since, however, we had already determined that
               Small had come from the <placeName type="tgn" key="1009838">Andamans</placeName>, it is not so very wonderful that this islander
               should be with him. No doubt we shall know all about it in time. Look here, Watson;
               you look regularly done. Lie down there on the sofa, and see if I can put you to
               sleep."</p>
            <p>He took up his violin from the corner, and as I stretched myself out he began to play
               some low, dreamy, melodious air,—his own, no doubt, for he had a remarkable gift for
               improvisation. I have a vague remembrance of his gaunt limbs, his earnest face, and
               the rise and fall of his bow. Then I seemed to be floated peacefully away upon a soft
               sea of sound, until I found myself in dreamland, with the sweet face of Mary looking
               down upon me.</p>
         </div>
         <div>
            <head>CHAPTER IX.</head>
            <head type="sub">A BREAK IN THE CHAIN.</head>
            <p>It was late in the afternoon before I woke, strengthened and refreshed. Sherlock
               Holmes still sat exactly as I had left him, save that he had laid aside his violin
               and was deep in a book. He looked across at me, as I stirred, and I noticed that his
               face was dark and troubled.</p>
            <p>“You have slept soundly," he said. “I feared that our talk would wake you."</p>
            <p>“I heard nothing," I answered. “Have you had fresh news, then?"</p>
            <p>“Unfortunately, no. I confess that I am surprised and disappointed. I expected
               something definite by this time. Wiggins has just been up to report. He says that no
               trace can be found of the launch. It is a provoking check, for every hour is of
               importance."</p>
            <pb n="191" facs="pageImages/191.jpg"/>
            <p>“Can I do anything? I am perfectly fresh now, and quite ready for another night’s
               outing."</p>
            <p>“No, we can do nothing. We can only wait. If we go ourselves, the message might come
               in our absence, and delay be caused. You can do what you will, but I must remain on
               guard."</p>
            <p>“Then I shall run over to Camberwell and call upon Mrs. Cecil Forrester. She asked me
               to, yesterday."</p>
            <p>“On Mrs. Cecil Forrester?" asked Holmes, with the twinkle of a smile in his eyes.</p>
            <p>“Well, of course Miss too. They were anxious to hear what happened."</p>
            <p>“I would not tell them too much," said Holmes. “Women are never to be entirely
               trusted,—not the best of them."</p>
            <p>I did not pause to argue over this atrocious sentiment. “I shall be back in an hour
               or two," I remarked.</p>
            <p>“All right! Good luck! But, I say, if you are crossing the river you may as well
               return Toby, for I don’t think it is at all likely that we shall have any use for him
               now."</p>
            <p>I took our mongrel accordingly, and left him, together with a half-sovereign, at the
               old naturalist’s in Pinchin Lane. At Camberwell I found Miss a little weary after her
               night’s adventures, but very eager to hear the news. Mrs. Forrester, too, was full of
               curiosity. I told them all that we had done, suppressing, however, the more dreadful
               parts of the tragedy. Thus, although I spoke of Mr. Sholto’s death, I said nothing of
               the exact manner and method of it. With all my omissions, however, there was enough
               to startle and amaze them.</p>
            <p>“It is a <ref target="romance_" corresp="romance">romance</ref>
               <note xml:id="romance" target="romance_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A romance
                  is a fictitious narrative, where the events described are far removed from
                  everyday life, offering sensation to its theme. (OED)</note>!" cried Mrs.
               Forrester. “An injured lady, half a million in treasure, a black cannibal, and a
               wooden-legged ruffian. They take the place of the conventional dragon or wicked
               earl."</p>
            <p>“And two knight-errants to the rescue," added Miss , with a bright glance at me.</p>
            <p>“Why, Mary, your fortune depends upon the issue of this search. I don’t think that
               you are nearly excited enough. Just imagine what it must be to be so rich, and to
               have the world at your feet!"</p>
            <p>It sent a little thrill of joy to my heart to notice that she showed no sign of
               elation at the prospect. On the contrary, she gave a toss of her proud head, as
               though the matter were one in which she took small interest.</p>
            <p>“It is for Mr. Thaddeus Sholto that I am anxious," she said. “Nothing else is of any
               consequence; but I think that he has behaved most kindly and honourably throughout.
               It is our duty to clear him of this dreadful and unfounded charge."</p>
            <p>It was evening before I left Camberwell, and quite dark by the time I reached home.
               My companion’s book and pipe lay by his chair, but he had disappeared. I looked about
               in the hope of seeing a note, but there was none.</p>
            <p>“I suppose that Mr. Sherlock Holmes has gone out," I said to Mrs. Hudson as she came
               up to lower the blinds.</p>
            <p>“No, sir. He has gone to his room, sir. Do you know, sir,"<pb n="192" facs="pageImages/192.jpg"/> sinking her voice into an impressive whisper, “I am
               afraid for his health?"</p>
            <p>“Why so, Mrs. Hudson?"</p>
            <p>“Well, he’s that strange, sir. After you was gone he walked and he walked, up and
               down, and up and down, until I was weary of the sound of his footstep. Then I heard
               him talking to himself and muttering, and every time the bell rang out he came on the
               stairhead, with ‘What is that, Mrs. Hudson?’ And now he has slammed off to his room,
               but I can hear him walking away the same as ever. I hope he’s not going to be ill,
               sir. I ventured to say something to him about cooling medicine, but he turned on me,
               sir, with such a look that I don’t know how ever I got out of the room."</p>
            <p>“I don’t think that you have any cause to be uneasy, Mrs. Hudson," I answered. “I
               have seen him like this before. He has some small matter upon his mind which makes
               him restless." I tried to speak lightly to our worthy landlady, but I was myself
               somewhat uneasy when through the long night I still from time to time heard the dull
               sound of his tread, and knew how his keen spirit was chafing against this involuntary
               inaction.</p>
            <p>At breakfast-time he looked worn and haggard, with a little fleck of feverish colour
               upon either cheek.</p>
            <p>“You are knocking yourself up, old man," I remarked. “I heard you marching about in
               the night."</p>
            <p>“No, I could not sleep," he answered. “This infernal problem is consuming me. It is
               too much to be balked by so petty an obstacle, when all else had been overcome. I
               know the men, the launch, everything; and yet I can get no news. I have set other
               agencies at work, and used every means at my disposal. The whole river has been
               searched on either side, but there is no news, nor has Mrs. Smith heard of her
               husband. I shall come to the conclusion soon that they have scuttled the craft. But
               there are objections to that."</p>
            <p>“Or that Mrs. Smith has put us on a wrong scent."</p>
            <p>“No, I think that may be dismissed. I had inquiries made, and there is a launch of
               that description."</p>
            <p>“Could it have gone up the river?"</p>
            <p>“I have considered that possibility too, and there is a search-party who will work up
               as far as Richmond. If no news comes to-day, I shall start off myself to-morrow, and
               go for the men rather than the boat. But surely, surely, we shall hear
               something."</p>
            <p>We did not, however. Not a word came to us either from Wiggins or from the other
               agencies. There were articles in most of the papers upon the <placeName type="tgn" key="7029209">Norwood</placeName> tragedy. They all appeared to be rather hostile
               to the unfortunate Thaddeus Sholto. No fresh details were to be found, however, in
               any of them, save that an inquest was to be held upon the following day. I walked
               over to Camberwell in the evening to report our ill success to the ladies, and on my
               return I found Holmes dejected and somewhat morose. He would hardly reply to my
               questions, and busied himself all evening in an abstruse chemical analysis which
               involved much heating of retorts and distilling of vapours, ending at last in a smell
               which fairly drove me out of the apartment. Up to<pb n="193" facs="pageImages/193.jpg"/> the small hours of the morning I could hear the
               clinking of his test-tubes which told me that he was still engaged in his malodorous
               experiment.</p>
            <p>In the early dawn I woke with a start, and was surprised to find him standing by my
               bedside, clad in a rude sailor dress with a pea-jacket, and a coarse red scarf round
               his neck.</p>
            <p>“I am off down the river, Watson," said he. “I have been turning it over in my mind,
               and I can see only one way out of it. It is worth trying, at all events."</p>
            <p>“Surely I can come with you, then?" said I.</p>
            <p>“No; you can be much more useful if you will remain here as my representative. I am
               loath to go, for it is quite on the cards that some message may come during the day,
               though Wiggins was despondent about it last night. I want you to open all notes and
               telegrams, and to act on your own judgment if any news should come. Can I rely upon
               you?"</p>
            <p>“Most certainly."</p>
            <p>“I am afraid that you will not be able to wire to me, for I can hardly tell yet where
               I may find myself. If I am in luck, however, I may not be gone so very long. I shall
               have news of some sort or other before I get back."</p>
            <p>I had heard nothing of him by breakfast-time. On opening <ref target="thestandard_" corresp="thestandard">the Standard </ref>
               <note xml:id="thestandard" target="thestandard_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">The Standard, later known as the Evening Standard, is a London newspaper that was
                  launched in 1827. To learn more about the history of the Standard and where it
                  stands today, check out<ref target="https://www.theguardian.com/media/2009/jan/14/history-london-evening-standard">A history of the London Evening Standard: seeing off rivals for 181
                     years</ref> in The Guardian.</note>, however, I found that there was a fresh
               allusion to the business. “With reference to the Upper <placeName type="tgn" key="7029209">Norwood</placeName> tragedy," it remarked, “we have reason to
               believe that the matter promises to be even more complex and mysterious than was
               originally supposed. Fresh evidence has shown that it is quite impossible that Mr.
               Thaddeus Sholto could have been in any way concerned in the matter. He and the
               housekeeper, Mrs. Bernstone, were both released yesterday evening. It is believed,
               however, that the police have a clue as to the real culprits, and that it is being
               prosecuted by Mr. Athelney Jones, of Scotland Yard, with all his well-known energy
               and sagacity. Further arrests may be expected at any moment."</p>
            <p>“That is satisfactory so far as it goes," thought I. “Friend Sholto is safe, at any
               rate. I wonder what the fresh clue may be; though it seems to be a stereotyped form
               whenever the police have made a blunder."</p>
            <p>I tossed the paper down upon the table, but at that moment my eye caught an
               advertisement in <ref target="agony_" corresp="agony">the agony column</ref>
               <note xml:id="agony" target="agony_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">An agony
                  column is a section in the newspaper that features advertisements for missing
                  friends and relatives, or readers' questions on personal issues, with responses
                  from columnists. To read more, see <ref target="https://wordhistories.net/2017/01/27/agony-column/)">Word
                     Histories</ref>.</note>. It ran in this way:</p>
            <p>“Lost.—Whereas Mordecai Smith, boatman, and his son, Jim, left Smith’s Wharf at or
               about three o’clock last Tuesday morning in the steam launch Aurora, black with two
               red stripes, funnel black with a white band, the sum of five pounds will be paid to
               any one who can give information to Mrs. Smith, at Smith’s Wharf, or at 221b Baker
               Street, as to the whereabouts of the said Mordecai Smith and the launch Aurora."</p>
            <p>This was clearly Holmes’s doing. The Baker Street address was enough to prove that.
               It struck me as rather ingenious, because it might be read by the fugitives without
               their seeing in it more than the natural anxiety of a wife for her missing
               husband.</p>
            <pb n="194" facs="pageImages/194.jpg"/>
            <p>It was a long day. Every time that a knock came to the door, or a sharp step passed
               in the street, I imagined that it was either Holmes returning or an answer to his
               advertisement. I tried to read, but my thoughts would wander off to our strange quest
               and to the ill-assorted and villainous pair whom we were pursuing. Could there be, I
               wondered, some radical flaw in my companion’s reasoning. Might he be suffering from
               some huge self-deception? Was it not possible that his nimble and speculative mind
               had built up this wild theory upon faulty premises? I had never known him to be
               wrong; and yet the keenest reasoner may occasionally be deceived. He was likely, I
               thought, to fall into error through the over-refinement of his logic,—his preference
               for a subtle and bizarre explanation when a plainer and more commonplace one lay
               ready to his hand. Yet, on the other hand, I had myself seen the evidence, and I had
               heard the reasons for his deductions. When I looked back on the long chain of curious
               circumstances, many of them trivial in themselves, but all tending in the same
               direction, I could not disguise from myself that even if Holmes’s explanation were
               incorrect the true theory must be equally outré and startling.</p>
            <p>At three o’clock in the afternoon there was a loud peal at the bell, an authoritative
               voice in the hall, and, to my surprise, no less a person than Mr. Athelney Jones was
               shown up to me. Very different was he, however, from the brusque and masterful
               professor of common sense who had taken over the case so confidently at Upper
                  <placeName type="tgn" key="7029209">Norwood</placeName>. His expression was
               downcast, and his bearing meek and even apologetic.</p>
            <p>“Good-day, sir; good-day," said he. “Mr. Sherlock Holmes is out, I understand."</p>
            <p>“Yes, and I cannot be sure when he will be back. But perhaps you would care to wait.
               Take that chair and try one of these cigars."</p>
            <p>“Thank you; I don’t mind if I do," said he, mopping his face with a red bandanna
               handkerchief.</p>
            <p>“And a whiskey-and-soda?"</p>
            <p>“Well, half a glass. It is very hot for the time of year; and I have had a good deal
               to worry and try me. You know my theory about this <placeName type="tgn" key="7029209">Norwood</placeName> case?"</p>
            <p>“I remember that you expressed one."</p>
            <p>“Well, I have been obliged to reconsider it. I had my net drawn tightly round Mr.
               Sholto, sir, when pop he went through a hole in the middle of it. He was able to
               prove an alibi which could not be shaken. From the time that he left his brother’s
               room he was never out of sight of some one or other. So it could not be he who
               climbed over roofs and through trap-doors. It’s a very dark case, and my professional
               credit is at stake. I should be very glad of a little assistance."</p>
            <p>“We all need help sometimes," said I.</p>
            <p>“Your friend Mr. Sherlock Holmes is a wonderful man, sir," said he, in a husky and
               confidential voice. “He’s a man who is not to be beat. I have known that young man go
               into a good many cases, but I never saw the case yet that he could not throw a light
               upon. He is irregular in his methods, and a little quick perhaps in jumping at
               theories, but, on the whole, I think he would have made a most promising officer, and
               I don’t care who knows it. I have had a wire from<pb n="195" facs="pageImages/195.jpg"/> him this morning, by which I understand that he has
               got some clue to this Sholto business. Here is the message."</p>
            <p>He took the telegram out of his pocket, and handed it to me. It was dated from Poplar
               at twelve o’clock. “Go to Baker Street at once," it said. “If I have not returned,
               wait for me. I am close on the track of the Sholto gang. You can come with us
               to-night if you want to be in at the finish."</p>          
            <p>“This sounds well. He has evidently picked up the scent again," said I.</p>
            <p>“Ah, then he has been at fault too," exclaimed Jones, with evident satisfaction.
               “Even the best of us are thrown off sometimes. Of course this may prove to be a false
               alarm; but it is my duty as an officer of the law to allow no chance to slip. But
               there is some one at the door. Perhaps this is he."</p>
            <p>A heavy step was heard ascending the stair, with a great wheezing and rattling as
               from a man who was sorely put to it for breath. Once or twice he stopped, as though
               the climb were too much for him, but at last he made his way to our door and entered.
               His appearance corresponded to the sounds which we had heard. He was an aged man,
               clad in seafaring garb, with an old pea-jacket buttoned up to his throat. His back
               was bowed, his knees were shaky, and his breathing was painfully asthmatic. As he
               leaned upon a thick oaken cudgel his shoulders heaved in the effort to draw the air
               into his lungs. He had a coloured scarf round his chin, and I could see little of his
               face save a pair of keen dark eyes, overhung by bushy white brows, and long grey
               side-whiskers. Altogether he gave me the impression of a respectable master mariner
               who had fallen into years and poverty.</p>
            <p>“What is it, my man?" I asked.</p>
            <p>He looked about him in the slow methodical fashion of old age.</p>
            <p>“Is Mr. Sherlock Holmes here?" said he.</p>
            <p>“No; but I am acting for him. You can tell me any message you have for him."</p>
            <p>“It was to him himself I was to tell it," said he.</p>
            <p>“But I tell you that I am acting for him. Was it about Mordecai Smith’s boat?"</p>
            <p>“Yes. I knows well where it is. An’ I knows where the men he is after are. An’ I
               knows where the treasure is. I knows all about it."</p>
            <p>“Then tell me, and I shall let him know."</p>
            <p>“It was to him I was to tell it," he repeated, with the petulant obstinacy of a very
               old man.</p>
            <p>“Well, you must wait for him."</p>
            <p>“No, no; I ain’t goin’ to lose a whole day to please no one. If Mr. Holmes ain’t
               here, then Mr. Holmes must find it all out for himself. I don’t care about the look
               of either of you, and I won’t tell a word."</p>
            <p>He shuffled towards the door, but Athelney Jones got in front of him.</p>
            <p>“Wait a bit, my friend," said he. “You have important information, and you must not
               walk off. We shall keep you, whether you like or not, until our friend returns."</p>
            <pb n="196" facs="pageImages/196.jpg"/>
            <p>The old man made a little run towards the door, but, as Athelney Jones put his broad
               back up against it, he recognised the uselessness of resistance.</p>
            <p>“Pretty sort o’ treatment this!" he cried, stamping his stick. “I come here to see a
               gentleman, and you two, who I never saw in my life, seize me and treat me in this
               fashion!"</p>
            <p>“You will be none the worse," I said. “We shall recompense you for the loss of your
               time. Sit over here on the sofa, and you will not have long to wait."</p>
            <p>He came across sullenly enough, and seated himself with his face resting on his
               hands. Jones and I resumed our cigars and our talk. Suddenly, however, Holmes’s voice
               broke in upon us.</p>
            <p>“I think that you might offer me a cigar too," he said.</p>
            <p>We both started in our chairs. There was Holmes sitting close to us with an air of
               quiet amusement.</p>
            <p>“Holmes!" I exclaimed. “You here! But where is the old man?"</p>
            <p>“Here is the old man," said he, holding out a heap of white hair. “Here he is,—wig,
               whiskers, eyebrows, and all. I thought my disguise was pretty good, but I hardly
               expected that it would stand that test."</p>
            <p>“Ah, You rogue!" cried Jones, highly delighted. “You would have made an actor, and a
               rare one. You had the proper workhouse cough, and those weak legs of yours are worth
               ten pounds a week. I thought I knew the glint of your eye, though. You didn’t get
               away from us so easily, You see."</p>
            <p>“I have been working in that get-up all day," said he, lighting his cigar. “You see,
               a good many of the criminal classes begin to know me,—especially since our friend
               here took to publishing some of my cases: so I can only go on the war-path under some
               simple disguise like this. You got my wire?"</p>
            <p>“Yes; that was what brought me here."</p>
            <p>“How has your case prospered?"</p>
            <p>“It has all come to nothing. I have had to release two of my prisoners, and there is
               no evidence against the other two."</p>
            <p>“Never mind. We shall give you two others in the place of them. But you must put
               yourself under my orders. You are welcome to all the official credit, but you must
               act on the line that I point out. Is that agreed?"</p>
            <p>“Entirely, if you will help me to the men."</p>
            <p>“Well, then, in the first place I shall want a fast police-boat—a steam launch—to be
               at the Westminster Stairs at seven o’clock."</p>
            <p>“That is easily managed. There is always one about there; but I can step across the
               road and telephone to make sure."</p>
            <p>“Then I shall want two stanch men, in case of resistance."</p>
            <p>“There will be two or three in the boat. What else?"</p>
            <p>“When we secure the men we shall get the treasure. I think that it would be a
               pleasure to my friend here to take the box round to the young lady to whom half of it
               rightfully belongs. Let her be the first to open it.—Eh, Watson?"</p>
            <pb n="197" facs="pageImages/197.jpg"/>
            <p>“It would be a great pleasure to me."</p>
            <p>“Rather an irregular proceeding," said Jones, shaking his head. “However, the whole
               thing is irregular, and I suppose we must wink at it. The treasure must afterwards be
               handed over to the authorities until after the official investigation."</p>
            <p>“Certainly. That is easily managed. One other point. I should much like to have a few
               details about this matter from the lips of Jonathan Small himself. You know I like to
               work the detail of my cases out. There is no objection to my having an unofficial
               interview with him, either here in my rooms or elsewhere, as long as he is
               efficiently guarded?"</p>
            <p>“Well, you are master of the situation. I have had no proof yet of the existence of
               this Jonathan Small. However, if you can catch him I don’t see how I can refuse you
               an interview with him."</p>
            <p>“That is understood, then?"</p>
            <p>“Perfectly. Is there anything else?"</p>
            <p>“Only that I insist upon your dining with us. It will be ready in half an hour. I
               have oysters and a brace of grouse, with something a little choice in white
               wines.—Watson, you have never yet recognised my merits as a housekeeper."</p>
         </div>
         <div>
            <head>CHAPTER X.</head>
            <head type="sub">THE END OF THE ISLANDER.</head>
            <p>Our meal was a merry one. Holmes could talk exceedingly well when he chose, and that
               night he did choose. He appeared to be in a state of nervous exaltation. I have never
               known him so brilliant. He spoke on a quick succession of subjects,—on miracle-plays,
               on mediæval pottery, on Stradivarius violins, on the Buddhism of <placeName type="tgn" key="1000110">Ceylon</placeName>, and on the
               war-ships of the future,—handling each as though he had made a special study of it.
               His bright humour marked the reaction from his black depression of the preceding
               days. Athelney Jones proved to be a sociable soul in his hours of relaxation, and
               faced his dinner with <ref target="bonvivant_" corresp="bonvivant">the air of a bon
                  vivant</ref>
               <note xml:id="bonvivant" target="bonvivant_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A bon
                  vivant is someone who is fond of good living. (OED)</note>. For myself, I felt
               elated at the thought that we were nearing the end of our task, and I caught
               something of Holmes’s gaiety. None of us alluded during dinner to the cause which had
               brought us together.</p>
            <p>When the cloth was cleared, Holmes glanced at his watch, and filled up three glasses
               with port. “One bumper," said he, “to the success of our little expedition. And now
               it is high time we were off. Have you a pistol, Watson?"</p>
            <p>“I have my old service-revolver in my desk."</p>
            <p>“You had best take it, then. It is well to be prepared. I see that the cab is at the
               door. I ordered it for half-past six."</p>
            <p>It was a little past seven before we reached the Westminster wharf, and found our
               launch awaiting us. Holmes eyed it critically.</p>
            <p>“Is there anything to mark it as a police-boat?"</p>
            <p>“Yes,—that green lamp at the side."</p>
            <pb n="198" facs="pageImages/198.jpg"/>
            <p>“Then take it off."</p>
            <p>The small change was made, we stepped on board, and the ropes were cast off. Jones,
               Holmes, and I sat in the stern. There was one man at the rudder, one to tend the
               engines, and two burly police-inspectors forward.</p>
            <p>“Where to?" asked Jones.</p>
            <p>“To the Tower. Tell them to stop opposite Jacobson’s Yard."</p>
            <p>Our craft was evidently a very fast one. We shot past the long lines of loaded barges
               as though they were stationary. Holmes smiled with satisfaction as we overhauled a
               river steamer and left her behind us.</p>
            <p>“We ought to be able to catch anything on the river," he said.</p>
            <p>“Well, hardly that. But there are not many launches to beat us."</p>
            <p>“We shall have to catch the Aurora, and she has a name for being a clipper. I will
               tell you how the land lies, Watson. You recollect how annoyed I was at being balked
               by so small a thing?"</p>
            <p>“Yes."</p>
            <p>“Well, I gave my mind a thorough rest by plunging into a chemical analysis. One of
               our greatest statesmen has said that a change of work is the best rest. So it is.
               When I had succeeded in dissolving the hydrocarbon which I was at work at, I came
               back to our problem of the Sholtos, and thought the whole matter out again. My boys
               had been up the river and down the river without result. The launch was not at any
               landing-stage or wharf, nor had it returned. Yet it could hardly have been scuttled
               to hide their traces,—though that always remained as a possible hypothesis if all
               else failed. I knew this man Small had a certain degree of low cunning, but I did not
               think him capable of anything in the nature of delicate finesse. That is usually a
               product of higher education. I then reflected that since he had certainly been in
                  <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName> some time—as we had
               evidence that he maintained a continual watch over Pondicherry Lodge—he could hardly
               leave at a moment’s notice, but would need some little time, if it were only a day,
               to arrange his affairs. That was the balance of probability, at any rate."</p>
            <p>“It seems to me to be a little weak," said I. “It is more probable that he had
               arranged his affairs before ever he set out upon his expedition."</p>
            <p>“No, I hardly think so. This lair of his would be too valuable a retreat in case of
               need for him to give it up until he was sure that he could do without it. But a
               second consideration struck me. Jonathan Small must have felt that the peculiar
               appearance of his companion, however much he may have top-coated him, would give rise
               to gossip, and possibly be associated with this <placeName type="tgn" key="7029209">Norwood</placeName> tragedy. He was quite sharp enough to see that. They had
               started from their head-quarters under cover of darkness, and he would wish to get
               back before it was broad light. Now, it was past three o’clock, according to Mrs.
               Smith, when they got the boat. It would be quite bright, and people would be about in
               an hour or so. Therefore, I argued, they did not go very far. They paid Smith well to
               hold his tongue, reserved his launch for the final escape, and hurried to their
               lodgings with the treasure-box. In a couple of nights, when they had time to see what
               view the papers<pb n="199" facs="pageImages/199.jpg"/> took, and whether there was
               any suspicion, they would make their way under cover of darkness to some ship at
               <placeName type="tgn" key="7011614">Gravesend</placeName> or in <placeName type="tgn" key="7011505">the Downs</placeName>, where no doubt they had already arranged for passages to
               America or <ref target="the-colonies_" corresp="the-colonies">the Colonies</ref>
               <note xml:id="the-colonies" target="the-colonies_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">The colonial expansion of the British Empire in the 19th flourished, encompassing
                  lands from New Zealand, islands in the Pacific, India, and across Africa. During
                  this time, 1/4th of the world's population was under British rule. To learn more
                  about the historic British Empire, check out <ref target="https://www.britannica.com/place/British-Empire/Dominance-and-dominions">Britannica</ref>.</note>."</p>
            <p>“But the launch? They could not have taken that to their lodgings."</p>
            <p>“Quite so. I argued that the launch must be no great way off, in spite of its
               invisibility. I then put myself in the place of Small, and looked at it as a man of
               his capacity would. He would probably consider that to send back the launch or to
               keep it at a wharf would make pursuit easy if the police did happen to get on his
               track. How, then, could he conceal the launch and yet have her at hand when wanted? I
               wondered what I should do myself if I were in his shoes. I could only think of one
               way of doing it. I might land the launch over to some boat-builder or repairer, with
               directions to make a trifling change in her. She would then be removed to his shed or
               yard, and so be effectually concealed, while at the same time I could have her at a
               few hours’ notice."</p>
            <p>“That seems simple enough."</p>
            <p>“It is just these very simple things which are extremely liable to be overlooked.
               However, I determined to act on the idea. I started at once in this harmless seaman’s
               rig and inquired at all the yards down the river. I drew blank at fifteen, but at the
               sixteenth—Jacobson’s—I learned that the Aurora had been handed over to them two days
               ago by a wooden-legged man, with some trivial directions as to her rudder. ‘There
               ain’t naught amiss with her rudder,’ said the foreman. ‘There she lies, with the red
               streaks.’ At that moment who should come down but Mordecai Smith, the missing owner?
               He was rather the worse for liquor. I should not, of course, have known him, but he
               bellowed out his name and the name of his launch. ‘I want her to-night at eight
               o’clock,’ said he,—‘eight o’clock sharp, mind, for I have two gentlemen who won’t be
               kept waiting.’ They had evidently paid him well, for he was very flush of money,
               chucking shillings about to the men. I followed him some distance, but he subsided
               into an ale-house: so I went back to the yard, and, happening to pick up one of my
               boys on the way, I stationed him as a sentry over the launch. He is to stand at
               water’s edge and wave his handkerchief to us when they start. We shall be lying off
               in the stream, and it will be a strange thing if we do not take men, treasure, and
               all."</p>
            <p>“You have planned it all very neatly, whether they are the right men or not," said
               Jones; “but if the affair were in my hands I should have had a body of police in
               Jacobson’s Yard, and arrested them when they came down."</p>
            <p>“Which would have been never. This man Small is a pretty shrewd fellow. He would send
               a scout on ahead, and if anything made him suspicious lie snug for another week."</p>
            <p>“But you might have stuck to Mordecai Smith, and so been led to their hiding-place,"
               said I.</p>
            <p>“In that case I should have wasted my day. I think that it is a hundred to one
               against Smith knowing where they live. As long as he<pb n="200" facs="pageImages/200.jpg"/> has liquor and good pay, why should he ask questions?
               They send him messages what to do. No, I thought over every possible course, and this
               is the best."</p>
            <p>While this conversation had been proceeding, we had been shooting the long series of
               bridges which span the <placeName type="tgn" key="7011913">Thames</placeName>. As we
               passed the City the last rays of the sun were gilding the cross upon the summit of
               St. Paul’s. It was twilight before we reached the Tower.</p>
            <p>“That is Jacobson’s Yard," said Holmes, pointing to a bristle of masts and rigging on
               the Surrey side. “Cruise gently up and down here under cover of this string of
               lighters." He took a pair of <ref target="nightglass_" corresp="nightglass">night-glasses</ref>
               <note xml:id="nightglass" target="nightglass_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A
                  night-glass is a short telescope design to be used at night. (OED)</note> from his
               pocket and gazed some time at the shore. “I see my sentry at his post," he remarked,
               “but no sign of a handkerchief."</p>
            <p>“Suppose we go down-stream a short way and lie in wait for them," said Jones,
               eagerly. We were all eager by this time, even the policemen and stokers, who had a
               very vague idea of what was going forward.</p>
            <p>“We have no right to take anything for granted," Holmes answered. “It is certainly
               ten to one that they go down-stream, but we cannot be certain. From this point we can
               see the entrance of the yard, and they can hardly see us. It will be a clear night
               and plenty of light. We must stay where we are. See how the folk swarm over yonder in
               the gaslight."</p>
            <p>“They are coming from work in the yard."</p>
            <p>“Dirty-looking rascals, but I suppose every one has some little immortal spark
               concealed about him. You would not think it, to look at them. There is no a priori
               probability about it. A strange enigma is man!"</p>
            <p>“Some one calls him a soul concealed in an animal," I suggested.</p>
            <p>“Winwood Reade is good upon the subject," said Holmes. “He remarks that, while the
               individual man is an insoluble puzzle, in the aggregate he becomes a mathematical
               certainty. You can, for example, never foretell what any one man will do, but you can
               say with precision what an average number will be up to. Individuals vary, but
               percentages remain constant. So says the statistician. But do I see a handkerchief?
               Surely there is a white flutter over yonder."</p>
            <p>“Yes, it is your boy," I cried. “I can see him plainly."</p>
            <p>“And there is the Aurora," exclaimed Holmes, “and going like the devil! Full speed
               ahead, engineer. Make after that launch with the yellow light. By heaven, I shall
               never forgive myself if she proves to have the heels of us!"</p>
            <p>She had slipped unseen through the yard-entrance and passed behind two or three small
               craft, so that she had fairly got her speed up before we saw her. Now she was flying
               down the stream, near in to the shore, going at a tremendous rate. Jones looked
               gravely at her and shook his head.</p>
            <p>“She is very fast," he said. “I doubt if we shall catch her."</p>
            <p>“We must catch her!" cried Holmes, between his teeth. “Heap it on, stokers! Make her
               do all she can! If we burn the boat we must have them!"</p>
            <p>We were fairly after her now. The furnaces roared, and the powerful<pb n="201 [break after power-]" facs="pageImages/201.jpg"/> engines whizzed and
               clanked, like a great metallic heart. Her sharp, steep prow cut through the
               river-water and sent two rolling waves to right and to left of us. With every throb
               of the engines we sprang and quivered like a living thing. One great yellow lantern
               in our bows threw a long, flickering funnel of light in front of us. Right ahead a
               dark blur upon the water showed where the Aurora lay, and the swirl of white foam
               behind her spoke of the pace at which she was going. We flashed past barges,
               steamers, merchant-vessels, in and out, behind this one and round the other. Voices
               hailed us out of the darkness, but still the Aurora thundered on, and still we
               followed close upon her track.</p>
            <p/>
            <p>“Pile it on, men, pile it on!" cried Holmes, looking down into the engine-room, while
               the fierce glow from below beat upon his eager, aquiline face. “Get every pound of
               steam you can."</p>
            <p>“I think we gain a little," said Jones, with his eyes on the Aurora.</p>
            <p>“I am sure of it," said I. “We shall be up with her in a very few minutes."</p>
            <p>At that moment, however, as our evil fate would have it, a tug with three barges in
               tow blundered in between us. It was only by putting our helm hard down that we
               avoided a collision, and before we could round them and recover our way the Aurora
               had gained a good two hundred yards. She was still, however, well in view, and the
               murky uncertain twilight was setting into a clear starlit night. Our boilers were
               strained to their utmost, and the frail shell vibrated and creaked with the fierce
               energy which was driving us along. We had shot through the Pool, past the West India
               Docks, down the long Deptford Reach, and up again after rounding the <placeName type="tgn" key="1006968">Isle of Dogs</placeName>.
               The dull blur in front of us resolved itself now clearly enough into the dainty
               Aurora. Jones turned our search-light upon her, so that we could plainly see the
               figures upon her deck. One man sat by the stern, with something black between his
               knees over which he stooped. Beside him lay a dark mass which looked like a
               Newfoundland dog. The boy held the tiller, while against the red glare of the furnace
               I could see old Smith, stripped to the waist, and shovelling coals for dear life.
               They may have had some doubt at first as to whether we were really pursuing them, but
               now as we followed every winding and turning which they took there could no longer be
               any question about it. At <placeName type="tgn" key="7018915">Greenwich</placeName> we were about three hundred paces behind them. At
               Blackwall we could not have been more than two hundred and fifty. I have coursed many
               creatures in many countries during my checkered career, but never did sport give me
               such a wild thrill as this mad, flying man-hunt down the <placeName type="tgn" key="7011913">Thames</placeName>. Steadily we drew in upon them, yard by yard. In
               the silence of the night we could hear the panting and clanking of their machinery.
               The man in the stern still crouched upon the deck, and his arms were moving as though
               he were busy, while every now and then he would look up and measure with a glance the
               distance which still separated us. Nearer we came and nearer. Jones yelled to them to
               stop. We were not more than four boat’s lengths behind them, both boats flying at a
               tremendous pace. It was a clear reach of the river, with Barking Level upon one side
               and the melancholy Plumstead Marshes upon the<pb n="202" facs="pageImages/202.jpg"/>
               other. At our hail the man in the stern sprang up from the deck and shook his two
               clinched fists at us, cursing the while in a high, cracked voice. He was a
               good-sized, powerful man, and as he stood poising himself with legs astride I could
               see that from the thigh downwards there was but a wooden stump upon the right side.
               At the sound of his strident, angry cries there was movement in the huddled bundle
               upon the deck. It straightened itself into a little black man—the smallest I have
               ever seen—with a great, misshapen head and a shock of tangled, dishevelled hair.
               Holmes had already drawn his revolver, and I whipped out mine at the sight of this
               savage, distorted creature. He was wrapped in some sort of dark 
                  <ref target="ulster_" corresp="ulster">ulster</ref>
               <note xml:id="ulster" target="ulster_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">An ulster
                  is a long overcoat made from rough fabric. (OED)</note> or blanket, which left
               only his face exposed; but that face was enough to give a man a sleepless night.
               Never have I seen features so deeply marked with all bestiality and cruelty. His
               small eyes glowed and burned with a sombre light, and his thick lips were writhed
               back from his teeth, which grinned and chattered at us with a half animal fury.</p>
            <p>“Fire if he raises his hand," said Holmes, quietly. We were within a boat’s-length by
               this time, and almost within touch of our quarry. I can see the two of them now as
               they stood, the white man with his legs far apart, shrieking out curses, and the <ref target="unhallowed_" corresp="unhallowed">unhallowed</ref>
               <note xml:id="unhallowed" target="unhallowed_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">Unhallowed means wicked or unholy (OED). The dwarf here is being described as
                  "unhallowed."</note> dwarf with his hideous face, and his strong yellow teeth
               gnashing at us in the light of our lantern.</p>
            <p>It was well that we had so clear a view of him. Even as we looked he plucked out from
               under his covering a short, round piece of wood, like a school-ruler, and clapped it
               to his lips. Our pistols rang out together. He whirled round, threw up his arms, and
               with a kind of choking cough fell sideways into the stream. I caught one glimpse of
               his venomous, menacing eyes amid the white swirl of the waters. At the same moment
               the wooden-legged man threw himself upon the rudder and put it hard down, so that his
               boat made straight in for the southern bank, while we shot past her stern, only
               clearing her by a few feet. We were round after her in an instant, but she was
               already nearly at the bank. It was a wild and desolate place, where the moon
               glimmered upon a wide expanse of marsh-land, with pools of stagnant water and beds of
               decaying vegetation. The launch with a dull thud ran up upon the mud-bank, with her
               bow in the air and her stern flush with the water. The fugitive sprang out, but his
               stump instantly sank its whole length into the sodden soil. In vain he struggled and
               writhed. Not one step could he possibly take either forwards or backwards. He yelled
               in impotent rage, and kicked frantically into the mud with his other foot, but his
               struggles only bored his wooden pin the deeper into the sticky bank. When we brought
               our launch alongside he was so firmly anchored that it was only by throwing the end
               of a rope over his shoulders that we were able to haul him out, and to drag him, like
               some evil fish, over our side. The two Smiths, father and son, sat sullenly in their
               launch, but came aboard meekly enough when commanded. The Aurora herself we hauled
               off and made fast to our stern. A solid iron chest of Indian workmanship stood upon
               the deck. This, there could be no question, was the same that had contained the
               ill-omened treasure of the Sholtos. There was no key, but it was of considerable<pb n="203 [Break after con-]" facs="pageImages/203.jpg"/> weight, so we transferred
               it carefully to our own little cabin. As we steamed slowly up-stream again, we
               flashed our search-light in every direction, but there was no sign of the Islander.
               Somewhere in the dark ooze at the bottom of the <placeName type="tgn" key="7011913">Thames</placeName> lie the bones of that strange visitor to our shores.</p>
            <p>“See here," said Holmes, pointing to the wooden hatchway. “We were hardly quick
               enough with our pistols." There, sure enough, just behind where we had been standing,
               stuck one of those murderous darts which we knew so well. It must have whizzed
               between us at the instant that we fired. Holmes smiled at it and shrugged his
               shoulders in his easy fashion, but I confess that it turned me sick to think of the
               horrible death which had passed so close to us that night.</p>
         </div>
         <div>
            <head>CHAPTER XI.</head>
           <head type="sub">THE GREAT AGRA TREASURE.</head>
            <p>Our captive sat in the cabin opposite to the iron box which he had done so much and
               waited so long to gain. He was a sunburned, reckless-eyed fellow, with a network of
               lines and wrinkles all over his mahogany features, which told of a hard, open-air
               life. There was a singular prominence about his bearded chin which marked a man who
               was not to be easily turned from his purpose. His age may have been fifty or
               thereabouts, for his black, curly hair was thickly shot with grey. His face in repose
               was not an unpleasing one, though his heavy brows and aggressive chin gave him, as I
               had lately seen, a terrible expression when moved to anger. He sat now with his
               handcuffed hands upon his lap, and his head sunk upon his breast, while he looked
               with his keen, twinkling eyes at the box which had been the cause of his ill-doings.
               It seemed to me that there was more sorrow than anger in his rigid and contained
               countenance. Once he looked up at me with a gleam of something like humour in his
               eyes.</p>
            <p>“Well, Jonathan Small," said Holmes, lighting a cigar, “I am sorry that it has come
               to this."</p>
            <p>“And so am I, sir," he answered, frankly. “I don’t believe that I can swing over the
               job. I give you my word on the book that I never raised hand against Mr. Sholto. It
               was that little hell-hound Tonga who shot one of his cursed darts into him. I had no
               part in it, sir. I was as grieved as if it had been my blood-relation. I welted the
               little devil with the slack end of the rope for it, but it was done, and I could not
               undo it again."</p>
            <p>“Have a cigar," said Holmes; “and you had best take a pull out of my flask, for you
               are very wet. How could you expect so small and weak a man as this black fellow to
               overpower Mr. Sholto and hold him while you were climbing the rope?"</p>
            <p>“You seem to know as much about it as if you were there, sir. The truth is that I
               hoped to find the room clear. I knew the habits of the house pretty well, and it was
               the time when Mr. Sholto usually went down to his supper. I shall make no secret of
               the business. The best defence that I can make is just the simple truth. Now, if it
                  had<pb n="204" facs="pageImages/204.jpg"/> been the old major I would have swung
               for him with a light heart. I would have thought no more of knifing him than of
               smoking this cigar. But it’s cursed hard that I should be lagged over this young
               Sholto, with whom I had no quarrel whatever."</p>
            <p>“You are under the charge of Mr. Athelney Jones, of Scotland Yard. He is going to
               bring you up to my rooms, and I shall ask you for a true account of the matter. You
               must make a clean breast of it, for if you do I hope that I may be of use to you. I
               think I can prove that the poison acts so quickly that the man was dead before ever
               you reached the room."</p>
            <p>“That he was, sir. I never got such a turn in my life as when I saw him grinning at
               me with his head on his shoulder as I climbed through the window. It fairly shook me,
               sir. I’d have half killed Tonga for it if he had not scrambled off. That was how he
               came to leave his club, and some of his darts too, as he tells me, which I dare say
               helped to put you on our track; though how you kept on it is more than I can tell. I
               don’t feel no malice against you for it. But it does seem a queer thing," he added,
               with a bitter smile, “that I who have a fair claim to nigh upon half a million of
               money should spend the first half of my life building a <ref target="breakwater_" corresp="breakwater">breakwater</ref>
               <note xml:id="breakwater" target="breakwater_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A
                  breakwater is a barrier built on a beach to the force of waves, to protect a
                  harbor. See entry on the Andaman Islands and Ross Island Penal Colony.</note> in
               the Andamans, and am like to spend the other half digging drains at Dartmoor. It was
               an evil day for me when first I clapped eyes upon the merchant Achmet and had to do
               with the Agra treasure, which never brought anything but a curse yet upon the man who
               owned it. To him it brought murder, to Major Sholto it brought fear and guilt, to me
               it has meant slavery for life."</p>
            <p>At this moment Athelney Jones thrust his broad face and heavy shoulders into the tiny
               cabin. “Quite a family party," he remarked. “I think I shall have a pull at that
               flask, Holmes. Well, I think we may all congratulate each other. Pity we didn’t take
               the other alive; but there was no choice. I say, Holmes, you must confess that you
               cut it rather fine. It was all we could do to overhaul her."</p>
            <p>“All is well that ends well," said Holmes. “But I certainly did not know that the
               Aurora was such a clipper."</p>
            <p>“Smith says she is one of the fastest launches on the river, and that if he had had
               another man to help him with the engines we should never have caught her. He swears
               he knew nothing of this <placeName type="tgn" key="7029209">Norwood</placeName>
               business."</p>
            <p>“Neither he did," cried our prisoner,—“not a word. I chose his launch because I heard
               that she was a flier. We told him nothing, but we paid him well, and he was to get
               something handsome if we reached our vessel, the Esmeralda, at Gravesend, outward
               bound for the Brazils."</p>
            <p>“Well, if he has done no wrong we shall see that no wrong comes to him. If we are
               pretty quick in catching our men, we are not so quick in condemning them." It was
               amusing to notice how the consequential Jones was already beginning to give himself
               airs on the strength of the capture. From the slight smile which played over Sherlock
               Holmes’s face, I could see that the speech had not been lost upon him.</p>
            <pb n="205" facs="pageImages/205.jpg"/>
            <p>“We will be at Vauxhall Bridge presently," said Jones, “and shall land you, Dr.
               Watson, with the treasure-box. I need hardly tell you that I am taking a very grave
               responsibility upon myself in doing this. It is most irregular; but of course an
               agreement is an agreement. I must, however, as a matter of duty, send an inspector
               with you, since you have so valuable a charge. You will drive, no doubt?"</p>
            <p>“Yes, I shall drive."</p>
            <p>“It is a pity there is no key, that we may make an inventory first. You will have to
               break it open. Where is the key, my man?"</p>
            <p>“At the bottom of the river," said Small, shortly.</p>
            <p>“Hum! There was no use your giving this unnecessary trouble. We have had work enough
               already through you. However, doctor, I need not warn you to be careful. Bring the
               box back with you to the Baker Street rooms. You will find us there, on our way to
               the station."</p>
            <p>They landed me at Vauxhall, with my heavy iron box, and with a bluff, genial
               inspector as my companion. A quarter of an hour’s drive brought us to Mrs. Cecil
               Forrester’s. The servant seemed surprised at so late a visitor. Mrs. Cecil Forrester
               was out for the evening, she explained, and likely to be very late. Miss , however,
               was in the drawing-room: so to the drawing-room I went, box in hand, leaving the
               obliging inspector in the cab.</p>
            <p>She was seated by the open window, dressed in some sort of white diaphanous material,
               with a little touch of scarlet at the neck and waist. The soft light of a shaded lamp
               fell upon her as she leaned back in the basket chair, playing over her sweet, grave
               face, and tinting with a dull, metallic sparkle the rich coils of her luxuriant hair.
               One white arm and hand drooped over the side of the chair, and her whole pose and
               figure spoke of an absorbing melancholy. At the sound of my foot-fall she sprang to
               her feet, however, and a bright flush of surprise and of pleasure coloured her pale
               cheeks.</p>
            <p>“I heard a cab drive up," she said. “I thought that Mrs. Forrester had come back very
               early, but I never dreamed that it might be you. What news have you brought me?"</p>
            <p>“I have brought something better than news," said I, putting down the box upon the
               table and speaking jovially and boisterously, though my heart was heavy within me. “I
               have brought you something which is worth all the news in the world. I have brought
               you a fortune."</p>
            <p>She glanced at the iron box. “Is that the treasure, then?" she asked, coolly
               enough.</p>
            <p>“Yes, this is the great Agra treasure. Half of it is yours and half is Thaddeus
               Sholto’s. You will have a couple of hundred thousand each. Think of that! An annuity
               of ten thousand pounds. There will be few richer young ladies in <placeName type="tgn" key="7002445">England</placeName>. Is it not
               glorious?"</p>
            <p>I think that I must have been rather overacting my delight, and that she detected a
               hollow ring in my congratulations, for I saw her eyebrows rise a little, and she
               glanced at me curiously.</p>
            <p>“If I have it," said she, “I owe it to you."</p>
            <p>“No, no," I answered, “not to me, but to my friend Sherlock<pb n="205" facs="pageImages/205.jpg"/> Holmes. With all the will in the world, I could never
               have followed up a clue which has taxed even his analytical genius. As it was, we
               very nearly lost it at the last moment."</p>
            <p>“Pray sit down and tell me all about it, Dr. Watson," said she.</p>
            <p>I narrated briefly what had occurred since I had seen her last,—Holmes’s new method
               of search, the discovery of the Aurora, the appearance of Athelney Jones, our
               expedition in the evening, and the wild chase down the <placeName type="tgn" key="7011913">Thames</placeName>. She listened with parted lips and shining eyes
               to my recital of our adventures. When I spoke of the dart which had so narrowly
               missed us, she turned so white that I feared that she was about to faint.</p>
            <p>“It is nothing," she said, as I hastened to pour her out some water. “I am all right
               again. It was a shock to me to hear that I had placed my friends in such horrible
               peril."</p>
            <p>“That is all over," I answered. “It was nothing. I will tell you no more gloomy
               details. Let us turn to something brighter. There is the treasure. What could be
               brighter than that? I got leave to bring it with me, thinking that it would interest
               you to be the first to see it."</p>
            <p>“It would be of the greatest interest to me," she said. There was no eagerness in her
               voice, however. It had struck her, doubtless, that it might seem ungracious upon her
               part to be indifferent to a prize which had cost so much to win.</p>
            <p>“What a pretty box!" she said, stooping over it. “This is Indian work, I
               suppose?"</p>
            <p>“Yes; it is <ref target="benares_" corresp="benares">Benares metal-work</ref>
               <note xml:id="benares" target="benares_" resp="editors.xml#GG" type="gloss">
                                <graphic url="notes/benares.jpg" desc="Brass vessel of Benares brass, 19th century (British Museum)" source="https://media.britishmuseum.org/media/Repository/Documents/2014_11/1_2/b81508df_e37e_4a58_9004_a3d6002db2bb/preview_01046882_001.jpg" alt="a photograph of a 19th-century vessel made of Benares brass, housed in the British Museum"/>Benares brass comes from the city of Benares (today
                  known as Varanasi), India, which is a region rich in copper. This image, <ref target="https://media.britishmuseum.org/media/Repository/Documents/2014_11/1_2/b81508df_e37e_4a58_9004_a3d6002db2bb/preview_01046882_001.jpg">from The British Museum</ref>, shows a 19th-century vessel made from Benares
                  brass.</note>."</p>
            <p>“And so heavy!" she exclaimed, trying to raise it. “The box alone must be of some
               value. Where is the key?"</p>
            <p>“Small threw it into the <placeName type="tgn" key="7011913">Thames</placeName>," I
               answered. “I must borrow Mrs. Forrester’s poker." There was in the front a thick and
               broad hasp, wrought in the image of a sitting Buddha. Under this I thrust the end of
               the poker and twisted it outward as a lever. The hasp sprang open with a loud snap.
               With trembling fingers I flung back the lid. We both stood gazing in astonishment.
               The box was empty!</p>
            <p>No wonder that it was heavy. The iron-work was two-thirds of an inch thick all round.
               It was massive, well made, and solid, like a chest constructed to carry things of
               great price, but not one shred or crumb of metal or jewelry lay within it. It was
               absolutely and completely empty.</p>
            <p>“The treasure is lost," said Miss, calmly.</p>
            <p>As I listened to the words and realised what they meant, a great shadow seemed to
               pass from my soul. I did not know how this Agra treasure had weighed me down, until
               now that it was finally removed. It was selfish, no doubt, disloyal, wrong, but I
               could realise nothing save that the golden barrier was gone from between us. “Thank
               God!" I ejaculated from my very heart.</p>
            <p>She looked at me with a quick, questioning smile. “Why do you say that?" she
               asked.</p>
            <p>“Because you are within my reach again," I said, taking her hand. She did not
               withdraw it. “Because I love you, Mary, as truly as ever a man loved a woman. Because
               this treasure, these riches, sealed my<pb n="207" facs="pageImages/207.jpg"/> lips.
               Now that they are gone I can tell you how I love you. That is why I said, ‘Thank
               God.’"</p>
            <p>“Then I say, ‘Thank God,’ too," she whispered, as I drew her to my side. Whoever had
               lost a treasure, I knew that night that I had gained one.</p>
         </div>
         <div>
            <head>CHAPTER XII.</head>
            <head type="sub">THE STRANGE STORY OF JONATHAN SMALL.</head>
            <p>A very patient man was that inspector in the cab, for it was a weary time before I
               rejoined him. His face clouded over when I showed him the empty box.</p>
            <p>“There goes the reward!" said he, gloomily. “Where there is no money there is no pay.
               This night’s work would have been worth a tenner each to Sam Brown and me if the
               treasure had been there."</p>
            <p>“Mr. Thaddeus Sholto is a rich man," I said. “He will see that you are rewarded,
               treasure or no."</p>
            <p>The inspector shook his head despondently, however. “It’s a bad job," he repeated;
               “and so Mr. Athelney Jones will think."</p>
            <p>His forecast proved to be correct, for the detective looked blank enough when I got
               to Baker Street and showed him the empty box. They had only just arrived, Holmes, the
               prisoner, and he, for they had changed their plans so far as to report themselves at
               a station upon the way. My companion lounged in his arm-chair with his usual listless
               expression, while Small sat stolidly opposite to him with his wooden leg cocked over
               his sound one. As I exhibited the empty box he leaned back in his chair and laughed
               aloud.</p>
            <p>“This is your doing, Small," said Athelney Jones, angrily.</p>
            <p>“Yes, I have put it away where you shall never lay hand upon it," he cried,
               exultantly. “It is my treasure; and if I can’t have the loot I’ll take darned good
               care that no one else does. I tell you that no living man has any right to it, unless
               it is three men who are in the Andaman convict-barracks and myself. I know now that I
               cannot have the use of it, and I know that they cannot. I have acted all through for
               them as much as for myself. It’s been the sign of four with us always. Well I know
               that they would have had me do just what I have done, and throw the treasure into the
                  <placeName type="tgn" key="7011913">Thames</placeName> rather than let it go to
               kith or kin of Sholto or of . It was not to make them rich that we did for Achmet.
               You’ll find the treasure where the key is, and where little Tonga is. When I saw that
               your launch must catch us, I put the loot away in a safe place. There are no
               <ref target="rupee_" corresp="rupee">rupee</ref>
               <note xml:id="rupee" target="rupee_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A rupee is a
                  unit of money in India, Pakistan, Nepal, Sri Lanka, Mauritius, and the Seychelles.
                  (OED)</note> for you this journey."</p>
            <p>“You are deceiving us, Small," said Athelney Jones, sternly. “If you had wished to
               throw the treasure into the <placeName type="tgn" key="7011913">Thames</placeName> it
               would have been easier for you to have thrown box and all."</p>
            <p>“Easier for me to throw, and easier for you to recover," he answered, with a shrewd,
               sidelong look. “The man that was clever enough to hunt me down is clever enough to
               pick an iron box from the bottom of a river. Now that they are scattered over five
               miles or so,<pb n="208" facs="pageImages/208.jpg"/> it may be a harder job. It went
               to my heart to do it, though. I was half mad when you came up with us. However,
               there’s no good grieving over it. I’ve had ups in my life, and I’ve had downs, but
               I’ve learned not to cry over spilled milk."</p>
            <p>“This is a very serious matter, Small," said the detective. “If you had helped
               justice, instead of thwarting it in this way, you would have had a better chance at
               your trial."</p>
            <p>“Justice!" snarled the ex-convict. “A pretty justice! Whose loot is this, if it is
               not ours? Where is the justice that I should give it up to those who have never
               earned it? Look how I have earned it! Twenty long years in that fever-ridden swamp,
               all day at work under the mangrove-tree, all night chained up in the filthy
               convict-huts, bitten by mosquitoes, racked with ague, bullied by every cursed
               black-faced policeman who loved to take it out of a white man. That was how I earned
               the Agra treasure; and you talk to me of justice because I cannot bear to feel that I
               have paid this price only that another may enjoy it! I would rather swing a score of
               times, or have one of Tonga’s darts in my hide, than live in a convict’s cell and
               feel that another man is at his ease in a palace with the money that should be mine."
               Small had dropped his mask of stoicism, and all this came out in a wild whirl of
               words, while his eyes blazed, and the handcuffs clanked together with the impassioned
               movement of his hands. I could understand, as I saw the fury and the passion of the
               man, that it was no groundless or unnatural terror which had possessed Major Sholto
               when he first learned that the injured convict was upon his track.</p>
            <p>“You forget that we know nothing of all this," said Holmes quietly. “We have not
               heard your story, and we cannot tell how far justice may originally have been on your
               side."</p>
            <p>“Well, sir, you have been very fair-spoken to me, though I can see that I have you to
               thank that I have these bracelets upon my wrists. Still, I bear no grudge for that.
               It is all fair and above-board. If you want to hear my story I have no wish to hold
               it back. What I say to you is God’s truth, every word of it. Thank you; you can put
               the glass beside me here, and I’ll put my lips to it if I am dry.</p>
            <p>“I am a Worcestershire man myself,—born near Pershore. I dare say you would find a
               heap of Smalls living there now if you were to look. I have often thought of taking a
               look round there, but the truth is that I was never much of a credit to the family,
               and I doubt if they would be so very glad to see me. They were all steady,
               chapel-going folk, small farmers, well-known and respected over the country-side,
               while I was always a bit of a rover. At last, however, when I was about eighteen, I
               gave them no more trouble, for I got into a mess over a girl, and could only get out
               of it again by <ref target="QueensShilling_" corresp="QueensShilling">taking the
                  Queen’s shilling</ref>
                            <note xml:id="QueensShilling" target="QueensShilling_" resp="editors.xml#TH" type="gloss">To "take the Queen's shilling"--or the
                  King's--refers to the initial payment made to those who were recruited to serve in
                  the army or navy. Often, those recruited were in poverty, and so this inducement
                  was later seen as a sign of impressment. According to <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/King%27s_shilling">Wikipedia</ref>, the
                  practice is very old, but being associated unwilling recruitment, it was stopped
                  in 1879.</note> and joining the <ref target="thirdbuffs_" corresp="thirdbuffs">3rd
                  Buffs</ref>
               <note xml:id="thirdbuffs" target="thirdbuffs_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#GG">According to the UK National Army Museum, the Buffs was one of the first
                  regiments in the British Army, originating in 1577, and serving for 17 years in
                  India during the 19th century. The Buffs merged and now are part of The Queen's
                  Own Buffs, The Royal Kent Regiment. To read , see <ref target="https://www.nam.ac.uk/explore/buffs-royal-east-kent-regiment">The
                     National Army Museum</ref>.</note>, which was just starting for <placeName type="tgn" key="7000198">India</placeName>.</p>
            <p>“I wasn’t destined to do much soldiering, however. I had just got past the
               goose-step, and learned to handle my musket, when I was fool enough to go swimming in
               the Ganges. Luckily for me, my company sergeant, John Holder, was in the water at the
               same time, and he was one of the finest swimmers in the service. A crocodile took me,
               just as<pb n="209" facs="pageImages/209.jpg"/> I was half-way across, and nipped off
               my right leg as clean as a surgeon could have done it, just above the knee. What with
               the shock and the loss of blood, I fainted, and should have drowned if Holder had not
               caught hold of me and paddled for the bank. I was five months in hospital over it,
               and when at last I was able to limp out of it with this timber toe strapped to my
               stump I found myself invalided out of the army and unfitted for any active
               occupation.</p>
            <p>“I was, as you can imagine, pretty down on my luck at this time, for I was a useless
               cripple though not yet in my twentieth year. However, my misfortune soon proved to be
               a blessing in disguise. A man named Abel White, who had come out there as an <ref target="indigo_" corresp="indigo">indigo-planter</ref>
               <note xml:id="indigo" target="indigo_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">Indigo
                  refers to a dye-like substance created from the powder of Indigofera plants (OED).
                  In British India, indigo plantations were greatly expanded because of the demand
                  for the dye in western Europe, leading to the exploitation of those who worked the
                  land. To learn more about the cultivation of indigo, see <ref target="https://indianculture.gov.in/video/agony-indigo-cultivators">this film
                     from the National Council of Science Museums, India</ref>.</note>, wanted an
               overseer to look after his coolies and keep them up to their work. He happened to be
               a friend of our colonel’s, who had taken an interest in me since the accident. To
               make a long story short, the colonel recommended me strongly for the post and, as the
               work was mostly to be done on horseback, my leg was no great obstacle, for I had
               enough knee left to keep good grip on the saddle. What I had to do was to ride over
               the plantation, to keep an eye on the men as they worked, and to report the idlers.
               The pay was fair, I had comfortable quarters, and altogether I was content to spend
               the remainder of my life in indigo-planting. Mr. Abel White was a kind man, and he
               would often drop into my little shanty and smoke a pipe with me, for white folk out
               there feel their hearts warm to each other as they never do here at home.</p>
            <p>“Well, I was never in luck’s way long. Suddenly, without a note of warning, <ref target="mutiny1857_" corresp="mutiny1857">the great mutiny</ref>
               <note xml:id="mutiny1857" target="mutiny1857_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">The
                  Indian Mutiny of 1857, also referred to as the Rebellion, was an unsuccessful
                  attempt to overthrow British rulers in colonial India. It began with the uprising
                  of Indian troops (sepoys) against the British East India Company, ultimately
                  resulting in direct rule by the British raj for the following century. It is also
                  referred to as the First War of Independence in India. To learn more about this
                  historical event, see <ref target="https://www.britannica.com/event/Indian-Mutiny">Britannica</ref>.</note> broke upon us. One month <placeName type="tgn" key="7000198"> India</placeName> lay as still and
               peaceful, to all appearance, as <placeName type="tgn" key="7008175">Surrey</placeName> or <placeName type="tgn" key="7008153">Kent</placeName>; the next there were two hundred
               thousand black devils let loose, and the country was a perfect hell. Of course you
               know all about it, gentlemen,—a deal more than I do, very like, since reading is not
               in my line. I only know what I saw with my own eyes. Our plantation was at a place
               called <placeName type="tgn" key="7001569">Muttra</placeName>, near the border of the Northwest Provinces. Night after night the
               whole sky was alight with <ref target="bungalow_" corresp="bungalow">bungalows</ref>
               <note xml:id="bungalow" target="bungalow_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">A 19th
                  century bungalow in India was typically a one-story building that sit on a large,
                  landscaped compound. The construction of Bungalows was rooted to British military
                  engineers who wanted to standardize permanent dwellings for the East India
                  Company. To learn more about this imperial architecture, check out <ref target="https://www.architectural-review.com/places/india/the-origin-and-indigenisation-of-the-imperial-bungalow-in-india?tkn=1">Architectural Review</ref>.</note>, and day after day we had small companies
               of Europeans passing through our estate with their wives and children, on their way
               to <placeName type="tgn" key="7001493">Agra</placeName>, where were the nearest troops. Mr. Abel White was an obstinate man. He had
               it in his head that the affair had been exaggerated, and that it would blow over as
               suddenly as it had sprung up. There he sat on his veranda, drinking whiskey-pegs and
               smoking cheroots, while the country was in a blaze about him. Of course we stuck by
               him, I and Dawson, who, with his wife, used to do the book-work and the managing.
               Well, one fine day the crash came. I had been away on a distant plantation, and was
               riding slowly home in the evening, when my eye fell upon something all huddled
               together at the bottom of a steep nullah. I rode down to see what it was, and the
               cold struck through my heart when I found it was Dawson’s wife, all cut into ribbons,
               and half eaten by jackals and native dogs. A little further up the road Dawson
               himself was lying on his face, quite dead, with an empty revolver in his hand and
               four greg.gillespie (edited) Sep 6 <ref target="sepoy_" corresp="sepoy">Sepoys</ref>
               <note xml:id="sepoy" target="sepoy_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A sepoy is a
                  native Indian who serves as a soldier in the British army. (OED).</note> lying
               across each other in front of him. I reined up my horse, wondering which way I should
               turn, but at that moment I saw thick smoke curling up from Abel White’s bungalow and
               the flames beginning to burst through the roof.<pb n="210" facs="pageImages/210.jpg"/> I knew then that I could do my employer no good, but would only throw my own life
               away if I meddled in the matter. From where I stood I could see hundreds of the black
               fiends, with their red coats still on their backs, dancing and howling round the
               burning house. Some of them pointed at me, and a couple of bullets sang past my head;
               so I broke away across the paddy-fields, and found myself late at night safe within
               the walls at <placeName type="tgn" key="7001493">Agra</placeName>.</p>
            <p>“As it proved, however, there was no great safety there, either. The whole country
               was up like a swarm of bees. Wherever the English could collect in little bands they
               held just the ground that their guns commanded. Everywhere else they were helpless
               fugitives. It was a fight of the millions against the hundreds; and the cruellest
               part of it was that these men that we fought against, foot, horse, and gunners, were
               our own picked troops, whom we had taught and trained, handling our own weapons, and
               blowing our own bugle-calls. At <placeName type="tgn" key="7001493">Agra</placeName> there were the 3rd Bengal Fusiliers, some <ref target="sikh_" corresp="sikh">Sikhs</ref>
               <note xml:id="sikh" target="sikh_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A Sikh is a
                  person who follows Sikhism, a monotheistic religion which originated in the Punjab
                  region of India in the 15h century. During the 19th century, the British Army
                  recruited a number Sikhs, who remained loyal to them during the 1857 rebellion and
                  decades afterwards. To read more about these people, see <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sikhs">Wikipedia</ref>.</note> , two
               troops of horse, and a battery of artillery. A volunteer corps of clerks and
               merchants had been formed, and this I joined, wooden leg and all. We went out to meet
               the rebels at Shahgunge early in July, and we beat them back for a time, but our
               powder gave out, and we had to fall back upon the city.</p>
            <p>“Nothing but the worst news came to us from every side,—which is not to be wondered
               at, for if you look at the map you will see that we were right in the heart of it.
               Lucknow is rather better than a hundred miles to the east, and Cawnpore about as far
               to the south. From every point on the compass there was nothing but torture and
               murder and outrage.</p>
            <p>“The city of <placeName type="tgn" key="7001493">Agra</placeName> is a great place, swarming with fanatics and fierce
               devil-worshippers of all sorts. Our handful of men were lost among the narrow,
               winding streets. Our leader moved across the river, therefore, and took up his
               position in <ref target="agrafort_" corresp="agrafort">the old fort at Agra</ref>
               <note xml:id="agrafort" target="agrafort_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">The
                  historical fort in Agra, India, was bult in 1565-1573 for Mughal Emperor Akbar,
                  and used as the main residence for rulers until 1638, when the capital shifted to
                  Delhi. Agra Fort was the site of the 1857 rebellion, which resulted in the end of
                  the British East India Company's ruling of India, instead turning into direct
                  rule. To read more about this fort, see <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agra_Fort">Wikipedia</ref>.</note>. I
               don’t know if any of you gentlemen have ever read or heard anything of that old fort.
               It is a very queer place,—the queerest that ever I was in, and I have been in some
               rum corners, too. First of all, it is enormous in size. I should think that the
               enclosure must be acres and acres. There is a modern part, which took all our
               garrison, women, children, stores, and everything else, with plenty of room over. But
               the modern part is nothing like the size of the old quarter, where nobody goes, and
               which is given over to the scorpions and the centipedes. It is all full of great
               deserted halls, and winding passages, and long corridors twisting in and out, so that
               it is easy enough for folk to get lost in it. For this reason it was seldom that any
               one went into it, though now and again a party with torches might go exploring.</p>
            <p>“The river washes along the front of the old fort, and so protects it, but on the
               sides and behind there are many doors, and these had to be guarded, of course, in the
               old quarter as well as in that which was actually held by our troops. We were
               short-handed, with hardly men enough to man the angles of the building and to serve
               the guns. It was impossible for us, therefore, to station a strong guard at every one
               of the innumerable gates. What we did was to organise a central guard-house in the
               middle of the fort, and to leave each gate under the charge of one white man and two
               or three natives. I was selected to<pb n="211" facs="pageImages/211.jpg"/> take
               charge during certain hours of the night of a small isolated door upon the southwest
               side of the building. Two Sikh troopers were placed under my command, and I was
               instructed if anything went wrong to fire my musket, when I might rely upon help
               coming at once from the central guard. As the guard was a good two hundred paces
               away, however, and as the space between was cut up into a labyrinth of passages and
               corridors, I had great doubts as to whether they could arrive in time to be of any
               use in case of an actual attack.</p>
            <p>“Well, I was pretty proud at having this small command given me, since I was a raw
               recruit, and a game-legged one at that. For two nights I kept the watch with my
               Punjaubees. They were tall, fierce-looking chaps, Mahomet Singh and Abdullah Khan by
               name, both old fighting-men who had borne arms against us at Chilian-wallah. They
               could talk English pretty well, but I could get little out of them. They preferred to
               stand together and jabber all night in their queer Sikh lingo. For myself, I used to
               stand outside the gateway, looking down on the broad, winding river and on the
               twinkling lights of the great city. The beating of drums, the rattle of tomtoms, and
               the yells and howls of the rebels, drunk with opium and with bang, were enough to
               remind us all night of our dangerous neighbours across the stream. Every two hours
               the officer of the night used to come round to all the posts, to make sure that all
               was well.</p>
            <p>“The third night of my watch was dark and dirty, with a small, driving rain. It was
               dreary work standing in the gateway hour after hour in such weather. I tried again
               and again to make my Sikhs talk, but without much success. At two in the morning the
               rounds passed, and broke for a moment the weariness of the night. Finding that my
               companions would not be led into conversation, I took out my pipe, and laid down my
               musket to strike the match. In an instant the two Sikhs were upon me. One of them
               snatched my firelock up and levelled it at my head, while the other held a great
               knife to my throat and swore between his teeth that he would plunge it into me if I
               moved a step.</p>
            <p>“My first thought was that these fellows were in league with the rebels, and that
               this was the beginning of an assault. If our door were in the hands of the Sepoys the
               place must fall, and the women and children be treated as they were in <placeName type="tgn" key="7001527">Cawnpore</placeName>.
               Maybe you gentlemen think that I am just making out a case for myself, but I give you
               my word that when I thought of that, though I felt the point of the knife at my
               throat, I opened my mouth with the intention of giving a scream, if it was my last
               one, which might alarm the main guard. The man who held me seemed to know my
               thoughts; for, even as I braced myself to it, he whispered, ‘Don’t make a noise. The
               fort is safe enough. There are no rebel dogs on this side of the river.’ There was
               the ring of truth in what he said, and I knew that if I raised my voice I was a dead
               man. I could read it in the fellow’s brown eyes. I waited, therefore, in silence, to
               see what it was that they wanted from me.</p>
            <p>“‘Listen to me, Sahib,’ said the taller and fiercer of the pair, the one whom they
               called Abdullah Khan. ‘You must either be with us<pb n="212" facs="pageImages/212.jpg"/> now or you must be silenced forever. The thing is too
               great a one for us to hesitate. Either you are heart and soul with us on your oath on
               the cross of the Christians, or your body this night shall be thrown into the ditch
               and we shall pass over to our brothers in the rebel army. There is no middle way.
               Which is it to be, death or life? We can only give you three minutes to decide, for
               the time is passing, and all must be done before the rounds come again.’</p>
            <p>“‘How can I decide?’ said I. ‘You have not told me what you want of me. But I tell
               you now that if it is anything against the safety of the fort I will have no truck
               with it, so you can drive home your knife and welcome.’</p>
            <p>“‘It is nothing against the fort,’ said he. ‘We only ask you to do that which your
               countrymen come to this land for. We ask you to be rich. If you will be one of us
               this night, we will swear to you upon the naked knife, and by the threefold oath
               which no Sikh was ever known to break, that you shall have your fair share of the
               loot. A quarter of the treasure shall be yours. We can say no fairer.’</p>
            <p>“‘But what is the treasure, then?’ I asked. ‘I am as ready to be rich as you can be,
               if you will but show me how it can be done.’</p>
            <p>“‘You will swear, then,’ said he, ‘by the bones of your father, by the honour of your
               mother, by the cross of your faith, to raise no hand and speak no word against us,
               either now or afterwards?’</p>
            <p>“‘I will swear it,’ I answered, ‘provided that the fort is not endangered.’</p>
            <p>“‘Then my comrade and I will swear that you shall have a quarter of the treasure
               which shall be equally divided among the four of us.’</p>
            <p>“‘There are but three,’ said I.</p>
            <p>“‘No; Dost Akbar must have his share. We can tell the tale to you while we await
               them. Do you stand at the gate, Mahomet Singh, and give notice of their coming. The
               thing stands thus, Sahib, and I tell it to you because I know that an oath is binding
               upon a Feringhee, and that we may trust you. Had you been a lying Hindoo, though you
               had sworn by all the gods in their false temples, your blood would have been upon the
               knife, and your body in the water. But the Sikh knows the Englishman, and the
               Englishman knows the Sikh. Hearken, then, to what I have to say.</p>
            <p>“‘There is a <ref target="rajah_" corresp="rajah">rajah</ref>
               <note xml:id="rajah" target="rajah" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">A rajah is an
                  Indian king or prince (OED).</note> in the northern provinces who has much wealth,
               though his lands are small. Much has come to him from his father, and more still he
               has set by himself, for he is of a low nature and hoards his gold rather than spend
               it. When the troubles broke out he would be friends both with the lion and the
               tiger,—with the Sepoy and with the <ref target="companyraj_" corresp="companyraj">Company's Raj</ref>
               <note xml:id="companyraj" target="companyraj_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">Company Raj refers to the individual appointed by the East India Company to take
                  charge in the area. To read more about this history, see <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Company_rule_in_India">Wikipedia</ref>.</note>. Soon, however, it seemed to him that the white men’s day
               was come, for through all the land he could hear of nothing but of their death and
               their overthrow. Yet, being a careful man, he made such plans that, come what might,
               half at least of his treasure should be left to him. That which was in gold and
               silver he kept by him in the vaults of his palace, but the most precious stones and
               the choicest pearls that he had he put in an iron box, and sent it by a trusty
               servant who, under the guise of a merchant, should take it to the fort at <placeName type="tgn" key="7001493">Agra</placeName>, there
               to lie until the land is at peace. Thus, if the<pb n="213" facs="pageImages/213.jpg"/> rebels won he would have his money, but if the Company conquered his jewels would
               be saved to him. Having thus divided his hoard, he threw himself into the cause of
               the Sepoys, since they were strong upon his borders. By doing this, mark you, Sahib,
               his property becomes the due of those who have been true to their salt.</p>
            <p>“‘This pretended merchant, who travels under the name of Achmet, is now in the city
               of <placeName type="tgn" key="7001493">Agra</placeName>, and desires to gain his way into the fort. He has with him as
               travelling-companion my foster-brother Dost Akbar, who knows his secret. Dost Akbar
               has promised this night to lead him to a side-postern of the fort, and has chosen
               this one for his purpose. Here he will come presently, and here he will find Mahomet
               Singh and myself awaiting him. The place is lonely, and none shall know of his
               coming. The world shall know of the merchant Achmet no more, but the great treasure
               of the rajah shall be divided among us. What say you to it, Sahib?’</p>
            <p>“In Worcestershire the life of a man seems a great and a sacred thing; but it is very
               different when there is fire and blood all round you and you have been used to
               meeting death at every turn. Whether Achmet the merchant lived or died was a thing as
               light as air to me, but at the talk about the treasure my heart turned to it, and I
               thought of what I might do in the old country with it, and how my folk would stare
               when they saw their ne’er-do-well coming back with his pockets full of gold <ref target="moidore_" corresp="moidore">moidores</ref>
               <note xml:id="moidore" target="moidore_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A moidore
                  is a Portuguese gold coin from the 18th century. (OED)</note>. I had, therefore,
               already made up my mind. Abdullah Khan, however, thinking that I hesitated, pressed
               the matter more closely.</p>
            <p>“‘Consider, Sahib,’ said he, ‘that if this man is taken by the commandant he will be
               hung or shot, and his jewels taken by the government, so that no man will be a rupee
               the better for them. Now, since we do the taking of him, why should we not do the
               rest as well? The jewels will be as well with us as in the Company’s coffers. There
               will be enough to make every one of us rich men and great chiefs. No one can know
               about the matter, for here we are cut off from all men. What could be better for the
               purpose? Say again, then, Sahib, whether you are with us, or if we must look upon you
               as an enemy.’</p>
            <p>“‘I am with you heart and soul,’ said I.</p>
            <p>“‘It is well,’ he answered, handing me back my firelock. ‘You see that we trust you,
               for your word, like ours, is not to be broken. We have now only to wait for my
               brother and the merchant.’</p>
            <p>“‘Does your brother know, then, of what you will do?’ I asked.</p>
            <p>“‘The plan is his. He has devised it. We will go to the gate and share the watch with
               Mahomet Singh.’</p>
            <p>“The rain was still falling steadily, for it was just the beginning of the wet
               season. Brown, heavy clouds were drifting across the sky, and it was hard to see more
               than a stone-cast. A deep moat lay in front of our door, but the water was in places
               nearly dried up, and it could easily be crossed. It was strange to me to be standing
               there with those two wild Punjaubees waiting for the man who was coming to his
               death.</p>
            <p>“Suddenly my eye caught the glint of a shaded lantern at the other side of the moat.
               It vanished among the mound-heaps, and then appeared again coming slowly in our
               direction.</p>
            <pb n="214" facs="pageImages/214.jpg"/>
            <p>“‘Here they are!’ I exclaimed.</p>
            <p>“‘You will challenge him, Sahib, as usual,’ whispered Abdullah. ‘Give him no cause
               for fear. Send us in with him, and we shall do the rest while you stay here on guard.
               Have the lantern ready to uncover, that we may be sure that it is indeed the
               man.’</p>
            <p>“The light had flickered onwards, now stopping and now advancing, until I could see
               two dark figures upon the other side of the moat. I let them scramble down the
               sloping bank, splash through the mire, and climb half-way up to the gate, before I
               challenged them.</p>
            <p>“‘Who goes there?’ said I, in a subdued voice.</p>
            <p>“‘Friends,’ came the answer. I uncovered my lantern and threw a flood of light upon
               them. The first was an enormous Sikh, with a black beard which swept nearly down to
               his cummerbund. Outside of a show I have never seen so tall a man. The other was a
               little, fat, round fellow, with a great yellow turban, and a bundle in his hand, done
               up in a shawl. He seemed to be all in a quiver with fear, for his hands twitched as
               if he had the ague, and his head kept turning to left and right with two bright
               little twinkling eyes, like a mouse when he ventures out from his hole. It gave me
               the chills to think of killing him, but I thought of the treasure, and my heart set
               as hard as a flint within me. When he saw my white face he gave a little chirrup of
               joy and came running up towards me.</p>
            <p>“‘Your protection, Sahib,’ he panted,—‘your protection for the unhappy merchant
               Achmet. I have travelled across Rajpootana that I might seek the shelter of the fort
               at <placeName type="tgn" key="7001493">Agra</placeName>. I have been robbed and beaten and abused because I have been the friend of
               the Company. It is a blessed night this when I am once more in safety,—I and my poor
               possessions.’</p>
            <p>“‘What have you in the bundle?’ I asked.</p>
            <p>“‘An iron box,’ he answered, ‘which contains one or two little family matters which
               are of no value to others, but which I should be sorry to lose. Yet I am not a
               beggar; and I shall reward you, young Sahib, and your governor also, if he will give
               me the shelter I ask.’</p>
            <p>“I could not trust myself to speak longer with the man. The more I looked at his fat,
               frightened face, the harder did it seem that we should slay him in cold blood. It was
               best to get it over.</p>
            <p>“‘Take him to the main guard,’ said I. The two Sikhs closed in upon him on each side,
               and the giant walked behind, while they marched in through the dark gateway. Never
               was a man so compassed round with death. I remained at the gateway with the
               lantern.</p>
            <p>“I could hear the measured tramp of their footsteps sounding through the lonely
               corridors. Suddenly it ceased, and I heard voices, and a scuffle, with the sound of
               blows. A moment later there came, to my horror, a rush of footsteps coming in my
               direction, with the loud breathing of a running man. I turned my lantern down the
               long, straight passage, and there was the fat man, running like the wind, with a
               smear of blood across his face, and close at his heels, bounding like a tiger, the
               great black-bearded Sikh, with a knife flashing in his hand. I have never seen a man
               run so fast as that little merchant. He was gaining on the Sikh, and I could see that
               if he once passed<pb n="215" facs="pageImages/215.jpg"/> me and got to the open air
               he would save himself yet. My heart softened to him, but again the thought of his
               treasure turned me hard and bitter. I cast my firelock between his legs as he raced
               past, and he rolled twice over like a shot rabbit. Ere he could stagger to his feet
               the Sikh was upon him, and buried his knife twice in his side. The man never uttered
               moan nor moved muscle, but lay were he had fallen. I think myself that he may have
               broken his neck with the fall. You see, gentlemen, that I am keeping my promise. I am
               telling you every work of the business just exactly as it happened, whether it is in
               my favour or not."</p>
            <p>He stopped, and held out his manacled hands for the whiskey-and-water which Holmes
               had brewed for him. For myself, I confess that I had now conceived the utmost horror
               of the man, not only for this cold-blooded business in which he had been concerned,
               but even more for the somewhat flippant and careless way in which he narrated it.
               Whatever punishment was in store for him, I felt that he might expect no sympathy
               from me. Sherlock Holmes and Jones sat with their hands upon their knees, deeply
               interested in the story, but with the same disgust written upon their faces. He may
               have observed it, for there was a touch of defiance in his voice and manner as he
               proceeded.</p>
            <p>“It was all very bad, no doubt," said he. “I should like to know how many fellows in
               my shoes would have refused a share of this loot when they knew that they would have
               their throats cut for their pains. Besides, it was my life or his when once he was in
               the fort. If he had got out, the whole business would come to light, and I should
               have been court-martialled and shot as likely as not; for people were not very
               lenient at a time like that."</p>
            <p>“Go on with your story," said Holmes, shortly.</p>
            <p>“Well, we carried him in, Abdullah, Akbar, and I. A fine weight he was, too, for all
               that he was so short. Mahomet Singh was left to guard the door. We took him to a
               place which the Sikhs had already prepared. It was some distance off, where a winding
               passage leads to a great empty hall, the brick walls of which were all crumbling to
               pieces. The earth floor had sunk in at one place, making a natural grave, so we left
               Achmet the merchant there, having first covered him over with loose bricks. This
               done, we all went back to the treasure.</p>
            <p>“It lay where he had dropped it when he was first attacked. The box was the same
               which now lies open upon your table. A key was hung by a silken cord to that carved
               handle upon the top. We opened it, and the light of the lantern gleamed upon a
               collection of gems such as I have read of and thought about when I was a little lad
               at Pershore. It was blinding to look upon them. When we had feasted our eyes we took
               them all out and made a list of them. There were one hundred and forty-three diamonds
               of the first water, including one which has been called, I believe, ‘<ref target="greatmogul_" corresp="greatmogul">‘the Great Mogul’</ref>
               <note xml:id="greatmogul" target="greatmogul_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">The
                  Great Mogul Diamond is the 3rd biggest diamond from India, brought to Iran in the
                  18th century by the Persian shah Nadir, weighing about 787 karats. Read more on
                  the <ref target="https://link.springer.com/referenceworkentry/10.1007/978-3-540-72816-0_9944">Dictionary of Gems and Gemology</ref>.</note> ’ and is said to be the second
               largest stone in existence. Then there were ninety-seven very fine emeralds, and one
               hundred and seventy rubies, some of which, however, were small. There were forty
               carbuncles, two hundred and ten sapphires, sixty-one agates, and a great quantity of
               beryls, onyxes, cats’-eyes, turquoises, and other stones, the very names of which I
               did not<pb n="216" facs="pageImages/216.jpg"/> know at the time, though I have become
               more familiar with them since. Besides this, there were nearly three hundred very
               fine pearls, twelve of which were set in a gold coronet. By the way, these last had
               been taken out of the chest and were not there when I recovered it.</p>
            <p>“After we had counted our treasures we put them back into the chest and carried them
               to the gateway to show them to Mahomet Singh. Then we solemnly renewed our oath to
               stand by each other and be true to our secret. We agreed to conceal our loot in a
               safe place until the country should be at peace again, and then to divide it equally
               among ourselves. There was no use dividing it at present, for if gems of such value
               were found upon us it would cause suspicion, and there was no privacy in the fort nor
               any place where we could keep them. We carried the box, therefore, into the same hall
               where we had buried the body, and there, under certain bricks in the best-preserved
               wall, we made a hollow and put our treasure. We made careful note of the place, and
               next day I drew four plans, one for each of us, and put the sign of the four of us at
               the bottom, for we had sworn that we should each always act for all, so that none
               might take advantage. That is an oath that I can put my hand to my heart and swear
               that I have never broken.</p>
            <p>“Well, there’s no use my telling you gentlemen what came of the Indian mutiny. After
               Wilson took Delhi and Sir Colin relieved Lucknow the back of the business was broken.
               Fresh troops came pouring in, and Nana Sahib made himself scarce over the frontier. A
               flying column under Colonel Greathed came round to <placeName type="tgn" key="7001493">Agra</placeName> and cleared the <ref target="pandies_" corresp="pandies">Pandies</ref>
               <note xml:id="pandies" target="pandies_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">A pandy
                  (plural: pandies), refers to Indian soldiers who took part in the rebellion of
                  1857, named after Mangal Pandey, who played a significant role in it. To read
                  more, see <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mangal_Pandey)">Wikipedia</ref>. The term is used in a derogatory way.</note> away from it.
               Peace seemed to be settling upon the country, and we four were beginning to hope that
               the time was at hand when we might safely go off with our shares of the plunder. In a
               moment, however, our hopes were shattered by our being arrested as the murderers of
               Achmet.</p>
            <p>“It came about in this way. When the rajah put his jewels into the hands of Achmet he
               did it because he knew that he was a trusty man. They are suspicious folk in the
               East, however: so what does this rajah do but take a second even more trusty servant
               and set him to play the spy upon the first? This second man was ordered never to let
               Achmet out of his sight, and he followed him like his shadow. He went after him that
               night and saw him pass through the doorway. Of course he thought he had taken refuge
               in the fort, and applied for admission there himself next day, but could find no
               trace of Achmet. This seemed to him so strange that he spoke about it to a sergeant
               of guides, who brought it to the ears of the commandant. A thorough search was
               quickly made, and the body was discovered. Thus at the very moment that we thought
               that all was safe we were all four seized and brought to trial on a charge of
               murder,—three of us because we had held the gate that night, and the fourth because
               he was known to have been in the company of the murdered man. Not a word about the
               jewels came out at the trial, for the rajah had been deposed and driven out of <placeName type="tgn" key="7000198"> India</placeName>:
               so no one had any particular interest in them. The murder, however, was clearly made
               out, and it was certain that we must all have been concerned in it. The three Sikhs
               got penal servitude<pb n="217" facs="pageImages/217.jpg"/> for life, and I was
               condemned to death, though my sentence was afterwards commuted into the same as the
               others.</p>
            <p>“It was rather a queer position that we found ourselves in then. There we were all
               four tied by the leg and with precious little chance of ever getting out again, while
               we each held a secret which might have put each of us in a palace if we could only
               have made use of it. It was enough to make a man eat his heart out to have to stand
               the kick and the cuff of every petty jack-in-office, to have rice to eat and water to
               drink, when that gorgeous fortune was ready for him outside, just waiting to be
               picked up. It might have driven me mad; but I was always a pretty stubborn one, so I
               just held on and bided my time.</p>
            <p>“At last it seemed to me to have come. I was changed from <placeName type="tgn" key="7001493">Agra</placeName> to <placeName type="tgn" key="7001562">Madras</placeName>, and from
               there to Blair Island in the <placeName type="tgn" key="1009838">Andamans</placeName>. There are very few white convicts at this
               settlement, and, as I had behaved well from the first, I soon found myself a sort of
               privileged person. I was given a hut in <placeName type="tgn" key="7572388">Hope Town</placeName>, which is a small place on the
               slopes of Mount Harriet, and I was left pretty much to myself. It is a dreary,
               fever-stricken place, and all beyond our little clearings was infested with wild
               cannibal natives, who were ready enough to blow a poisoned dart at us if they saw a
               chance. There was digging, and ditching, and yam-planting, and a dozen other things
               to be done, so we were busy enough all day; though in the evening we had a little
               time to ourselves. Among other things, I learned to dispense drugs for the surgeon,
               and picked up a smattering of his knowledge. All the time I was on the lookout for a
               chance of escape; but it is hundreds of miles from any other land, and there is
               little or no wind in those seas: so it was a terribly difficult job to get away.</p>
            <p>“The surgeon, Dr. Somerton, was a fast, sporting young chap, and the other young
               officers would meet in his rooms of an evening and play cards. The surgery, where I
               used to make up my drugs, was next to his sitting-room, with a small window between
               us. Often, if I felt lonesome, I used to turn out the lamp in the surgery, and then,
               standing there, I could hear their talk and watch their play. I am fond of a hand at
               cards myself, and it was almost as good as having one to watch the others. There was
               Major Sholto, Captain , and Lieutenant Bromley Brown, who were in command of the
               native troops, and there was the surgeon himself, and two or three prison-officials,
               crafty old hands who played a nice sly safe game. A very snug little party they used
               to make.</p>
            <p>“Well, there was one thing which very soon struck me, and that was that the soldiers
               used always to lose and the civilians to win. Mind, I don’t say that there was
               anything unfair, but so it was. These prison-chaps had done little else than play
               cards ever since they had been at the <placeName type="tgn" key="1009838">Andamans</placeName>, and they knew each other’s game to a
               point, while the others just played to pass the time and threw their cards down
               anyhow. Night after night the soldiers got up poorer men, and the poorer they got the
               more keen they were to play. Major Sholto was the hardest hit. He used to pay in
               notes and gold at first, but soon it came to notes of hand and for big sums. He
               sometimes would win for a few deals, just to give him heart, and then the luck would
               set in<pb n="218" facs="pageImages/218.jpg"/> against him worse than ever. All day he
               would wander about as black as thunder, and he took to drinking a deal more than was
               good for him.</p>
            <p>“One night he lost even more heavily than usual. I was sitting in my hut when he and
               Captain came stumbling along on the way to their quarters. They were bosom friends,
               those two, and never far apart. The major was raving about his losses.</p>
            <p>“‘It’s all up, ,’ he was saying, as they passed my hut. ‘I shall have to send in my
               papers. I am a ruined man.’</p>
            <p>“‘Nonsense, old chap!’ said the other, slapping him upon the shoulder. ‘I’ve had a
               nasty facer myself, but—’ That was all I could hear, but it was enough to set me
               thinking.</p>
            <p>“A couple of days later Major Sholto was strolling on the beach: so I took the chance
               of speaking to him.</p>
            <p>“‘I wish to have your advice, major,’ said I.</p>
            <p>“‘Well, Small, what is it?’ he asked, taking his cheroot from his lips.</p>
            <p>“‘I wanted to ask you, sir,’ said I, ‘who is the proper person to whom hidden
               treasure should be handed over. I know where half a million worth lies, and, as I
               cannot use it myself, I thought perhaps the best thing that I could do would be to
               hand it over to the proper authorities, and then perhaps they would get my sentence
               shortened for me.’</p>
            <p>“‘Half a million, Small?’ he gasped, looking hard at me to see if I was in
               earnest.</p>
            <p>“‘Quite that, sir,—in jewels and pearls. It lies there ready for any one. And the
               queer thing about it is that the real owner is outlawed and cannot hold property, so
               that it belongs to the first comer.’</p>
            <p>“‘To government, Small,’ he stammered,—‘to government.’ But he said it in a halting
               fashion, and I knew in my heart that I had got him.</p>
            <p>“‘You think, then, sir, that I should give the information to the Governor-General?’
               said I, quietly.</p>
            <p>“‘Well, well, you must not do anything rash, or that you might repent. Let me hear
               all about it, Small. Give me the facts.’</p>
            <p>“I told him the whole story, with small changes so that he could not identify the
               places. When I had finished he stood stock still and full of thought. I could see by
               the twitch of his lip that there was a struggle going on within him.</p>
            <p>“‘This is a very important matter, Small,’ he said, at last. ‘You must not say a word
               to any one about it, and I shall see you again soon.’</p>
            <p>“Two nights later he and his friend Captain came to my hut in the dead of the night
               with a lantern.</p>
            <p>“‘I want you just to let Captain hear that story from your own lips, Small,’ said
               he.</p>
            <p>“I repeated it as I had told it before.</p>
            <p>“‘It rings true, eh?’ said he. ‘It’s good enough to act upon?’</p>
            <p>“Captain nodded.</p>
            <p>“‘Look here, Small,’ said the major. ‘We have been talking it over, my friend here
               and I, and we have come to the conclusion that<pb n="219" facs="pageImages/219.jpg"/>
               this secret of yours is hardly a government matter, after all, but is a private
               concern of your own, which of course you have the power of disposing of as you think
               best. Now, the question is, what price would you ask for it? We might be inclined to
               take it up, and at least look into it, if we could agree as to terms.’ He tried to
               speak in a cool, careless way, but his eyes were shining with excitement and
               greed.</p>
            <p>“‘Why, as to that, gentlemen,’ I answered, trying also to be cool, but feeling as
               excited as he did, ‘there is only one bargain which a man in my position can make. I
               shall want you to help me to my freedom, and to help my three companions to theirs.
               We shall then take you into partnership, and give you a fifth share to divide between
               you.’</p>
            <p>“‘Hum!’ said he. ‘A fifth share! That is not very tempting.’</p>
            <p>“‘It would come to fifty thousand apiece,’ said I.</p>
            <p>“‘But how can we gain your freedom? You know very well that you ask an
               impossibility.’</p>
            <p>“‘Nothing of the sort,’ I answered. ‘I have thought it all out to the last detail.
               The only bar to our escape is that we can get no boat fit for the voyage, and no
               provisions to last us for so long a time. There are plenty of little yachts and yawls
               at <placeName type="tgn" key="7030776">Calcutta</placeName> or <placeName type="tgn" key="7001562">Madras</placeName> which would serve our turn well. Do you bring one over. We
               shall engage to get aboard her by night, and if you will drop us on any part of the
               Indian coast you will have done your part of the bargain.’</p>
            <p>“‘If there were only one,’ he said.</p>
            <p>“‘None or all,’ I answered. ‘We have sworn it. The four of us must always act
               together.’</p>
            <p>“‘You see, ,’ said he, ‘Small is a man of his word. He does not flinch from his
               friend. I think we may very well trust him.’</p>
            <p>“‘It’s a dirty business,’ the other answered. ‘Yet, as you say, the money would save
               our commissions handsomely.’</p>
            <p>“‘Well, Small,’ said the major, ‘we must, I suppose, try and meet you. We must first,
               of course, test the truth of your story. Tell me where the box is hid, and I shall
               get leave of absence and go back to India in the monthly relief-boat to inquire into
               the affair.’</p>
            <p>“‘Not so fast,’ said I, growing colder as he got hot. ‘I must have the consent of my
               three comrades. I tell you that it is four or none with us.’</p>
            <p>“‘Nonsense!’ he broke in. ‘What have three black fellows to do with our
               agreement?’</p>
            <p>“‘Black or blue,’ said I, ‘they are in with me, and we all go together.’</p>
            <p>“Well, the matter ended by a second meeting, at which Mahomet Singh, Abdullah Khan,
               and Dost Akbar were all present. We talked the matter over again, and at last we came
               to an arrangement. We were to provide both the officers with charts of the part of
               the<placeName type="tgn" key="7001493"> Agra</placeName> fort and mark the place in the wall where the treasure was hid. Major Sholto
               was to go to <placeName type="tgn" key="7000198">India</placeName> to test our story. If he found the box he was to leave it there,
               to send out a small yacht provisioned for a voyage, which was to lie off <placeName type="tgn" key="1008839">Rutland
               Island</placeName>, and to which we were to make our way, and finally to return to his duties.
               Captain was then to apply for leave of absence, to meet us at <placeName type="tgn" key="7001493">Agra</placeName>, and there we<pb n="220" facs="pageImages/220.jpg"/> were to have a final division of the treasure,
               he taking the major’s share as well as his own. All this we sealed by the most solemn
               oaths that the mind could think or the lips utter. I sat up all night with paper and
               ink, and by the morning I had the two charts all ready, signed with the sign of
               four,—that is, of Abdullah, Akbar, Mahomet, and myself.</p>
            <p>“Well, gentlemen, I weary you with my long story, and I know that my friend Mr. Jones
               is impatient to get me safely stowed in chokey. I’ll make it as short as I can. The
               villain Sholto went off to <placeName type="tgn" key="7000198">India</placeName>, but he never came back again. Captain showed me his
               name among a list of passengers in one of the mail-boats very shortly afterwards. His
               uncle had died, leaving him a fortune, and he had left the army, yet he could stoop
               to treat five men as he had treated us. went over to <placeName type="tgn" key="7001493">Agra</placeName> shortly afterwards, and
               found, as we expected, that the treasure was indeed gone. The scoundrel had stolen it
               all, without carrying out one of the conditions on which we had sold him the secret.
               From that day I lived only for vengeance. I thought of it by day and I nursed it by
               night. It became an overpowering, absorbing passion with me. I cared nothing for the
               law,—nothing for the gallows. To escape, to track down Sholto, to have my hand upon
               his throat,—that was my one thought. Even the Agra treasure had come to be a smaller
               thing in my mind than the slaying of Sholto.</p>
            <p>“Well, I have set my mind on many things in this life, and never one which I did not
               carry out. But it was weary years before my time came. I have told you that I had
               picked up something of medicine. One day when Dr. Somerton was down with a fever a
               little Andaman Islander was picked up by a convict-gang in the woods. He was sick to
               death, and had gone to a lonely place to die. I took him in hand, though he was as
               venomous as a young snake, and after a couple of months I got him all right and able
               to walk. He took a kind of fancy to me then, and would hardly go back to his woods,
               but was always hanging about my hut. I learned a little of his lingo from him, and
               this made him all the fonder of me.</p>
            <p>“Tonga—for that was his name—was a fine boatman, and owned a big, roomy canoe of his
               own. When I found that he was devoted to me and would do anything to serve me, I saw
               my chance of escape. I talked it over with him. He was to bring his boat round on a
               certain night to an old wharf which was never guarded, and there he was to pick me
               up. I gave him directions to have several gourds of water and a lot of yams,
               cocoa-nuts, and sweet potatoes.</p>
            <p>“He was stanch and true, was little Tonga. No man ever had a more faithful mate. At
               the night named he had his boat at the wharf. As it chanced, however, there was one
               of the convict-guard down there,—a vile Pathan who had never missed a chance of
               insulting and injuring me. I had always vowed vengeance, and now I had my chance. It
               was as if fate had placed him in my way that I might pay my debt before I left the
               island. He stood on the bank with his back to me, and his carbine on his shoulder. I
               looked about for a stone to beat out his brains with, but none could I see. Then a
               queer thought came into my head and showed me where I could lay my hand on a weapon.
                  I<pb n="221" facs="pageImages/221.jpg"/> sat down in the darkness and unstrapped
               my wooden leg. With three long hops I was on him. He put his carbine to his shoulder,
               but I struck him full, and knocked the whole front of his skull in. You can see the
               split in the wood now where I hit him. We both went down together, for I could not
               keep my balance, but when I got up I found him still lying quiet enough. I made for
               the boat, and in an hour we were well out at sea. Tonga had brought all his earthly
               possessions with him, his arms and his gods. Among other things, he had a long bamboo
               spear, and some Andaman cocoa-nut matting, with which I made a sort of sail. For ten
               days we were beating about, trusting to luck, and on the eleventh we were picked up
               by a trader which was going from Singapore to Jiddah with a cargo of Malay pilgrims.
               They were <ref target="rumcrowd_" corresp="rumcrowd">a rum crowd</ref>
               <note xml:id="rumcrowd" target="rumcrowd_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">According to a BBC News Magazine article<ref target="https://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-27405988">10 slang phrases that
                     perfectly sum up their era</ref>, "rum" could be used in the criminal beggar
                  world to mean something good, with 120+ possible meanings. </note>, and Tonga and
               I soon managed to settle down among them. They had one very good quality: they let
               you alone and asked no questions.</p>
            <p>“Well, if I were to tell you all the adventures that my little chum and I went
               through, you would not thank me, for I would have you here until the sun was shining.
               Here and there we drifted about the world, something always turning up to keep us
               from <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName>. All the time, however, I
               never lost sight of my purpose. I would dream of Sholto at night. A hundred times I
               have killed him in my sleep. At last, however, some three or four years ago, we found
               ourselves in <placeName type="tgn" key="7002445">England</placeName>. I had no great difficulty in finding where Sholto lived, and I
               set to work to discover whether he had realised the treasure, or if he still had it.
               I made friends with someone who could help me,—I name no names, for I don’t want to
               get any one else in a hole,—and I soon found that he still had the jewels. Then I
               tried to get at him in many ways; but he was pretty sly, and had always two
               prize-fighters, besides his sons and his khitmutgar, on guard over him.</p>
            <p>“One day, however, I got word that he was dying. I hurried at once to the garden, mad
               that he should slip out of my clutches like that, and, looking through the window, I
               saw him lying in his bed, with his sons on each side of him. I’d have come through
               and taken my chance with the three of them, only even as I looked at him his jaw
               dropped, and I knew that he was gone. I got into his room that same night, though,
               and I searched his papers to see if there was any record of where he had hidden our
               jewels. There was not a line, however: so I came away, bitter and savage as a man
               could be. Before I left I bethought me that if I ever met my Sikh friends again it
               would be a satisfaction to know that I had left some mark of our hatred; so I
               scrawled down the sign of the four of us, as it had been on the chart, and I pinned
               it on his bosom. It was too much that he should be taken to the grave without some
               token from the men whom he had robbed and befooled.</p>
            <p>“We earned a living at this time by my <ref target="exhibiting_" corresp="exhibiting">exhibiting</ref>
               <note xml:id="exhibiting" target="exhibiting_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#GG">As the British Empire expanded throughout the 19th century, museums were built to
                  showcase material and cultural items, curiosities, things from nature, etc. for
                  public consumption. This included people from various ethnicities that were
                  unfamiliar to everyday British citizens. To read more about this practice, see
                     <ref target="https://www.fromlocaltoglobal.co.uk/exhibiting-people">"Exhibiting
                     People in the 19th Century"</ref> by Sarah Longair .</note> poor Tonga at fairs
               and other such places as the black cannibal. He would eat raw meat and dance his
               war-dance: so we always had a hatful of pennies after a day’s work. I still heard all
               the news from Pondicherry Lodge, and for some years there was no news to hear, except
               that they were hunting for the treasure. At last, however, came what we had<pb n="222" facs="pageImages/222.jpg"/> waited for so long. The treasure had been
               found. It was up at the top of the house, in Mr. Bartholomew Sholto’s chemical
               laboratory. I came at once and had a look at the place, but I could not see how with
               my wooden leg I was to make my way up to it. I learned, however, about a trap-door in
               the roof, and also about Mr. Sholto’s supper-hour. It seemed to me that I could
               manage the thing easily through Tonga. I brought him out with me with a long rope
               wound round his waist. He could climb like a cat, and he soon made his way through
               the roof, but, as ill luck would have it, Bartholomew Sholto was still in the room,
               to his cost. Tonga thought he had done something very clever in killing him, for when
               I came up by the rope I found him strutting about as proud as a peacock. Very much
               surprised was he when I made at him with the rope’s end and cursed him for a little
               blood-thirsty imp. I took the treasure-box and let it down, and then slid down
               myself, having first left the sign of the four upon the table, to show that the
               jewels had come back at last to those who had most right to them. Tonga then pulled
               up the rope, closed the window, and made off the way that he had come.</p>
            <p>“I don’t know that I have anything else to tell you. I had heard a waterman speak of
               the speed of Smith’s launch the Aurora, so I thought she would be a handy craft for
               our escape. I engaged with old Smith, and was to give him a big sum if he got us safe
               to our ship. He knew, no doubt, that there was some screw loose, but he was not in
               our secrets. All this is the truth, and if I tell it to you, gentlemen, it is not to
               amuse you,—for you have not done me a very good turn,—but it is because I believe the
               best defence I can make is just to hold back nothing, but let all the world know how
               badly I have myself been served by Major Sholto, and how innocent I am of the death
               of his son."</p>
            <p>“A very remarkable account," said Sherlock Holmes. “A fitting wind-up to an extremely
               interesting case. There is nothing at all new to me in the latter part of your
               narrative, except that you brought your own rope. That I did not know. By the way, I
               had hoped that Tonga had lost all his darts; yet he managed to shoot one at us in the
               boat."</p>
            <p>“He had lost them all, sir, except the one which was in his blow-pipe at the
               time."</p>
            <p>“Ah, of course," said Holmes. “I had not thought of that."</p>
            <p>“Is there any other point which you would like to ask about?" asked the convict,
               affably.</p>
            <p>“I think not, thank you," my companion answered.</p>
            <p>“Well, Holmes," said Athelney Jones, “You are a man to be humoured, and we all know
               that you are a connoisseur of crime, but duty is duty, and I have gone rather far in
               doing what you and your friend asked me. I shall feel more at ease when we have our
               story-teller here safe under lock and key. The cab still waits, and there are two
               inspectors downstairs. I am much obliged to you both for your assistance. Of course
               you will be wanted at the trial. Good-night to you."</p>
            <p>“Good-night, gentlemen both," said Jonathan Small.</p>
            <pb n="223" facs="pageImages/223.jpg"/>
            <p>“You first, Small," remarked the wary Jones as they left the room. “I’ll take
               particular care that you don’t club me with your wooden leg, whatever you may have
               done to the gentleman at the <placeName type="tgn" key="1009838">Andaman Isles</placeName>."</p>
            <p>“Well, and there is the end of our little drama," I remarked, after we had set some
               time smoking in silence. “I fear that it may be the last investigation in which I
               shall have the chance of studying your methods. Miss has done me the honour to accept
               me as a husband <ref target="inprospective_" corresp="inprospective">in
                  prospective</ref>
               <note xml:id="inprospective" target="inprospective_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">in the future (OED)</note>."</p>
            <p>He gave a most dismal groan. “I feared as much," said he. “I really cannot
               congratulate you."</p>
            <p>I was a little hurt. “Have you any reason to be dissatisfied with my choice?" I
               asked.</p>
            <p>“Not at all. I think she is one of the most charming young ladies I ever met, and
               might have been most useful in such work as we have been doing. She had a decided
               genius that way: witness the way in which she preserved that Agra plan from all the
               other papers of her father. But love is an emotional thing, and whatever is emotional
               is opposed to that true cold reason which I place above all things. I should never
               marry myself, lest I bias my judgment."</p>
            <p>“I trust," said I, laughing, “that my judgment may survive the ordeal. But you look
               weary."</p>
            <p>“Yes, the reaction is already upon me. I shall be as limp as a rag for a week."</p>
            <p>“Strange," said I, “how terms of what in another man I should call laziness alternate
               with your fits of splendid energy and vigour."</p>
            <p>“Yes," he answered, “there are in me the makings of a very fine loafer and also of a
               pretty spry sort of fellow. I often think of those lines of old Goethe,—</p>
            <p>
                            <quote>
               <ref target="lavater_" corresp="lavater">
                  Schade dass die Natur nur einen Mensch aus Dir schuf,<lb/> Denn zum würdigen
                     Mann war und zum Schelmen der Stoff.
               </ref>
               <note xml:id="lavater" target="lavater_" resp="editors.xml#TH" type="editorial">This
                  quote is often incorrectly attributed to Goethe's <hi rend="italic">Faust</hi>.
                  While it is Goethe's language, it is a description of Goethe's friend, <ref target="https://www.mod-langs.ox.ac.uk/oxford-polyglot/2017-18/1/goethe-lavater-and-enlightenment">Johan Kaspar Lavater</ref>, a clergyman. The text translates to "Pity 'tis,
                  when thou wast born, that but one man nature created! / Stuff for a gentleman is,
                  and fro a scoundrel in thee." For the source and translation, see <ref target="https://books.google.com/books?id=OuWsPLY1ccgC">"Goethe and Lavater,"
                        <hi rend="italic">The Hibbert Journal</hi> (200)</ref>.</note>
            </quote>
                        </p>
            <p>“By the way, <ref target="apropos_" corresp="apropos">à propos</ref>
               <note xml:id="apropos" target="apropos_" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#GG">with
                  regard to (French). (OED)</note> of this <placeName type="tgn" key="7029209">Norwood</placeName> business, you see that they had, as I surmised, a confederate
               in the house, who could be none other than Lal Rao, the butler: so Jones actually has
               the undivided honour of having caught one fish in his great haul."</p>
            <p>“The division seems rather unfair," I remarked. “You have done all the work in this
               business. I get a wife out of it, Jones gets the credit, pray what remains for
               you?"</p>
            <p>“For me," said Sherlock Holmes, “there still remains the cocaine-bottle." And he
               stretched his long white hand up for it.</p>
         </div>
         
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                        <trailer>THE END.</trailer>
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                    Articles of Peace Between the Most Serene and Mighty Prince Charles II and Several Indian Kings and Queens ["The Treaty of Middle Plantation"]
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                    <addrLine> Bryan Hall 219 </addrLine>
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                    <addrLine> Charlottesville, VA 22904-4121 </addrLine>
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                <biblStruct>
                    <monogr>
                        <author>
                            <forename>Charles</forename>
                            <surname>Stuart</surname>
                        </author>
                        <title>ARTICLES OF PEACE Between The Most Serene and Mighty PRINCE CHARLES
                            II. By the Grace of God, King of England, Scotland, France and Ireland,
                            Defender of the Faith, etc. And Several Indian Kings and Queens, etc.</title>
                        <imprint>
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                                <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName>
                            </pubPlace>
                            <publisher>Printed by John Bill, Christopher Barker, Thomas Newcomb and
                                Henry Hills, Printers to the Kings Most Excellent Majesty.</publisher>
                            <date when="1677">1677</date>
                            <note>The information in this edition has been augmented by a PDF of the first edition at <ref target="https://digitalarchive.wm.edu/bitstream/handle/10288/16654/ArticlesOfPeace.pdf">https://digitalarchive.wm.edu/bitstream/handle/10288/16654/ArticlesOfPeace.pdf</ref>
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                    <p>Research informing these annotations draws on publicly-accessible resources,
                        with links provided where possible. Annotations have also included common
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                        sources. If you notice an error in these annotations, please contact
                        lic.open.anthology@gmail.com. </p>
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    <text>
        <front>
            <pb n="[Title Page]" facs="pageImages/Stuart-title.jpg"/>
            <titlePage>
                <docTitle>
                    <titlePart>
                                <ref target="treaty_" corresp="treaty">ARTICLES <lb/> OF <lb/> PEACE <lb/> Between <lb/> The Most Serene
                        and Mighty PRINCE <lb/> CHARLES II.</ref> <lb/>
                    </titlePart>
                    <titlePart>By the Grace of God, <lb/> King of England, Scotland, France and
                        Ireland, <lb/> Defender of the Faith, etc. <lb/>
                    </titlePart>
                    <titlePart>And Several <lb/> <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> Kings and Queens, etc. <lb/>
                    </titlePart>
                    <titlePart> Concluded the 29th day of May, 1677. <lb/>
                    </titlePart>
                    <titlePart>Published by his Majesties Command.<lb/>
                            </titlePart>
                        </docTitle>
                        <docAuthor/>
                <docImprint>
                    <pubPlace>
                        <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London,<lb/>
                                </placeName>
                    </pubPlace>
                    <publisher>Printed by <persName>John Bill,</persName>
                        <persName>Christopher Barker,</persName>
                        <persName>Thomas Newcomb</persName>
                                <lb/> and <persName>Henry Hills,</persName>
                        Printers to the Kings<lb/> Most Excellent Majesty <lb/>
                            </publisher>           
                <docDate>1677.</docDate>
                </docImprint>
            </titlePage>
        </front>

        <body>
            <div>
                <pb n="3" facs="pageImages/Stuart-p3.jpg"/>
                <p> Articles of Peace between the most Mighty Prince, and our Dread Sovereign Lord
                    CHARLES the Second, by the Grace of God, King of Great Britain, France and
                    Ireland, Defender of the Faith, etc. And the several <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> Kings and Queens,
                    etc. Assenters and Subscribers hereunto, made and concluded at the Camp at
                    Middle Plantation the Twenty ninth day of May 1677. being the day of the most
                    <ref target="birthday_" corresp="birthday">happy Birth and Restauration of our said Sovereign Lord</ref>, and in the Nine and twentieth Year of His Majesties Reign, By the Right Honourable Herbert Jefferies
                    Esquire, Lieutenant Governour of His Majesties Colony of Virginia. </p>
                <p> Present, </p>
                <p> The Honourable Sir John Berry Knight, and Francis Morison Esq; His most Sacred
                    Majesties Comissioners appointed under the Great Seal of England for the Affairs
                    of Virginia, </p>
                <p> And The Honourable Council of State of the said Colony. </p>
                <p> Whereas His most Sacred Majesty hath of His Own Royal Grace and meer Motion
                    Intrusted to my Care and Endeavours the<pb n="4" facs="pageImages/Stuart-p4.jpg"/> Renewing, Management, and
                    Concluding a good Peace with the Neighbour <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>s: In Order whereunto (with the
                    Advice and Assistance of the Honourable Sir John Berry Knight, and Francis
                    Morison Esquire) I have caused to be drawn up these ensuing Articles and
                    Overtures, for the firm Grounding, and sure Establishment of a good and just
                    Peace with the said <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>s. And that it may be a Secure and Lasting one
                    (Founded upon the strong Pillars of Reciprocal Justice) by Confirming to them
                    their Just Rights, and by Redress of their Wrongs and Injuries, That so the
                    great God (who is a God of Peace, and lover of Justice) may uphold and prosper
                    this our Mutual League and Amity, It is hereby Concluded, Consented to, and
                    mutually Agreed, as followeth; </p>
                <pb n="5" facs="pageImages/Stuart-p5.jpg"/>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub">Artic. I.</head>
                <p> That the respective <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> Kings and Queens do from henceforth acknowledge to
                    have their immediate Dependency on, and own all Subjection to the Great King of
                    England, our now Dread Sovereign, His Heirs and Sucessors, when they pay their
                    Tribute to His Majesties Governour for the time being. </p>
                        </div>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub"> II. </head>
                <p> That thereupon the said <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> Kings and Queens and their Subjects, shall hold
                    their Lands, and have the same Confirmed to them and their Posterity, by Patent
                    under the Seal of this His Majesties Colony, without any Fee, Gratuity or Reward
                    for the same, in such sort, and in as free and firm manner as others His
                    Majesties Subjects have and enjoy their Lands and Possessions, paying<pb n="6" facs="pageImages/Stuart-p6.jpg"/>
                    yearly for and in lieu of a Quit Rent, or Acknowledgment for the same, onely
                    Three <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> Arrows. </p>
                        </div>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub"> III. </head>
                <p> That all <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>s who are in Amity with Us, and have not Land sufficient to Plant
                    upon, be (upon Information) forthwith provided for, and Land laid out and
                    Confirmed to them as aforesaid, never to be disturbed therein, or taken from
                    them, so long as they own, keep and maintain their due Obedience and Subjection
                    to His Majesty, His Governour and Government, and Amity and Friendship towards
                    the <hi rend="italic">English</hi>. </p>
                        </div>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub"> IV. </head>
                <p> Whereas by the mutual Discontents, Complaints, Jealousies and Fears of <hi rend="italic">English</hi>
                    and <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>s, occasioned by the Violent Intrusions of divers <hi rend="italic">English</hi> into their
                    Lands, forcing the <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>s by way of Revenge, to kill the Cattel and Hogs of the <hi rend="italic">English</hi>,<pb n="7" facs="pageImages/Stuart-p7.jpg"/>
                    whereby Offence and Injuries being given and done on
                    both sides, the Peace of this His Majesties Colony hath been much disturbed, and
                    the late unhappy Rebellion by this means (in a great measure) begun and
                    fomented, which hath Involved this Countrey into so much Ruine and Misery: For
                    prevention of which Injuries and evil consequences (as much as possibly we may)
                    for time to come; It is hereby Concluded and Established, That no <hi rend="italic">English</hi> shall
                    Seat or Plant nearer than Three miles of any <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> Town; and whosoever hath
                    made, or shall make any Incroachment upon their Lands, shall be removed from
                    thence, and proceeded against as by the former Peace made, when the Honourable
                    Colonel Francis Morison was Governour, and the Act of Assembly grounded
                    thereupon, is Provided and Enacted. </p>
                        </div>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub"> V. </head>
                <p> That the said <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>s be well Secured and Defended in their Persons, Goods and Properties,<pb n="8" facs="pageImages/Stuart-p8.jpg"/> 
                    against all hurts and injuries of the <hi rend="italic">English</hi>; and
                    that upon any breach or violation, hereof the aggrieved <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>s do in the first
                    place repair and Address themselves to the Governour, acquainting him therewith
                    (without rashly and suddenly betaking themselves to any Hostile course for
                    Satisfaction) who will Inflict such Punishment on the wilful Infringers hereof,
                    as the Laws of England or this Countrey permit, and as if such hurt or injury
                    had been done to any <hi rend="italic">English</hi>man; which is but just and reasonable, they owning
                    themselves to be under the Allegiance of His most Sacred Majesty. </p>
                        </div>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub"> VI. </head>
                <p> That no <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> King or Queen be Imprisoned without a special Warrant from His
                    Majesties Governour and Two of the Council, and that no other <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> be
                    Imprisoned without a Warrant from a Justice of Peace, upon sufficient cause of
                    Commitment </p>
                        </div>
                <pb n="9" facs="pageImages/Stuart-p9.jpg"/>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub"> VII. </head>
                <p> That the said <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>s have and enjoy their wonted conveniences of Oystering,
                    Fishing, and gathering <ref target="tuckahoe_" corresp="tuckahoe">Tuchahoe</ref>, <ref target="curtenemons_" corresp="curtenemons">Curtenemons</ref>, Wild Oats, Rushes, <ref target="puckoone_" corresp="puckoone">Puckoone</ref>, or
                    any thing else (for their natural support) not useful to the <hi rend="italic">English</hi>, upon the
                    <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Dividends; Always provided they first repair to some Publick Magistrate
                    of good Repute, and inform him of their number and business, who shall not
                    refuse them a Certificate upon this or any other Lawful occasion, so that they
                    make due return thereof when they come back, and go directly home about their
                    business, without wearing or carrying any manner of Weapon, or lodging under any
                    <hi rend="italic">English</hi>mans Dwelling-house one night. </p>
                        </div>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub"> VIII. </head>
                <p> That no Foreign <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> be suffered to come to any <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Plantation without a
                    friendly neighbor <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> in his company with such<pb n="10" facs="pageImages/Stuart-p10.jpg"/> Certificate as
                    aforesaid: and no <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> King is to refuse to send a safe Conduct with the
                    Foreigner, upon any Lawful occasion of his coming in, and that no <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> do
                    paint or disguise themselves when they come in. </p>
                        </div>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub"> IX. </head>
                <p> That all <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> Kings and Queens Tributary to the <hi rend="italic">English</hi>, having notice of any
                    March of strange <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>s near the <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Quarters or Plantations, do forthwith
                    repair to some one of the next Officers of the Militia, and acquaint him of
                    their Nation, number, and design, and which way they bend their course. </p>
                        </div>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub"> X. </head>
                <p> That if necessary, a convenient Party be presently sent out by the next Colonel
                    of the Militia, to Aid, Strengthen, and joyn with our friendly <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>s against
                    any Foreign Attempt, Incursion or Depredation upon the <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> Towns. </p>
                        </div>
                <pb n="11" facs="pageImages/Stuart-p11.jpg"/>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub"> XI. </head>
                <p> That every <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> fit to bear Arms, of the Neighbouring Nations in Peace with
                    us, have such quantity of Powder and Shot allotted him, as the Right Honourable
                    the Governour shall think sufficient on any occasion, and that such numbers of
                    them be ready to go out with out Forces upon any March against the Enemy, and to
                    receive such Pay for their good Services, as shall be thought fit. </p>
                        </div>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub"> XII. </head>
                <p> That each <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> King and Queen have equal Power to Govern their own People, and
                    none to have greater Power then other, Except the Queen of Pamunkey, to whom
                    several scattered Nations do now again own their ancient Subjection, and are
                    agreed to come in and Plant themselves under her Power and Government; Who with
                    her, are also hereby included into this present<pb n="12" facs="pageImages/Stuart-p12.jpg"/> League and Treaty of
                    Peace, and are to keep and observe the same towards the said Queen in all
                    things, as her Subjects, as well as towards the <hi rend="italic">English</hi>. </p>
                        </div>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub"> XIII. </head>
                <p> That no person whatsoever shall entertain or keep any Neighbouring <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> as
                    Servant, or otherwise, but by Licence of the Governour, and to be upon
                    Obligation answerable for all Injuries and Damages by him or them happening to
                    be done to any <hi rend="italic">English</hi>. </p>
                        </div>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub"> XIV. </head>
                <p> That no <hi rend="italic">English</hi> harbour or entertain any Vagrant or Runaway <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>, but convey
                    him home by way of Pass, from Justice to Justice to his own Town, under Penalty
                    of paying so much per day for harbouring him, as by the Law for entertaining of
                    Runaways is recoverable. </p>
                        </div>
                <pb n="13" facs="pageImages/Stuart-p13.jpg"/>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub"> XV. </head>
                <p> That no <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> (of those in Amity with us) shall serve for any longer time then
                    <hi rend="italic">English</hi> of the like Ages should serve by Act of Assembly, and shall not be sold
                    as Slaves. </p>
                        </div>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub"> XVI. </head>
                <p> That every <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> King and Queen in the Moneth of March every year, with some of
                    their Great Men, shall tender their Obedience to the Right Honourable His
                    Majesties Governour at the place of his Residence, whereever it shall be, and
                    then and there pay the accustomed Tribute of Twenty Beaver Skins to the
                    Governour, and also their Quit-Rent aforesaid, in acknowledgment they hold their
                    Crowns and Lands of the Great King of England. </p>
                        </div>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub"> XVII. </head>
                <p> That due care be had and taken that those <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> Kings and Queens, their Great
                    Men and Attendants that come on any Publick<pb n="14" facs="pageImages/Stuart-p14.jpg"/> Business to the Right
                    Honourable the Governour, Council or Assembly, may be accommodated with
                    Provisions and Houseroom at the Publick Charge, and that no <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Subject
                    shall abuse, revile, hurt or wrong them at any time in word or deed. </p>
                        </div>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub"> XVIII. </head>
                <p> That upon the Discord or Breach of Peace happening to arise between any of the
                    <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>s in Amity with the <hi rend="italic">English</hi>, upon the first appearance and beginning
                    thereof, and before they enter into any open Acts of Hostility or War one
                    against another, they shall repair to His Majesties Governour, by whose Justice
                    and Wisdom it is concluded such Difference shall be made up and decided, and to
                    whose final Determination the said <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>s shall submit and conform themselves. </p>
                        </div>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub"> XIX. </head>
                <p> That for the preventing the frequent mischiefs<pb n="15" facs="pageImages/Stuart-p15.jpg"/> and mistakes
                    occasioned by unfaithful and corrupt Interpreters, and for the more safety,
                    satisfaction, and advantage both of the <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>s and <hi rend="italic">English</hi>, That there be one
                    of each Nation of our Neighbouring <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>s that can already speak, or may become
                    capable of speaking <hi rend="italic">English</hi>, admitted together with those of the <hi rend="italic">English</hi>, to be
                    their own Interpreters. </p>
                        </div>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub"> XX. </head>
                <p> That the several <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>s concluded in this Peace, do forthwith restore to the
                    respective <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Parents and Owners all such Children, Servants and Horses,
                    which they have at any time taken from them, and are now remaining with them the
                    said <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>s, or which they can make discovery of. </p>
                        </div>
                <div type="article">
                            <head type="sub"> XXI. </head>
                <p> That the Trade with the said <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>s be continued, limited, restrained or laid
                    open, as shall make best for the Peace and Quiet<pb n="16" facs="pageImages/Stuart-p16.jpg"/> of the Countrey;
                    upon which Affair the Governour will consult with the Council and Assembly, and
                    conclude thereon at their next meeting. </p>
                        </div>
                <!-- The following text is accompanied by several signatures unable to rendered conventionally via text. The facsimile should solve the issue, but I'm noting it here for future reference -->
                <p> The Sign of the Queen of Pamunkey, on behalf of her self and the several <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>s
                    under her Subjection. </p>
                <p> The Sign of the Queen of Waonoke. </p>
                <p> The Sign of the King of the Nottoways. </p>
                <p> The Sign of the King of the Nancymond <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>s. </p>
                <p> The Sign of Captain John West. Son to the Queen of Pamunkey. </p>
                <p>Convenit cum Originali.</p>
                <p>Test. Tho. Ludwell Secretary.</p>
                <pb n="17" facs="pageImages/Stuart-p17.jpg"/>
                <p> Memorandum the 29th day of May, 1677. </p>
                <p> That this Instrument of Peace being Read and Expounded to the several <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>
                    Kings and Queens then present (at the Court at Middle Plantation) by
                    Interpreters Sworn truly to perform the same, the said <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> Kings and Queens
                    Signed and delivered the Articles to the Honourable Governour upon their Knees,
                    and received that other part, Signed and Delivered on behalf of the Kings
                    Majesty, in the same posture of kneeling, of their own accords kissing the Paper
                    as they Transferred it from hand to hand to each other, until every one had done
                    the like Mark of Reverence to it, in sign of a most free and joyful acceptance
                    of this Peace concluded with them. At the same time Pericuhtah King of the
                    Appomatucks being then present, did earnestly desire to be admitted to the
                    Signing this Peace with the rest; but he being suspected and Complained of to
                    have Committed by himself or Subjects<pb n="18" facs="pageImages/Stuart-p18.jpg"/> some Murthers on His Majesties
                    Subjects of England, was not admitted or included into this League at that time,
                    nor is to partake of the benefit of this Peace, before he shall have cleared
                    himself of this Guilt imputed to him, and Committed since His Majesties
                    Commissioners came into Virginia, as they were credibly informed: Which
                    Exemption gave the <hi rend="italic">English</hi> general satisfaction, to find there was so just
                    Inquisition made of the Bloud of their Slaughtered Brethren. </p>
                <closer>
                    <signed> John Berry, Francis Morison </signed>
                </closer>
            </div>
        </body>
        <back>
            <div>
            <closer>
                <placeName>London
                </placeName>
                <signed> Printed by <persName>John Bill,</persName>
                    <persName>Christopher Barker,</persName>
                    <persName>Thomas Newcomb</persName> and <persName>Henry Hills,</persName>
                    Printers to the Kings Most Excellent Majesty </signed>        
            <date> 1677. </date>
            </closer>
            </div>
            <div>
            <note type="editorial" xml:id="treaty" target="treaty_" resp="editors.xml#JOB">
                <p>This document, most typically remembered as the “Treaty of Middle Plantation,” after the place where it was ratified (the site of present-day Williamsburg, Virginia) was signed in May 1677 by the governor representing the English colonial government and the leaders of several indigenous tribes, primarily the Pamunkey and Mattaponi, to bring an end to a series of conflicts between the English settlers and the native people of the region. The conflicts are most often referred to as <ref target="https://encyclopediavirginia.org/entries/bacon-nathaniel-1647-1676/">“Bacon’s Rebellion”</ref> after the English settler Nathaniel Bacon, who in 1676 led attacks against native groups and then an armed uprising against William Berkeley, then the English governor, and his administration. The Rebellion is a complicated and often ugly story, but a key component was that Bacon and the colonists who joined him in rising up against their own government, argued that Berkeley was not sufficiently brutal to the native American population in the area, which Bacon wished to eliminate completely to clear land for settlement by English colonists. Bacon’s uprising exposed divisions with the colonists between the elite members of the government (which was in favor of promoting the intersts of settlers but not interest in sparking conflict with the native people) and the farmers, indentured servants, and also some enslaved African people who fought on Bacon’s side. But the conflict also exposed and exacerbated divisions with the local indigenous nations. Bacon and his followers burned the colonial capital of Jamestown down, but he died of unexpectedly of dysentery in October 1676. The rebellion lost its momentum with the loss of its leader. The British government restored order and executed some of the other central figures in the uprising. Berkeley, who seemed unable to please anybody, was relieved of his office and went back to England, where he died in July 1677. The English king, Charles II, sent a commission consisting of John Berry and Francis Morison to investigate the situation, as well as a new governor, Herbert Jeffreys, to replace the discredited Berkeley.</p>
                
                <p>The treaty to establish a durable peace was largely negotiated between the commissioners and a group of natives led by the Pamunkey leader Cockacoeske, who had become the most prominent representative of the indigenous people in the region. (We follow convention in identifying the “author” of the treaty as Charles Stuart or Charles II, as all royal proclamations and treaties were credited to him, but the terms were worked out on the ground, using language that followed legal and diplomatic precedent.) Under the terms of the treaty, the native peoples avowed their loyalty to the English crown. In return, the different tribes were recognized as sovereign over their own citizens, and were granted various kinds of protection against future attempts at violence against them by English settlers. Colonists were, for example, not allowed to claim any land within three miles of a native village. This in effect established the first reservations for indigenous people in territory that was becoming increasingly dominated by the English. The treaty also consolidated Cockacoeske, the “Queen of Pamunkey,” as the leader of the indigenous people of the area, insisting that other tribes declare their allegiance to her.</p>
                
               <p>The native people probably had reason to regret the terms of the treaty. English settlers often ignored the three-mile rule, and Cockacoeske had mixed success in getting other indigenous leaders to acknowledge her authority. But the Treaty of Middle Plantation remains in force to this day. Representatives of the Mattaponi and Pamunky people <ref target="https://www.wvtf.org/news/2021-11-24/mattaponi-and-pamunkey-fulfill-1677-treaty-obligations-at-governors-mansion">bring gifts such as turkey and deer to the Governor of Virginia</ref> each year, usually around Thanksgiving, in symbolic fulfillment of their obligations for the "tribute" called for by the treaty. In theory, the Treaty of Middle Plantation protected indigenous people from acts of violence and codified their sovereignty, something that Bacon and his followers would not have accepted. But the document is also one of many that marks the long history of the displacement of native people in the Americas from the lands that they had lived on for many centuries.</p>
                        </note>
                <note type="editorial" xml:id="birthday" target="birthday_" resp="editors.xml#JOB">May 29th was indeed the birthday of Charles II, as well as the anniversary of the day that he had been restored to the <hi rend="italic">English</hi> throne in 1660. It is impossible to know whether this is a coincidence, or whether the <hi rend="italic">English</hi> commissioners planned the treaty signing to occur on a day that they knew that their boss considered to be an auspicious one.</note>
                <note type="editorial" xml:id="tuckahoe" target="tuckahoe_" resp="editors.xml#JOB">Tuckahoe is a generic name for a number of marsh grasses that indigenous people used for food and medicine.</note>
                <note type="editorial" xml:id="curtenemons" target="curtenemons_" resp="editors.xml#JOB">Curtunemons is the Pamunkey word for the plant that English speakers usually call "dock"; it's a green that can be used fresh in salads or cooked.</note>
                <note type="editorial" xml:id="puckoone" target="puckoone_" resp="editors.xml#JOB">A Pamunkey word for a plant that the indigenous people used to make a dye for clothes.</note>
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      <front>
         <pb n="[TP]" facs="pageImages/VIN-TP.jpg"/>
         <titlePage>
            <docTitle>
               <titlePart>
                  <lb/> A <lb/> VINDICATION <lb/> OF THE <lb/> RIGHTS OF WOMAN: <lb/> WITH <lb/>
                  STRICTURES <lb/> ON <lb/> POLITICAL AND MORAL SUBJECTS <lb/>
                            </titlePart>
            </docTitle>
            <docAuthor>BY <ref target="wollstonecraft_" corresp="wollstonecraft">MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT</ref>
                        </docAuthor>
            <docImprint>
                            <lb/>
                            <pubPlace>LONDON:</pubPlace>
                            <lb/>
                            <publisher>
                                <ref target="johnson_" corresp="johnson">PRINTED FOR J. JOHNSON,
               No.71, ST. PAUL’S CHURCH YARD.</ref>
                            </publisher>
                            <lb/>
                        </docImprint>
            <docDate>1792. </docDate>
         </titlePage>

      </front>
      <body>
         <pb n="1" facs="pageImages/VIN-1.jpg"/>
         <div type="chapter">
            <head>INTRODUCTION</head>
            <p>AFTER considering the historic page, and viewing the living world with anxious
               solicitude, the most melancholy emotions of sorrowful indignation have depressed my
               spirits, and I have sighed when obligated to confess, that either nature has made a
               great difference between man and man, or that the civilization which has hitherto
               taken place in the world has been very partial. I have turned over various books
               written on the subject of education, and patiently observed the conduct of parents
               and the <ref target="education_" corresp="education">management of schools</ref>; but what has
               been the result? --a profound conviction that the neglected education of my
               fellow-creatures is the grand source of the misery I deplore; and that women, in
               particular, are rendered weak and wretched by a variety of concurring causes,
               originating from a hasty conclusion. The conduct and manners of women, in fact,
               evidently prove <pb n="2" facs="pageImages/VIN-2.jpg"/> that their minds are not in a
               healthy state; for, like the flowers which are planted in too rich a soil, strength
               and usefulness are sacrificed to beauty; and the flaunting leaves, after having
               pleased a fastidious eye, fade, disregarded on the stalk, long before the season when
               they ought to have arrived at maturity.--One cause of this barren blooming I
               attribute to a false system of education, gathered from the books written on this
               subject by men, who considering females rather than human creatures, have been more
               anxious to make them alluring mistresses than rational wives; and the understanding
               of sex has been so <ref target="bubbled_" corresp="bubbled">bubbled</ref> by this specious
               homage, that the civilized women of the present century, with a few exceptions, are
               only anxious to inspire love, when they ought to cherish a nobler ambition, and by
               their abilities and virtues exact respect.</p>
            <p>In a treatise, therefore, on female rights and manners, <ref target="conduct_" corresp="conduct">the works which have been particularly written for their
                  improvement</ref> must not be overlooked; especially when it is asserted, in
               direct terms, that the minds of women are enfeebled by false refinement; <pb n="3" facs="pageImages/VIN-3.jpg"/> that the books of instruction, written by men of
               genius, have had the same tendency as more frivolous productions; and that, in the
               true style of <ref target="mahometanism_" corresp="mahometanism">Mahometanism</ref>, they are only
               considered as females, and not as a part of the human species, when improvable reason
               is allowed to be the dignified distinction which raises men above the brute creation,
               and puts a natural sceptre in a feeble hand. </p>
            <p> Yet, because I am a woman, I would not lead my reader to suppose that I mean
               violently to agitate the contested question respecting the equality or inferiority of
               the sex; but as the subject lies in my way, and I cannot pass it over without
               subjecting the main tendency of my reasoning to misconstruction, I shall stop a
               moment to deliver, in a few words, my opinion. --In the government of the physical
               world it is observable that the female, in general, is inferior to the male. The male
               pursues, the female yields--this is the law of nature; and it does not appear to be
               suspended or abrogated in favour of woman. This physical superiority cannot be
               denied--and it is a noble prerogative! But not content with this natural preeminence, <pb n="4 [break after pre-]" facs="pageImages/VIN-4.jpg"/>men endeavour to sink us still
               lower, merely to render us alluring objects for a moment; and women, intoxicated by
               the adoration which men, under the influence of their senses, pay them, do not seek
               to obtain a durable interest in their hearts, or to become the friends of the fellow
               creatures who find amusement in their society.</p>
            <p> I am aware of an obvious inference: from every quarter have I hear exclamations
               against masculine women; but where are they to be found? If by this appellation men
               mean to inveigh against their ardour in hunting, shooting, and gaming, I shall most
               cordially join in the cry; but if it be against the imitation of <ref target="manly_" corresp="manly">manly virtues</ref> or, more properly speaking, the attainment of
               those talents and virtues, the exercise of which ennobles the human character, and
               which raise females in the scale of animal being, when they are comprehensively
               termed mankind; all those who view them with a philosophical eye must, I should
               think, wish with me, that they may every day grow more and more masculine. </p>
            <p>This discussion naturally divides the subject. I shall first consider women in the
                  <pb n="5" facs="pageImages/VIN-5.jpg"/> grand light of human creatures, who, in
               common with men, are placed on this earth to unfold their faculties; and afterwards I
               shall more particularly point out their peculiar designation. </p>
            <p> I wish also to steer clear of an error which many respectable writers have fallen
               into; for the instruction which has hither been addressed to women, has rather been
               applicable to ladies, if the little indirect advice, that is scattered through <ref target="sandford_merton_" corresp="sandford_merton">Sandford and Merton</ref>, be excepted; but,
               addressing my sex in a firmer tone, I pay particular attention to those in the middle
               class, because they appear to be in the most natural state. Perhaps the seeds of
               false-refinement, immorality, and vanity, have ever been shed by the great. Weak,
               artificial beings, raised above the common wants and affections of their race, in a
               premature unnatural manner, undermine the very foundation of virtue, and spread
               corruption through the whole mass of society! As a class of mankind they have the
               strongest claim to pity; the education of the rich tends to render them vain and
               helpless, and the unfolding mind is not strengthened by the practice of those duties which dignify the human <pb n="6 [break after 'hu-']" facs="pageImages/VIN-6.jpg"/> 
               character.—They only live to amuse themselves, and by the same law which in nature
               invariably produces certain effects, they soon only afford barren amusement. </p>
            <p>But as I purpose taking a separate view of the <ref target="ranks_" corresp="ranks">
                  different ranks of society</ref>, and of the moral character of women, in each,
               this hint is, for the present, sufficient; and I have only alluded to the subject,
               because it appears to me to be the very essence of an introduction to give a cursory
               account of the contents of the work it introduces. </p>
            <p>My own sex, I hope, will excuse me, if I treat them like rational creatures, instead
               of flattering their <hi rend="italic">fascinating</hi> graces, and viewing them as if
               they were in a state of perpetual childhood, unable to stand alone. I earnestly wish
               to point out in what true dignity and human happiness consists—I wish to persuade
               women to endeavour to acquire strength, both of mind and body, and to convince them
               that the soft phrases, susceptibility of heart, delicacy of sentiment, and refinement
               of taste, are almost synonymous with epithets of weakness, and that those beings who
               are only the objects of pity and that kind of love, which  has been termed its sister, will soon become objects
               of contempt. </p>
                        <pb n="7" facs="pageImages/VIN-7.jpg"/>
            <p> Dismissing then those pretty feminine phrases, which the men condescendingly use to
               soften our slavish dependence, and despising that weak <ref target="elegance_" corresp="elegance">elegancy of mind</ref>, exquisite sensibility, and sweet docility
               of manners, supposed to be the sexual characteristics of the weaker vessel, I wish to
               shew that elegance is inferior to <ref target="virtue_" corresp="virtue">virtue</ref>,
               that the first object of laudable ambition is to obtain a character as a human being,
               regardless of the distinction of sex; and that secondary views should be brought to
               this simple touchstone. </p>
            <p> This is a rough sketch of my plan; and should I express my conviction with the
               energetic emotions that I feel whenever I think of the subject, the dictates of
               experience and reflection will be felt by some of my readers. Animated by this
               important object, I shall disdain to cull my phrases or polish my style;--I aim at
               being useful, and sincerity will render me unaffected; for, wishing rather to
               persuade by the force of my arguments, than dazzle by the elegance of my language, I
               shall not waste my time in rounding periods, or in fabricating the turgid bombast of
               artificial feelings, which, coming from the
               head, never reach the heart. – I shall be employed about <pb n="8" facs="pageImages/VIN-8.jpg"/> things, not words! – and,
               anxious to render my sex more respectable members of society, I shall try to avoid
               that flowery diction which has slided from essays into novels, and from novels into
               familiar letters and conversation. </p>
            <p>These pretty nothings – these caricatures of the real beauty of sensibility, dropping
               glibly from the tongue, vitiate the taste, and create a kind of sickly delicacy that
               turns away from simple unadorned truth; and a deluge of false sentiments and
               overstretched feelings, stifling the natural emotions of the heart, render the
               domestic pleasures insipid,--that ought to sweeten the exercise of those severe
               duties, which educate a rational and immortal being for a nobler field of action. </p>
            <p>The <ref target="schools_" corresp="schools">education of women</ref> has, of late, been
               more attended to than formerly; yet they are still reckoned a frivolous sex, and
               ridiculed or pitied by the writers who endeavor by satire or instruction to improve
               them. It is acknowledged that they spend many of the first years of their lives in
               acquiring a smattering of accomplishments:
               meanwhile strength of body and mind are sacrificed to libertine notions of beauty, to
               the desire of establishing <pb n="9 [break after 'establish-']" facs="pageImages/VIN-9.jpg"/>themselves, --the only way women can rise in the
               world,--by marriage. And this desire making mere animals of them, when they marry
               they act as such children may be expected to act: --they dress; they paint, and
               nickname God’s creatures. --Surely there weak beings are only fit for a <ref target="seraglio_" corresp="seraglio">seraglio</ref>! --Can they govern a family, or take
               care of the poor bebes whom they bring into the world? </p>
            <p>If then it can be fairly deduced from the present conduct of the sex, from the
               prevalent fondness for pleasure which takes place of ambition and those nobler
               passions that open and enlarge the soul; that the instruction which women have
               received has only tended, with the constitution of civil society, to render them
               insignificant object of desire--more propagators of fools! --if it can be proved that
               in aiming to accomplish them, without cultivating their understandings, they are
               taken out of their sphere of duties, and make ridiculous and useless when the
               short-lived bloom of beauty is over<ref target="auth1_" corresp="auth1">*</ref>, I presume <pb n="10" facs="pageImages/VIN-10.jpg"/>  that <hi rend="italic">rational</hi> men will excuse me for
               endeavoring to persuade them to become more masculine and respectable. </p>
            <p> Indeed the word masculine is only a bugbear: there is little reason to fear that
               women will acquire too much courage or fortitude; for their apparent inferiority with
               respect to bodily strength, must render them, in some degree, dependent on men in the
               in the various relations of life; but why should it be increased by prejudices that
               give a sex to virtue, and confound simple truths with sensual reveries? </p>
            <p> Women are, in fact, so much degraded by mistaken notions of female excellence, that
               I do not mean to add a paradox when I assert, that this artificial weakness produces
               a propensity to tyrannize, and gives birth to cunning, the natural opponent of
               strength, which leads them to play off those contemptible infantine airs that
               undermine esteem even whilst they excite desire. Do not foster these prejudices, and
               they will naturally fall into their subordinate, yet respectable station in life. It
               seems scarcely necessary to say, that I now speak of the sex in general. Many individuals <pb n="11 [break after 'in-']" facs="pageImages/VIN-11.jpg"/>have more sense than their male
               relatives; and, as nothing preponderates where there is a constant struggle for an
               equilibrium, without it has naturally more gravity, some women govern their husbands
               without degrading themselves, because intellect will always govern.</p>
         </div>
         <div type="chapter">
            <pb n="414" facs="pageImages/VIN-414.jpg"/>
            <head>CHAP. XIII</head>
            <p>SOME INSTANCES OF THE FOLLY WHICH THE IGNORANCE OF WOMEN GENERATES; WITH CONCLUDING
               REFLECTIONS ON THE MORAL IMPROVEMENT THAT A REVOLUTION IN FEMALE MANNERS MIGHT
               NATURALLY BE EXPECTED TO PRODUCE.</p>
            <pb n="425" facs="pageImages/VIN-425.jpg"/>
            <div type="section">
               <head>SECT. II</head>
               <p>Another instance of that feminine weakness of character, often produced by a
                  confined education, is a romantic twist of the mind, which has been very properly
                  termed <ref target="sentimental_" corresp="sentimental">
                     <hi rend="italic">sentimental</hi>
                                </ref>.</p>
               <p>Women subjected by ignorance to their sensations, and only taught to look for
                  happiness in love, refine on sensual feelings, and adopt metaphysical notions
                  respecting that passion, which lead them shamefully to neglect the duties of life,
                  and frequently in the midst of these sublime refinements they plump into actual
                  vice. </p>
               <p>Theses are women who are amused by the reveries of the <ref target="novelists_" corresp="novelists">stupid novelists</ref>, who, knowing little of human nature,
                  work up stale tales, and describe meretricious scenes, all retailed in sentimental
                  jargon, which equally tend to corrupt the taste and draw the heart aside <pb n="426" facs="pageImages/VIN-426.jpg"/> from its daily duties. I do not mention
                  the understanding, because never having been exercised, its slumbering energies
                  rest inactive, like the lurking particles of fire which are supposed universally
                  to pervade matter. </p>
               <p>Females, in fact, denied all political privileges, and not allowed, as married
                  women, excepting in criminal cases, a civil existence, have their attention
                  naturally drawn from the interest of the whole community to that of the minute
                  parts, though the private duty of any member of society must be very imperfectly
                  performed when not connected with the general good. The mighty business of female
                  life is to please, and restrained from entering into more important concerns by
                  political and civil oppression, sentiments become events, and reflection deepens
                  what it should, and would have effaced, if the understanding had been allowed to
                  take a wider range. </p>
               <p>But, confined to <ref target="trifling_employments_" corresp="trifling_employments">trifling employments</ref>,
                  they naturally imbibe opinions which the only kind of reading calculated to
                  interest an innocent frivolous mind, inspires. Unable to grasp anything great, is
                  it surprising that they find the reading of history a very dry talk, and <pb n="427" facs="pageImages/VIN-427.jpg"/> disquisitions addressed to the
                  understanding intolerably tedious, and almost unintelligible? Thus are they
                  necessarily dependent on the novelist for amusement. Yet, when I exclaim against
                  novels, I mean when contrasted with those works which exercise the understanding
                  and regulate the imagination.--For any kind of reading I think better than leaving
                  a blank still a blank, because the mind must receive a degree of enlargement and
                  obtain a little strength by a slight exertion of its thinking powers; besides,
                  even the productions that are only addressed to the imagination, raise the reader
                  a little above the gross gratification of appetites, to which the mind has not
                  given shade of delicacy. </p>
               <p>This observation is the result of experience; for I have known several notable
                  women, and one in particular, who was a very good woman--as good as such a narrow
                  mind would allow her to be, who took care that her daughters (three in number),
                  should never see a novel. As she was a woman of fortune and fashion, they had
                  various masters to attend them, and a sort of menial <ref target="governess_" corresp="governess">governess</ref> to watch their footsteps. From their masters
                  they learned how tables, chairs, &amp;c. were <pb n="428" facs="pageImages/VIN-428.jpg"/> called in French and Italian; but as the few
                  books thrown in their way were far above their capacities, or devotional, they
                  neither acquired ideas nor sentiments, and passed their time when not compelled to
                  repeat words, in dressing, quarrelling with each other, or conversing with their
                  maids by stealth, till they were brought into company as marriageable. </p>
               <p>Their mother, a widow, was busy in the meantime keeping up her connections, as she
                  termed a numerous acquaintance, lest her girls should want a proper introduction
                  into the great world. And these young ladies with minds vulgar in every sense of
                  the word, and spoiled tempers, entered life puffed up with notions of their own
                  consequence, and looking down with contempt on those who could not vie with them
                  in <ref target="dress_" corresp="dress">dress and parade.</ref>
               </p>
               <p>With respect to love, nature, or their nurses had taken care to teach them the
                  physical meaning of the word; and, as they had few topics of conversation, and
                  fewer refinements on sentiment, they expressed their gross wishes not in very
                  delicate phrases, when they spoke freely, talking of matrimony.</p>
               <pb n="429" facs="pageImages/VIN-429.jpg"/>
               <p>
                  <ref target="novels_" corresp="novels">Could these girls have been injured by the
                     perusal of novels?</ref> I almost forgot a shade in the character of one of
                  them; she affected a simplicity bordering on folly, and with a simper would utter
                  the most immodest remarks and questions, the full meaning of which she had learned
                  whilst secluded from the world, and afraid to speak in her mother’s presence, who
                  governed with a high hand: they were all educated, as the prided herself, in most
                  exemplary manner; and read their chapters and psalms before breakfast, never
                  touching a silly novel. </p>
               <p>This is only one influence; but I recollect many other women who, not led by
                  degrees to proper studies, and not permitted to choose for themselves, have indeed
                  been overgrown children; or have obtained, by mixing in the world, a little of
                  what is termed common sense; that is a distinct manner of feeling common
                  occurrences, as they stand detached: but what deserves the name of intellect, the
                  power of gaining general or abstract ideas, or even intermediate ones, was out of
                  the question. Their minds were quiescent, and when they were not roused by
                  sensible objects <pb n="430 [break after 'ob-']" facs="pageImages/VIN-430.jpg"/>and employments of
                  that kind, they were low-spirited, would cry, or go to sleep.</p>
               <p>When, therefore, I advise my sex not to reach such flimsy works, it is to induce
                  them to read something superior; for I coincide in opinion with sagacious man,
                  who, having a daughter and niece under his care, pursued a very different plan
                  with each.</p>
               <p>The niece, who had considerable abilities, had, before she was left to his
                  guardianship, been indulged in desultory reading. There she endeavoured to lead,
                  and did lead to history and moral essays; but his daughter, whom a fond, weak
                  mother had indulged, and who consequently was averse to everything like
                  application, he allowed to read novels: and used to justify his conduct by saying,
                  that if she ever attained a relish for reading them, he should have some
                  foundation to work upon; and that erroneous opinions were better than none at all. </p>
               <p> In fact the female mind has been so totally neglected, that knowledge was only to
                  be acquired from this muddy source, till from reading novels some women of
                  superior talents learned to despite them. </p>
               <pb n="431" facs="pageImages/VIN-431.jpg"/>
               <p> The best method, I believe, that can be adopted to correct a fondness for novels
                  is to ridicule them: not indiscriminately, for then it would have little effect;
                  but, if a judicious person, with some turn for humour, would read several to a
                  young girl, and point out both tones, and apt comparisons with pathetic incidents
                  and heroic characters in history, how foolishly and ridiculously they captured
                  human nature, just opinions might be substituted instead of romantic sentiments. </p>
               <p> In one respect, however, the majority of both sexes resemble, and equally shew a
                  want of taste and modesty. Ignorant women, forced to be chaste to preserve their
                  reputation, allow their imagination to revel in the unnatural and meretricious
                  scenes sketched by the novel writers of the day, slighting as insipid <ref target="history_" corresp="history">the sober dignity and matronly graces of
                     history</ref>
                  <ref target="auth2_" corresp="auth2">*</ref>, whilst men carry the same vitiated taste
                  into life, and fly for amusement to the wanton, from the unsophisticated charms
                     <pb n="432" facs="pageImages/VIN-432.jpg"/> of virtue, and the grave
                  respectability of sense. </p>
               <p> Besides, the reading of novels makes women, and particularly ladies of fashion,
                  very fond of using strong expressions and superlatives in conversation; and,
                  though the dissipated artificial life which they lead prevents their cherishing
                  and strong legitimate passion, the language of passion in affected tones slips for
                  ever from their glib tongues, and every trifle produces those <ref target="phosphorus_" corresp="phosphorus">phosphoric bursts which only mimick in the dark the flame of
                     passion</ref>. </p>
            </div>
            
         </div>

        <div type="notes"> <note type="editorial" xml:id="wollstonecraft" target="wollstonecraft_" resp="editors.xml#MUstudstaff">
            <graphic url="notes/mw02603.jpg"/>Born in London on April 27, 1759, Mary Wollstonecraft is considered
            one of the principal figures in modern feminism. Her works reflected her unmarried
            middle class experience, emphasizing gender injustice, the failure of the education
            system for young women, and the position of women in unhappy marriages. Her best known
            work, <hi rend="italic">Vindication of the Rights of Women</hi> (1792), argues that to
            attain virtue, women need access to systemic education. See this <ref target="http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/british/empire_seapower/wollstonecraft_01.shtml">biographical essay on Wollstonecraft by Janet Todd</ref>. The portrait of
            Wollstonecraft included here, painted by John Opie (1797), is housed in the <ref target="https://www.npg.org.uk/">National Portrait Gallery, London</ref>. </note>
         <note type="editorial" xml:id="mahometanism" target="mahometanism_" resp="editors.xml#BT">
            <graphic url="notes/Ladies_cabul1848b.jpg" alt="1848 lithograph by James Rattray showing an                Afgan women under purdah" desc="1848 lithograph by James Rattray showing an                Afgan women under purdah" source="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ladies_cabul1848b.jpg"/>A term used by Westerners to refer to Muslims, in this context
            Mahometanism is associated with the limited opportunities and oppressed status of women
            in the eighteenth century. As discussed in <ref target="https://books.google.com/books?id=jumHDAAAQBAJ">
                                <hi rend="italic">The
                  Feminization Debate in Eighteenth-Century England</hi> (2004) by E. Clery</ref>,
            women were trained to obey their father and husband. This confinement and
            domesticization was frequently described as "Mahometan" due to the misguided belief
            among the English that Islam sees women as not possessing souls. Social reformer and
            leader of the Blue Stockings Society, Elizabeth Montagu lamented in a letter about the
            effects of such "Mahometan" belief, which is used to justify women's domestic
            confinement (Clery 136). The image included here, an 1848 lithograph by James Rattray, shows
            Afgan women under purdah. <ref target="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ladies_cabul1848b.jpg">Image via
               Wikimedia Commons</ref>.</note>
         <note type="authorial" xml:id="auth1" target="auth1_" resp="editors.xml#TH">
                            <graphic url="notes/ba-obj-42138-0001-pub-large.jpg"/>* A lively writer, I cannot
            recollect his name, asks what business women turned of forty have to do in the world?
            [Wollstonecraft's note.] The "lively writer" may be a mistaken reference to Lord Merton,
               a character in Frances Burney's epistolary novel <hi rend="italic">Evelina</hi> (1778),
               who says of the masculine Mrs. Selwyn, "I don't know what the devil a woman lives for
               after thirty: she is only in other folks way" (III.1, 7). Readers may also find <ref target="https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=mdp.39015011429282;view=1up;seq=153">this satirical essay from <hi rend="italic">The London Magazine</hi> of 1777 of
                     interest, in which a gentleman proposes a tax on unmarried women over the age of
                     35</ref>. The image below, from the <ref target="http://collections.britishart.yale.edu/vufind/Record/3626225">Yale Center for
                        British Art</ref>, shows "An Old Maid Treating a Favorite Cat to a Duck and Green
               Peas," a colored etching by Richard Newton (c.1792).] 
         </note>
         <note type="editorial" xml:id="education" target="education_" resp="editors.xml#NB">
            <graphic url="notes/wp01dee569_0a.jpg"/> Mary Wollstonecraft noted the absence of proficient education for
            young women in the eighteenth century and decided to establish a school. Wollstonecraft,
            along with her sister Eliza, and friend Fanny Blood, opened the school in 1784. The
            school was established in Newington Green just outside of London. Although the school
            closed from financial distress in 1785, Wollstonecraft drew from her experience as a
            teacher and wrote <hi rend="italic">Thoughts on the Education of Daughters with
               Reflections on Female Conduct in the more important Duties of Life</hi> (1787). The
            above picture shows <ref target="http://www.plaquesoflondon.co.uk/page3312.htm">a plaque dedicated to Mary Wollstonecraft at the Newington Green
               Primary School</ref> near where the school was located in the 18th century. For more
            information on the life of Mary Wollstonecraft, read <ref target="https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/wollstonecraft/">this biographical essay
               written by Sylvana Tomaselli</ref>. To look through a copy of Wollstonecraft's <hi rend="italic">Thoughts on the Education of Daughters with Reflections on Female
                  Conduct in the more important Duties of Life</hi> click <ref target="https://digital.library.lse.ac.uk/objects/lse:ruf494jak">here</ref> for an
            online version of the book from the London School of Economics’ digital library. </note>
         <note type="authorial" xml:id="auth2" target="auth2_">* I am not now alluding to that superiority
            of mind which leads to the creation of ideal beauty, when life, surveyed with a
            penetrating eye, appears a tragi-comedy, in which little can be seen to satisfy the
            heart without the help of fancy. [Wollstonecraft’s note.] </note>
         <note type="editorial" xml:id="trifling_employments" target="trifling_employments_" resp="editors.xml#MM">
            <graphic url="notes/Reynolds_2000.jpg"/>By "trifling employments," Wollstonecraft refers to the kinds of
            things elegant women did to employ their time such as needlepoint. Not allowed to
            participate in the masculine public sphere, women instead spent their time in domestic
            labor and activities. Many were mothers and homemakers. These activities were not
            masculine and serious but feminine and trifling. Read more on women’s work in the
            eighteenth century in <ref target="http://www.jasna.org/persuasions/on-line/vol25no1/jones.html">this article by
               Susan E. Jones</ref>, also the source of this annotation. The portrait above, <ref target="https://www.frick.org/exhibitions/scottish/reynolds">via the Frick
                  Collection</ref>, is a conversation piece by Joshua Reynolds (1723–1792) showing the
            genteel young ladies Waldegrave engaged in such domestic work. </note>
         <note type="editorial" xml:id="history" target="history_" resp="editors.xml#DN"> This is likely a reference to
            discussions about the hierarchy of genres during the eighteenth century. Dorothee Birke,
            author of <ref target="https://books.google.com/books?id=fujCDAAAQBAJ">
                                <hi rend="italic">Writing the Reader: Configurations of Cultural Practice in English Novel</hi>
               (2016)</ref>, explains that historical and philosophical works were seen to have
            higher value than novels and poetry. The reason behind such a hierarchical placement is
            the perception of fictional reading to be connected with ignorance as people are fed
            unrealistic words. Thus, historical and philosophical works which were often based on
            truth and it reality, were insightful readings that were ranked higher than unrealistic
            or exaggerated works (<ref target="https://books.google.com/books?id=fujCDAAAQBAJ">Birke 63</ref>).</note>
         <note type="editorial" xml:id="sandford_merton" target="sandford_merton_" resp="editors.xml#SV"> Likely a reference to a popular
            children’s book written in the eighteenth century, <hi rend="italic">Sandford and
               Merton</hi> (1783), by Thomas Day, is about two boys who grow up differently based on
            social status. <ref target="https://books.google.com/books?id=eyb7nFtiPQYC">According to
               Stephen Bending and Stephen Bygrave</ref>, the book is an indictment of upper class
            "effete" masculinity (23). Tommy Merton is spoiled by middle class privileges and needs
            to be re-educated to become as fine a man as Sandford, whose lower-class status
            challenged him to develop, physically and mentally, into an admirable young man (3-4).
            Interested viewers can also <ref target="https://archive.org/details/historyofsandfor00daytiala">read an abridged
               version of Day’s children’s book, published in 1792, at the Internet Archive</ref>. </note>
         <note type="editorial" xml:id="novelists" target="novelists_" resp="editors.xml#KS">Wollstonecraft's question refers to an
            ongoing discussion about the work of novel-reading on young girls' intellectual growth.
            It was thought dangerous for women to read novels because society feared that they would
            not, as Anna North writes in <ref target="https://op-talk.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/09/14/when-novels-were-bad-for-you/">"When Novels Were Bad for You,"</ref> be able to "differentiate between fiction and
            life."</note>
         <note type="editorial" xml:id="bubbled" target="bubbled_" resp="editors.xml#JMF">
            <graphic url="notes/AN00142098_001_l.jpg"/> According to the Oxford English Dictionary, in the eighteenth-century
            the word "bubbled" meant befooled, cheated, or deceived. Here, Wollstonecraft is saying
            women’s understandings have been fooled by the popularization and distribution of
            conduct books and their false depiction of women. "Bubbled" in this usage is also
            derived from the devastating financial bubble in the eighteenth century, including the
            South Sea Bubble of 1720. Many engravings and satirical prints of the time depict how
            the people were deceived and cheated financially, most notably, <hi rend="italic">The
               Bubbler’s Medley, or a Sketch of the Times being Europe’s Memoriam for 1720</hi>.
            The image included here is <ref target="https://www.britishmuseum.org/research/collection_online/search.aspx">from the British Museum's online collection</ref>. To read more, visit <ref target="https://www.library.hbs.edu/hc/ssb/history.html">Harvard Business School’s
               online exhibit on the South Sea Bubble</ref>, and the source of this annotation. </note>
         <note type="editorial" xml:id="conduct" target="conduct_" resp="editors.xml#BT">
            <graphic url="notes/gregory.jpg" alt="Photograph of the title page of Gregory's conduct book A Father's Legacy to His Daughters (1795)" desc="The Title page of Gregory's conduct book" source="http://www.lib.udel.edu/ud/spec/exhibits/women/courtesy.htm"/> 
             This is most likely a reference to Dr. John Gregory’s <hi rend="italic">A Father’s Legacy to His Daughters</hi>, a conduct book written prior
            to Dr. Gregory’s wife’s passing in 1761 and addressed to his daughters about etiquette,
            religion, conduct, and behaviors. Wollstonecraft references this book directly in many
            of her arguments. The image of the book's title page (1795) is from the <ref target="http://www.lib.udel.edu/ud/spec/exhibits/women/courtesy.htm">University of Delaware Special Collections Department</ref> is from the National Library of Scotland. <ref target="https://www.si.edu/object/nmah_307978">View a 1793 edition of <hi rend="italic">A Father’s Legacy to His Daughters</hi> at the Internet
               Archive</ref>.</note>
         <note type="editorial" xml:id="johnson" target="johnson_" resp="editors.xml#TH">
            
            <graphic url="notes/bookshops-around-stPauls.jpeg"/>
            Throughout the eighteenth century, St. Paul’s Church Yard was the center of the
            publishing trade. Wollstonecraft's <hi rend="italic">Vindications</hi> was published by
            Joseph Johnson, a liberal publisher with radical views, who published work by William
            Godwin, Joseph Priestly, and William Blake. Wollstonecraft lived near St. Paul’s Church
            Yard and spent many hours in this workshop as Joseph Johnson gave her writing and
            translating jobs throughout the day. For more on the relationship between Mary
            Wollstonecraft and Joseph Johnson, see this <ref target="http://theamericanreader.com/24-december-1787-mary-wollstonecraft-to-joseph-johnson/">letter from Wollstonecraft to her publisher reprinted in <hi rend="italic">The
                  American Reader</hi>
                            </ref>. The image here, from a <ref target="http://louisville.edu/artsandsciences/news/all/shakespeare-folio">University of Louisville news
                     article on William Shakespeare's first folio</ref>, shows the locations of printers around St.
            Paul's during the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. </note>
         <note type="editorial" xml:id="elegance" target="elegance_" resp="editors.xml#SM">
            <graphic url="notes/156253-primary-0-nativeres.jpg"/> Elegance in the 18th century has a specific meaning when applied to
            women. According to <ref target="https://books.google.com/books?id=BVKH3UIypN8C">Robert
               W. Jones, author of <hi rend="italic">Gender and the Formation of Taste in
                  Eighteenth-Century Britain</hi>
                            </ref>, feminine elegance is the combination of
            docility and enticement of men. In the eighteenth century, elegance is feminized with
            the goal that women should use it to please and seduce men through beauty and
            refinement. Elegance of the eighteenth century is the area of the pleasing and amiable
            actions from women to men, these beauty standards were important and a source of
            intrigue for the culture (Jones 109). The image here, <ref target="https://www.nga.gov/collection/art-object-page.156253.html">drawn from the National Gallery of
               Art in Washington, DC,</ref> shows <hi rend="italic">An Elegant Lady Playing a Cittern</hi> (1770), by Nathaniel
            Dance-Holland. </note>
         <note type="editorial" xml:id="virtue" target="virtue_" resp="editors.xml#RB"> Mary Wollstonecraft uses "virtue" with
            its eighteenth-century sense of power. Men were often seen as virtuous because of their
            physical strength, whereas women acquired virtue through sensibility and virginity.
            Wollstonecraft argues that true virtue can only exist with knowledge and education.
            Therefore, women must be properly educated or they would only be mimicking true virtue.
            <ref target="https://books.google.com/books?id=eEbY1xeU4S4C">Views of Women in
               Eighteenth Century Literature," published in the <hi rend="italic">International
                  Journal of Communication Research</hi>
                            </ref> by Adrian Brunello and Florina-Elena
            Borsan reviews the way that understandings of womanhood shifted in the period, resulting
            in the need for an exterior display of virtue, rather than true virtue (325-326). <ref target="https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/godfried-schalcken-allegory-of-virtue-and-riches">clicking here will direct you to the UK National Gallery of Art, showing <hi rend="italic">An Allegory of Virtue and Riches</hi>, painted in 1667 by Godfried
               Schalcken. </ref>
         </note>
         <note type="editorial" xml:id="schools" target="schools_" resp="editors.xml#FB">
            <graphic url="notes/N00427_10.jpg"/> The
            most common schools available for lower working class families in eighteenth-century
            were dame schools. An elderly, barely literate, woman would teach reading and sewing for
            a small fee. Read more in <ref target="https://content.historicengland.org.uk/images-books/publications/englands-schools/englands-schools.pdf/">English Heritage’s brochure on <hi rend="italic">England’s School</hi>
                            </ref>. The
            image of children learning in a dame school, painted by Thomas Webster (1845), is housed
            in the <ref target="https://www.tate.org.uk">Tate Art Museum, London.</ref>
         </note>
         <note type="editorial" xml:id="sentimental" target="sentimental_" resp="editors.xml#ES"> The sentimental novel is a genre which
            rose into popularity in the eighteenth century. This genre is characterized by
            excessively passionate characters, tearful scenes and dramatic, flowery dialogue. Mary
            Wollstonecraft may be using the popularity of these novels among young women to explain
            their apparent lack of rationality rather than claiming irrationality to be a naturally
            female trait. Read more about the sentimental novel in <ref target="https://www.britannica.com/art/sentimental-novel">
               <hi rend="italic">Encyclopedia Britannica</hi>.</ref>
         </note>
         <note type="editorial" xml:id="novels" target="novels_" resp="editors.xml#ES">As novels became more accessible they
            became more popular. Some believed that excessive exposure to fiction novels would cause
            readers to lose touch with reality and identify with characters to the point of
            mimicking dangerous or immoral behavior. Read more about a popular novel that was blamed
            for youthful suicides in this article by Frank Furedi from <ref target="http://www.historytoday.com/frank-furedi/media%E2%80%99s-first-moral-panic">
               <hi rend="italic">History Today</hi>
                            </ref>. </note>
         <note type="editorial" xml:id="ranks" target="ranks_" resp="editors.xml#MR"> The different ranks of society in
            England during the eighteenth century were not simply divided between the rich or poor.
            According to the eighteenth-century writer Daniel Defoe, there were seven categories:
            the great, the rich, the middle sort, the working trades, the country people, the poor,
            and the miserable. The country still relied on agriculture and, although some still died
            of hunger, there was usually enough food to go around. Trade was increasing and more men
            and women acquired jobs in industry. However, wealth was unequally distributed, with
            only 5% of the national income belonging to the general population. Read more in this
            <ref target="https://www.britannica.com/place/United-Kingdom/18th-century-Britain-1714-1815">
                                <hi rend="italic">Encyclopedia Britannica</hi> entry for eighteenth-century
               Britain</ref>, and the source of this annotation. </note>
         <note type="editorial" xml:id="seraglio" target="seraglio_" resp="editors.xml#RDJ">
            <graphic url="notes/John_frederick_lewis-reception1873.jpg"/> Wollstonecraft’s argument in <hi rend="italic"> A Vindication of the
               Rights of Woman </hi> is that women spend most of their lives acquiring knowledge to
            be perfect wives instead of strengthening their minds and bodies to place a man. Because
            the only way women can rise the world is through marriage, they are being groomed to
            become lovers much like women in a Turkish seraglio, as Susan Gubar notes in "Feminist
            Misogyny" (<ref target="https://books.google.com/books?id=nxUtN1J-Z1UC">Gubar
               151</ref>). Wollstonecraft is pointing out the lack of freedom for women. The image
            included here illustrates the women’s quarter of a seraglio painted in 1873 by John
            Frederick Lewis. <ref target="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:John_frederick_lewis-reception1873.jpg">This image is from Wikimedia Commons.</ref>
         </note>
         <note type="editorial" xml:id="dress" target="dress_" resp="editors.xml#DF">
            <graphic url="notes/Madame_de_Pompadour.jpg"/>In the eighteenth century, women were encouraged to focus on their
            dress, meaning their overall attire, because <ref target="https://archive.org/stream/b28747021">as Dr. Gregory argues in <hi rend="italic">A Father’s Legacy to His Daughters</hi>, it was supposedly natural
               to them (55)</ref>. Women were dressed in hope of catching the attention of a man;
            they would parade, or flaunt themselves to men, hoping to find a husband, which is the
            only way for a woman to "rise in the world," as Wollstonecraft notes above (9).
            Wollstonecraft didn’t want women to dress and flaunt themselves only for men’s
            attention; she wanted women to focus on their own education. This portrait of Madame
            Pompadour, located in the Alte Pinkothek Museum in Munich and via <ref target="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Madame_de_Pompadour.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</ref>, provides an example of
            women’s attire in the 1700s in which Wollstonecraft was advising them not to do. Learn
            more about eighteenth-century fashion at <ref target="http://www.vam.ac.uk/content/articles/i/introduction-to-18th-century-fashion/">the Victoria and Albert Museum</ref>.</note>
         <note type="editorial" xml:id="governess" target="governess_" resp="editors.xml#AH"> According to <ref target="https://www.bl.uk/romantics-and-victorians/articles/the-figure-of-the-governess">Katheryn Hughes</ref>, the governess was one of the most familiar figures in the
            Romantic period and throughout the Victorian period. Governesses were women who earned
            their living by teaching and caring for other women’s children. Most governesses lived
            with their employers and were paid a small salary on top of their board and lodging. The
            governess was seen as an outsider, not quite fitting in with the family she governed for
            but not exactly fitting in as a servant either.</note>
         <note type="editorial" xml:id="manly" target="manly_" resp="editors.xml#RB">
            <graphic url="notes/Thomas_Gainsborough_-_Mr_and_Mrs_Andrews.jpg"/>"Manly virtues" in the eighteenth century refers to social
            behavior that encourages men to be kind, loving, and courageous both in the home and in
            the public domain. Since masculinity is, as <hi rend="italic">Intertextual War: Edmund
               Burke and the French Revolution in the Writings of Mary Wollstonecraft, Thomas Paine,
               and James Mackintosh</hi> by Steven Blakemore, states, a "restrictive misnomer for
            qualities or virtues that are human," Mary Wollstonecraft opposes men that inveigh
            against masculine women because of its imitation of manly virtues (<ref target="https://pdfs.semanticscholar.org/8ecf/602a48f6e143a90d72e5cca251751bc26bae.pdf">Blakemore 42</ref>). The portrait here, <hi rend="italic"> Mr. and Mrs. Andrews</hi>
            by Thomas Gainsborough (1748), is housed in the National Gallery London. This painting,
            via Wikimedia Commons, illustrates manliness in terms of gentility. </note>
         <note type="editorial" xml:id="phosphorus" target="phosphorus_" resp="editors.xml#TG">
            <graphic url="notes/Joseph_Wright_of_Derby_The_Alchemist.jpg"/>Used by alchemists throughout the seventeenth century, phosphorous was
            officially designated the thirteenth element by Antoine Lavosier in 1777. Quack
            physicians incorporated the eerily-glowing phosphorous into their "cure all" medicines.
            Here, Wollstonecraft may be referring to a long-standing association between the element
            and its use in false medicines as well as its generation of artificial light. The image
            included here, <hi rend="italic">The Alchymist, In Search of the Philosopher’s Stone,
               Discovers Phosphorus</hi> (1770) is by Joseph Wright of Derby, <ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Alchemist_Discovering_Phosphorus#/media/File:Joseph_Wright_of_Derby_The_Alchemist.jpg">via Wikimedia Commons</ref>. Read more about the discovery of phosphorus on <ref target="https://resobscura.blogspot.com/2017/06/urine-phosphorus-and-philosophers-stone.html">the personal blog <hi rend="italic">Res Obscura</hi>
                            </ref>.</note>
         
         

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                  <title type="main">Oroonoko</title>
                  <title type="sub">; or, The Royal Slave; a True History</title>
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      <front>
         <pb n="[Title Page]" facs="pageImages/TP.jpg"/>
         <titlePage>

            <titlePart>OROONOKO:<lb/>OR, THE<lb/>Royal Slave.</titlePart>
            <lb/>
            <titlePart>A TRUE<lb/>HISTORY.</titlePart>
                        <lb/>
                        <lb/>

            <titlePart>
                            <ref target="https://anthologydev.lib.virginia.edu/work/headnotes/behn">By Mrs. <hi rend="italic">A. BEHN.</hi>
                            </ref>
                            <lb/>
                            <lb/>
                        </titlePart>

            <titlePart>
                            <hi rend="italic">LONDON,</hi> <lb/>Printed for <hi rend="italic">Will. Canning,</hi> at his
               Shop in <lb/>the <hi rend="italic">Temple-Cloysters.</hi> 1688.</titlePart>

            <lb/>
         </titlePage>
<pb n="[i]"/>

         <div type="dedication">
            <head type="sub">TO THE<lb/>Right Honourable<lb/>THE Lord <hi rend="italic">MAITLAND.</hi>
            </head>

            <opener>
               <salute>My Lord,</salute>
               
            </opener>
            <p>
                            <hi rend="italic">Since the World is grown so Nice and Critical upon Dedications, and will Needs be
               Judging the Book, by the Wit of the Patron; we ought, with a great deal of
               Circumspection, to chuse a Person against whom there can be no <pb n="[ii]"/>Exception; and
               whose Wit, and Worth, truly Merits all that one is capable of saying upon that
               Occasion.</hi>
                        </p>

            <p>
                            <hi rend="italic">The most part of Dedications are charg'd with Flattery; and if the World knows a Man
               has some Vices, they will not allow one to speak of his Virtues. This, my Lord, is
               for want of thinking Rightly; if Men wou'd consider with Reason, they wou'd have
               another sort of Opinion, and Esteem of Dedications; and wou'd believe almost every
               Great Man has enough to make him Worthy of all that can be said of him there. My
               Lord, a Picture-drawer, when he intends to make a good Picture, essays the Face many
               Ways, and in <pb n="[iii]"/>many Lights, before he begins; that he may chuse, from the several
               turns of it, which is most Agreeable, and gives it the best Grace; and if there be a
               Scar, an ungrateful Mole, or any little Defect, they leave it out; and yet make the
               Picture extreamly like: But he who has the good Fortune to draw a Face that is
               exactly Charming in all its Parts and Features, what Colours or Agreements can be
               added to make it Finer? All that he can give is but its due; and Glories in a Piece
               whose Original alone gives it its Perfection. An ill Hand may diminish, but a good
               Hand cannot augment its Beauty. A Poet is a Painter <pb n="[iv]"/>in his way; he draws to the
               Life, but in another kind; we draw the Nobler part, the Soul and Mind; the Pictures
               of the Pen shall out-last those of the Pencil, and even Worlds themselves. 'Tis a
               short Chronicle of those Lives that possibly wou'd be forgotten by other Historians,
               or lye neglected there, however deserving an immortal Fame; for Men of eminent Parts
               are as Exemplary as even Monarchs themselves; and Virtue is a noble Lesson to be
               learn'd, and 'tis by Comparison we can Judge and Chuse. 'Tis by such illustrious <ref target="Presidents_" corresp="Presidents">Presidents</ref>
               <note xml:id="Presidents" target="Presidents_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Precedents. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>, as your Lordship, the World
               can be Better'd and Refin'd; when a great part of the lazy Nobility <pb n="[v] - breaks after 'Nobi'"/>lity shall, with
               Shame, behold the admirable Accomplishments of a Man so Great, and so Young.</hi>
                        </p>

            <p>
                            <hi rend="italic">Your Lordship has Read innumerable Volumes of Men, and Books; not Vainly for the gust
               of Novelty, but Knowledge, excellent Knowledge: Like the industrious Bee, from every
               Flower you return Laden with the precious Dew, which you are sure to turn to the
               Publick Good. You hoard no one Perfection, but lay it all out in the Glorious Service
               of your Religion and Country; to both which you are a useful and necessary Honour:
               They both want such Supporters; and 'tis only Men of so elevated Parts,<pb n="[vi]"/> and fine
               Knowledge; such noble Principles of Loyalty and Religion this Nation Sighs for. Where
               shall we find a Man so Young, like St. <persName>
                                    <hi rend="italic">Augustine</hi>
                                </persName>, in the midst of all his
               Youth and Gaiety, Teaching the World divine Precepts, true Notions of Faith, and
               Excellent Morality, and, at the same time, be also a perfect Pattern of all that
               accomplish a Great Man? You have, my Lord, all that refin'd Wit that Charms, and the
               Affability that Obliges; a Generosity that gives a Lustre to your Nobility; that
               Hospitality, and Greatness of Mind, that ingages the World; and that admirable
               Conduct, that so <pb n="[vii]"/>well Instructs it. Our Nation ought to regret and bemoan their
               Misfortunes, for not being able to claim the Honour of the Birth of a Man who is so
               fit to serve his Majesty, and his Kingdoms, in all Great and Publick Affairs: And to
               the Glory of your Nation be it spoken, it produces more considerable Men, for all
               fine Sence, Wit, Wisdom, Breeding, and Generosity (for the generality of the
               Nobility) than all other Nations can Boast; and the Fruitfulness of your Virtues
               sufficiently make amends for the Barrenness of your Soil: Which however cannot be
               incommode to your Lordship; since your Quality, and the <pb n="[viii]"/>Veneration that the
               Commonalty naturally pay their Lords, creates a flowing Plenty there—that makes you
               Happy. And to compleat your Happiness, my Lord, Heaven has blest you with a Lady, to
               whom it has given all the Graces, Beauties, and Virtues of her Sex; all the Youth,
               Sweetness of Nature; of a most illustrious Family; and who is a most rare Example to
               all Wives of Quality, for her eminent Piety, Easiness, and Condescention; and as
               absolutely merits Respect from all the World, as she does that Passion and
               Resignation she receives from your Lordship; and which is, on her part, with so much
               Tenderness <pb n="[ix] - breaks after 'Tend'"/>return'd. Methinks your tranquil Lives are an Image of the new Made
               and Beautiful Pair in Paradise: And 'tis the Prayers and Wishes of all, who have the
               Honour to know you, that it may Eternally so continue, with Additions of all the
               Blessings this World can give you.</hi>
                        </p>

            <p>
                            <hi rend="italic">My Lord, the Obligations I have to some of the Great Men of your Nation, particularly
               to your Lordship, gives me an Ambition of making my Acknowledgments, by all the
               Opportunities I can; and such humble Fruits, as my Industry produces, I lay at your
               Lordships Feet. This is a <pb n="[x]"/>true Story, of a Man Gallant enough to merit your
               Protection; and, had he always been so Fortunate, he had not made so Inglorious an
               end: The Royal Slave I had the Honour to know in my Travels to the other World; and
               though I had none above me in that Country, yet I wanted power to preserve this Great
               Man. If there be any thing that seems Romantick, I beseech your Lordship to consider,
               these Countries do, in all things, so far differ from ours, that they produce
               unconceivable Wonders; at least, they appear so to us, because New and Strange. What
               I have mention'd I have taken-care shou'd <pb n="[xi]"/>be Truth, let the Critical Reader
               judge as he pleases. 'Twill be no Commendation to the Book, to assure your Lordship I
               writ it in a few Hours, though it may serve to Excuse some of its Faults of
               Connexion; for I never rested my Pen a Moment for Thought: 'Tis purely the Merit of
               my Slave that must render it worthy of the Honour it begs; and the Author of that of
               Subscribing herself,</hi>
                        </p>
            
            <closer>
            <lb/>
               <salute>
                                <hi>My Lord,</hi>
                            </salute>
               <lb/> Your Lordship's most oblig'd<lb/>and obedient Servant, <lb/>
               <lb/>
               <signed>
                                <hi rend="italic">A. BEHN.</hi>
                            </signed>
               <lb/>
                            <lb/>
                            <lb/>
            </closer>
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      <pb n="1"/>
      

         <div type="text">
         <head type="main">THE<lb/>HISTORY<lb/>OF THE<lb/>Royal Slave.</head>
         <lb/>
            <p>I do not pretend, in giving you the History of this <hi rend="italic">Royal Slave,</hi> to
               entertain my Reader with the Adventures of a feign'd <hi rend="italic">Hero,</hi> whose Life and
               Fortunes Fancy may manage at the Poets Pleasure; nor in relating the Truth, design to
               adorn it with any Accidents, but such as arriv'd in earnest to him: And it shall come
                  <pb n="2"/>simply into the World, recommended by its own proper Merits, and
               natural Intrigues; there being enough of Reality to support it, and to render it
               diverting, without the Addition of Invention.</p>

            <p>I was my self an <ref target="Eye-Witness_" corresp="Eye-Witness">Eye-Witness,</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Eye-Witness" target="Eye-Witness_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Not
                  only one who has observed something firsthand, but in a legal sense, one who is
                  "able to describe or testify to it." Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> to
               a great part, of what you will find here set down; and what I cou'd not be Witness
               of, I receiv'd from the Mouth of the chief Actor in this History, the <hi rend="italic">Hero</hi>
               himself, who gave us the whole Transactions of his Youth; and though I shall omit,
               for Brevity's sake, a thousand little Accidents of his Life, which, however pleasant
               to us, where History was scarce, and Adventures very rare; yet might prove tedious
               and heavy to my Reader, in a World where he finds Diversions for every Minute,<pb n="3"/> new and strange: But we who were perfectly charm'd with the Character of
               this great Man, were curious to gather every Circumstance of his Life.</p>

            <p>The Scene of the last part of his Adventures lies in a Colony in <hi rend="italic">America,</hi>
               called <placeName type="tgn" key="7015386">
                                <ref target="Surinam_" corresp="Surinam">Surinam,</ref>
                            </placeName>
               <note xml:id="Surinam" target="Surinam_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">The name for land that had been carved out as a colony neighbored by Brazil to the south and Guiana to the West. At the time of
                  the action of the story, the colony was in British control, but it was lost to the
                  Dutch shortly thereafter</note> in the <hi rend="italic">West-Indies.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>But before I give you the Story of this <hi rend="italic">Gallant Slave,</hi> 'tis fit I tell you
               the manner of bringing them to these new <hi rend="italic">Colonies;</hi> for those they make use
               of there, are not <hi rend="italic">Natives</hi> of the place; for those we live with in perfect
               Amity, without daring to command 'em; but on the contrary, caress 'em with all the
               brotherly and friendly Affection in the World; trading with 'em for their Fish,
               Venison, Buffilo's, Skins, and little Rarities; as <ref target="Marmosets_" corresp="Marmosets">Marmosets</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Marmosets" target="Marmosets_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">A particularly tiny species of monkey that is,
                  indeed, about the size of a mouse. Notably adorable.</note>, a sort of
                  <hi rend="italic">Monkey</hi> as <pb n="4"/>big as a Rat or Weesel, but of a marvellous and
               delicate shape, and has Face and Hands like an Humane Creature: and <ref target="Cousheries_" corresp="Cousheries">Cousheries,</ref>
               <note xml:id="Cousheries" target="Cousheries_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">It
                  is not clear what kind of animal Behn is referring to here, but it probably a
                  species of feline.</note> a little Beast in the form and fashion of a Lion, as big
               as a Kitten; but so exactly made in all parts like that noble Beast, that it is it in
                  <hi rend="italic">Minature.</hi> Then for little <hi rend="italic">Parakeetoes,</hi> great Parrots,
                  <hi rend="italic">Muckaws,</hi> and a thousand other Birds and Beasts of wonderful and
               surprizing Forms, Shapes, and Colours. For Skins of prodigious Snakes, of which there
               are some threescore Yards in length; as is the Skin of one that may be seen at His
               Majesty's <ref target="Antiquaries_" corresp="Antiquaries">Antiquaries:</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Antiquaries" target="Antiquaries_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">An "antiquary" was
                  a collection of unusual and exotic items. The singular form
                  "antiquary" could describe a collector of antiques or rare objects. "His Majesty's Antiquaries" might, as Behn's biographer Janet Todd has suggested, refer to the Royal Society of London.</note> Where
               are also some rare Flies, of amazing Forms and Colours, presented to 'em by my self;
               some as big as my Fist, some less; and all of various Excellencies, such as Art <pb n="5"/>cannot imitate. Then we trade for Feathers, which they order into all
               Shapes, make themselves little short Habits of 'em, and glorious Wreaths for their
               Heads, Necks, Arms and Legs, whose Tinctures are unconceivable. I had a Set of these
               presented to me, and I gave 'em to the King's Theatre, and it was the Dress of the
                  <ref target="Queen_" corresp="Queen">Indian Queen</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Queen" target="Queen_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Here is an image of
                  the actresses Anne Bracegirdle, dressed as the title role in John Dryden's play <hi rend="italic">The Indian Queen,</hi> (1664) while wearing the feathered headdress referred to in this passage. Whether this headdress
                  was something that Behn herself brought back to England from Surinam in the 1660s is
                  impossible to know at this point. <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/behn-oroonoko/notes/bracegirdle.jpg" alt="Image of Anne Bracegirdle dressed as a native American woman" width="300px" style="float:right" source="British Library under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0" desc="Engraving of Anne Bracegirdle dressed as a native American woman"/> (courtesy British Library under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)</note> infinitely admir'd by Persons
               of Quality; and were unimitable. Besides these, a thousand little Knacks, and
               Rarities in Nature, and some of Art; as their Baskets, Weapons, Aprons,
                  <hi rend="italic">&amp;c.</hi> We dealt with 'em with Beads of all Colours, Knives, Axes, Pins
               and Needles; which they us'd only as Tools to drill <ref target="Holes_" corresp="Holes">Holes</ref>
               <note xml:id="Holes" target="Holes_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Behn is describing the process of piercing ears and other parts of the
                  body</note> with in their Ears, Noses and Lips, where they hang a great many
               little things; as long Beads, bits of Tin,<pb n="6"/>Brass, or Silver, beat thin; and
               any shining Trincket. The Beads they weave into Aprons about a quarter of an Ell
               long, and of the same breadth; working them very prettily in Flowers of several
               Colours of Beads; which Apron they wear just before 'em, as <hi rend="italic">Adam</hi> and
                  <hi rend="italic">Eve</hi> did the Fig-leaves; the Men wearing a long Stripe of Linen, which
               they deal with us for. They thread these Beads also on long Cotton-threads, and make
               Girdles to tie their Aprons to, which come twenty times, or more, about the Waste;
               and then cross, like a Shoulder-belt, both ways, and round their Necks, Arms and
               Legs. This Adornment, with their long black Hair, and the Face painted in little
               Specks or Flowers here and there, makes 'em a wonderful Figure to<pb n="7"/> behold.
               Some of the Beauties which indeed are finely shap'd, as almost all are, and who have
               pretty Features, are very charming and novel; for they have all that is called
               Beauty, except the Colour, which is a reddish Yellow; or after a new Oiling, which
               they often use to themselves, they are of the colour of a new Brick, but smooth, soft
               and sleek. They are extream modest and bashful, very shy, and nice of being touch'd.
               And though they are all thus naked, if one lives for ever among 'em, there is not to
               be seen an indecent Action, or Glance; and being continually us'd to see one another
               so unadorn'd, so like our first Parents before the Fall, it seems as if they had no
               Wishes; there being nothing to heighten Curiosity, but all you can see, you<pb n="8"/> see at once, and every Moment see; and where there is no Novelty, there can be no
               Curiosity. Not but I have seen a handsom young <hi rend="italic">Indian,</hi> dying for Love of a
               very beautiful young <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> Maid; but all his Courtship was, to fold his
               Arms, pursue her with his Eyes, and Sighs were all his Language: While she, as if no
               such Lover were present; or rather, as if she desired none such, carefully guarded
               her Eyes from beholding him; and never approach'd him, but she look'd down with all
               the blushing Modesty I have seen in the most severe and cautious of our World. And
               these People represented to me an absolute <hi rend="italic">Idea</hi> of the first State of
               Innocence, before Man knew how to sin: And 'tis most evident and plain, that simple
               Nature is the most harmless, inoffen<pb n="9"/>sive and vertuous Mistress. 'Tis she
               alone, if she were permitted, that better instructs the World, than all the
               Inventions of Man: Religion wou'd here but destroy that Tranquillity, they possess by
               Ignorance; and Laws wou'd but teach 'em to know Offence, of which now they have no
               Notion. They once made Mourning and Fasting for the Death of the <hi rend="italic">English</hi>
               Governor, who had given his Hand to come on such a Day to 'em, and neither came, nor
               sent; believing, when once a Man's Word was past, nothing but Death cou'd or shou'd
               prevent his keeping it: And when they saw he was not dead, they ask'd him, what Name
               they had for a Man who promis'd a thing he did not do? The Governor told them, Such a
               man was a <hi rend="italic">Lyar,</hi> which<pb n="10"/> was a Word of Infamy to a Gentleman. Then
               one of 'em reply'd, <hi rend="italic">Governor, you are a Lyar, and guilty of that Infamy.</hi>
               They have a Native Justice, which knows no Fraud; and they understand no Vice, or
               Cunning, but when they are taught by the <hi rend="italic">White Men.</hi> They have Plurality of
               Wives, which, when they grow old, they serve those that succeed 'em, who are young;
               but with a Servitude easie and respected; and unless they take Slaves in War, they
               have no other Attendants.</p>

            <p>Those on that <hi rend="italic">Continent</hi> where I was, had no King; but the oldest War-Captain
               was obey'd with great Resignation.</p>

            <p>A War-Captain is a Man who has lead them on to Battel with Conduct, and Success; of
               whom I shall have Occasion to speak<pb n="11"/> more hereafter, and of some other of
               their Customs and Manners, as they fall in my way.</p>

            <p>With these People, as I said, we live in perfect Tranquillity, and good
               Understanding, as it behooves us to do; they knowing all the places where to seek the
               best Food of the Country, and the Means of getting it; and for very small and
               unvaluable Trifles, supply us with what 'tis impossible for us to get; for they do
               not only in the Wood, and over the <hi rend="italic">Sevana's,</hi> in Hunting, supply the parts of
               Hounds, by swiftly scouring through those almost impassable places; and by the meer
               Activity of their Feet, run down the nimblest Deer, and other eatable Beasts: But in
               the water, one wou'd think they were Gods of the Rivers, or Fellow-Citizens of the
                  <pb n="12"/>Deep; so rare an Art they have in Swimming, Diving, and almost Living
               in Water; by which they command the less swift Inhabitants of the Floods. And then
               for Shooting; what they cannot take, or reach with their Hands, they do with Arrows;
               and have so admirable an Aim, that they will split almost an Hair; and at any
               distance that an Arrow can reach, they will shoot down Oranges, and other Fruit, and
               only touch the Stalk with the Dart's Points, that they may not hurt the Fruit. So
               that they being, on all Occasions, very useful to us, we find it absolutely necessary
               to caress 'em as Friends, and not to treat 'em as Slaves; nor dare we do other, their
               Numbers so far surpassing ours in that <hi rend="italic">Continent.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>
                            <pb n="13"/>Those then whom we make use of to work in our Plantations of Sugar, are
                  <hi rend="italic">Negro's, Black-</hi>Slaves altogether; which are transported thither in this
               manner.</p>

            <p>Those who want Slaves, make a Bargain with a Master, or Captain of a Ship, and
               contract to pay him so much a-piece, a matter of twenty Pound a Head for as many as
               he agrees for, and to pay for 'em when they shall be deliver'd on such a Plantation:
               So that when there arrives a Ship laden with Slaves, they who have so contracted, go
               a-board, and receive their Number by Lot; and perhaps in one Lot that may be for ten,
               there may happen to be three or four Men; the rest, Women and Children: Or be there
               more or less of either Sex, you are oblig'd to be contented with your Lot.</p>

            <pb n="14"/>
            <p>
                            <ref target="Coramantien_" corresp="Coramantien">Coramantien</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Coramantien" target="Coramantien_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Coramantien, or Kormantine, was the name both of a slave-trading castle, depicted here, and of the coastal area of what is now the
                  nation of Ghana where several such fortified trading posts were located. In the
                  1660s, when this story is set, both English and Dutch slave traders used the fort
                  at Coramantien. By the late seventeenth century, it was controlled by the Dutch,
                  who renamed it Fort Amsterdam. Its ruins can still be visited today.
                        <graphic url="https://lic-assets-staging.s3.amazonaws.com/behn-oroonoko/notes/FortAmsterdamCormantine.jpeg" alt="Engraving of fortress known as Coramantien" width="300px" style="float:right" source="Wikimedia Commons" desc="Wikimedia Commons"/>
                            </note>, a Country of <hi rend="italic">Blacks</hi> so called, was one of those places in which
               they found the most advantageous Trading for these Slaves; and thither most of our
               great Traders in that Merchandice traffick'd; for that Nation is very war-like and
               brave; and having a continual Campaign, being always in Hostility with one
               neighbouring Prince or other, they had the fortune to take a great many Captives; for
               all they took in Battel, were sold as Slaves; at least, those common Men who cou'd
               not ransom themselves. Of these Slaves so taken, the General only has all the profit;
               and of these Generals, our Captains and Masters of Ships buy all their Freights.</p>

            <p>The King of <placeName type="tgn" key="7015386">
                                <hi rend="italic">Coramantien</hi>
                            </placeName> was himself a Man of a Hundred and<pb n="15"/> odd
               Years old, and had no Son, though he had many beautiful <hi rend="italic">Black </hi>Wives; for
               most certainly, there are Beauties that can charm of that Colour. In his younger
               Years he had had many gallant Men to his Sons, thirteen of which died in Battel,
               conquering when they fell; and he had only left him for his Successor, one
               Grand-Child, Son to one of these dead Victors; who, as soon as he cou'd bear a Bow in
               his Hand, and a Quiver at his Back, was sent into the Field, to be trained up by one
               of the oldest Generals, to War; where, from his natural Inclination to Arms, and the
               Occasions given him, with the good Conduct of the old General, he became, at the Age
               of Seventeen, one of the most expert Captains, and bravest Soldiers, that ever saw
                  <pb n="16"/>the Field of <hi rend="italic">Mars:</hi> So that he was ador'd as the Wonder of all
               that World, and the Darling of the Soldiers. Besides, he was adorn'd with a native
               Beauty so transcending all those of his gloomy Race, that he strook an Awe and
               Reverence, even in those that knew not his Quality; as he did in me, who beheld him
               with Surprize and Wonder, when afterwards he arriv'd in our World.</p>

            <p>He had scarce arriv'd at his Seventeenth Year, when fighting by his Side, the General
               was kill'd with an Arrow in his Eye, which the Prince <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> (for so was
               this gallant <hi rend="italic">Moor</hi> call'd) very narrowly avoided; nor had he, if the General,
               who saw the Arrow shot, and perceiving it aim'd at the Prince, had not bow'd his Head
               between, on purpose to receive it in his own <pb n="17"/>Body rather than it shou'd
               touch that of the Prince, and so saved him.</p>

            <p>'Twas then, afflicted as <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> was, that he was proclaim'd Genéral in the
               old Man's place; and then it was, at the finishing of that War, which had continu'd
               for two Years, that the Prince came to Court; where he had hardly been a Month
               together, from the time of his fifth Year, to that of Seventeen; and 'twas amazing to
               imagine where it was he learn'd so much Humanity; or, to give his Accomplishments a
               juster Name, where 'twas he got that real Greatness of Soul, those refin'd Notions of
               true Honour, that absolute Generosity, and that Softness that was capable of the
               highest Passions of Love and Gallantry, whose Objects were almost<pb n="18"/>
               continually fighting Men, or those mangl'd, or dead; who heard no Sounds, but those
               of War and Groans: Some part of it we may attribute to the Care of a
               <hi rend="italic">French-</hi>Man of Wit and Learning; who finding it turn to very good Account to
               be a sort of Royal Tutor to this young <hi rend="italic">Black,</hi> &amp; perceiving him very
               ready, apt, and quick of Apprehension, took a great pleasure to teach him Morals,
               Language and Science; and was for it extreamly belov'd and valu'd by him. Another
               Reason was, He lov'd, when he came from War, to see all the <hi rend="italic">English</hi>
               Gentlemen that traded thither; and did not only learn their Language, but that of the
                  <hi rend="italic">Spaniards</hi> also, with whom he traded afterwards for Slaves.</p>

            <p>I have often seen and convers'd with this great Man, and been a <pb n="19"/>Witness
               to many of his mighty Actions; and do assure my Reader, the most Illustrious Courts
               cou'd not have produc'd a braver Man, both for Greatness of Courage and Mind, a
               Judgment more solid, a Wit more quick, and a Conversation more sweet and diverting.
               He knew almost as much as if he had read much: He had heard of, and admir'd the
                  <hi rend="italic">Romans;</hi> he had heard of the late <ref target="Civil_" corresp="Civil">Civil
                  Wars</ref> in <hi rend="italic">England,</hi>
               <note xml:id="Civil" target="Civil_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">The English Civil Wars of 1642 1649 between the supporters of the Stuart monarchy
                  and the supporters of Parliament, which led to the execution of Charles I in
                  1649.</note> and the deplorable Death of our great Monarch; and wou'd discourse of
               it with all the Sense, and Abhorrence of the Injustice imaginable. He had an extream
               good and graceful Mien, and all the Civility of a well-bred great Man. He had nothing
               of Barbarity in his Nature, but in all Points address'd himself, as if his Education
               had been in some <hi rend="italic">European</hi> Court.</p>

            <pb n="20"/>
            <p> This great and just Character of <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> gave me an extream Curiosity to
               see him, especially when I knew he spoke <ref target="French_" corresp="French">French and
                  English</ref>
                            <note xml:id="French" target="French_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Behn's emphasis on Oroonoko's knowledge of French
                  and English associates him with civilized Europeans; eloquent Africans in European
                  literature were often imagined as here, as more European than African.</note>, and
               that I cou'd talk with him. But though I had heard so much of him, I was as greatly
               surpriz'd when I saw him, as if I had heard nothing of him; so beyond all Report I
               found him. He came into the Room, and address'd himself to me, and some other Women,
               with the best Grace in the World. He was pretty tall, but of a Shape the most exact
               that can be fansy'd: The most famous <ref target="Statuary_" corresp="Statuary">Statuary</ref>
               <note xml:id="Statuary" target="Statuary_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">An
                  artist who makes statues, a sculptor of statues. Source: Oxford English
                  Dictionary</note>cou'd not form the Figure of a Man more admirably turn'd from
               Head to Foot. His Face was not of that brown, rusty Black which most of that Nation
               are, but a perfect Ebony, or polish'd Jett. His Eyes were the most<pb n="21"/>
                            <ref target="awful_" corresp="awful">awful</ref>
               <note xml:id="awful" target="awful_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">awe-inspiring</note>that cou'd be seen, and very piercing; the White of 'em being
               like Snow, as were his Teeth. His Nose was rising and <hi rend="italic">Roman,</hi> instead of
                  <hi rend="italic">African</hi> and flat. His Mouth, the finest shap'd that cou'd be seen; far
               from those great turn'd Lips, which are so natural to the rest of the
                  <hi rend="italic">Negroes.</hi> The whole Proportion and Air of his Face was so noble, and
               exactly form'd, that, <ref target="bating_" corresp="bating">bating</ref>
               <note xml:id="bating" target="bating_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">excepting</note>his Colour, there cou'd be nothing in Nature more beautiful,
               agreeable and handsome. There was no one Grace wanting, that bears the Standard of
               true Beauty: His Hair came down to his Shoulders, by the Aids of Art; which was, by
               pulling it out with a Quill, and keeping it comb'd; of which he took particular Care.
               Nor did the Perfections of his Mind come short of <pb n="22"/>those of his Person;
               for his Discourse was admirable upon almost any Subject; and who-ever had heard him
               speak, wou'd have been convinc'd of their Errors, that all fine Wit is confin'd to
               the <hi rend="italic">White</hi> Men, especially to those of <hi rend="italic">Christendom;</hi> and wou'd have
               confess'd that <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> was as capable even of reigning well, and of
               governing as wisely, had as great a Soul, as <ref target="politick_" corresp="politick">politick</ref>
               <note xml:id="politick" target="politick" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">prudent, shrewd, sagacious. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>Maxims, and
               was as sensible of Power as any Prince civiliz'd in the most refin'd Schools of
               Humanity and Learning, or the most Illustrious Courts.</p>


            

            <p>This Prince, such as I have describ'd him, whose Soul and Body were so admirably
               adorn'd, was (while yet he was in the Court of his Grandfather) as I said, as capable
               of Love, as 'twas possible for a brave and gallant Man to be;<pb n="23"/>and in
               saying that, I have nam'd the highest Degree of Love; for sure, great Souls are most
               capable of that Passion.</p>

            <p>I have already said, the old General was kill'd by the shot of an Arrow, by the Side
               of this Prince, in Battel; and that <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> was made General. This old dead
                  <hi rend="italic">Hero</hi> had one only Daughter left of his Race; a Beauty that, to describe
               her truly, one need say only, she was Female to the noble Male; the beautiful
                  <hi rend="italic">Black Venus,</hi> to our young <hi rend="italic">Mars;</hi> as charming in her Person as he,
               and of delicate Vertues. I have seen an hundred <hi rend="italic">White</hi> Men sighing after her,
               and making a thousand Vows at her Feet, all vain, and unsuccessful: And she was,
               indeed, too great for any, but a Prince of her own Nation to adore.</p>
            <pb n="24"/>

            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> coming from the Wars, (which were now ended) after he had made his
               Court to his Grandfather, he thought in Honour he ought to make a Visit to
                  <hi rend="italic">Imoinda,</hi> the Daughter of his Foster-father, the dead General; and to make
               some Excuses to her, because his Preservation was the Occasion of her Father's Death;
               and to present her with those Slaves that had been taken in this last Battel, as the
               Trophies of her Father's Victories. When he came, attended by all the young Soldiers
               of any Merit, he was infinitely surpriz'd at the Beauty of this fair Queen of Night,
               whose Face and Person was so exceeding all he had ever beheld, that lovely Modesty
               with which she receiv'd him, that Softness in her Look, and Sighs, upon the
               melancholy Occasion of <pb n="25"/>this Honour that was done by so great a Man as
                  <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko,</hi> and a Prince of whom she had heard such admirable things; the
               Awfulness wherewith she receiv'd him, and the Sweetness of her Words and Behaviour
               while he stay'd, gain'd a perfect Conquest over his fierce Heart, and made him feel,
               the Victor cou'd be subdu'd. So that having made his first Complements, and presented
               her an hundred and fifty Slaves in Fetters, he told her with his Eyes, that he was
               not insensible of her Charms; while <hi rend="italic">Imoinda,</hi> who wish'd for nothing more
               than so glorious a Conquest, was pleas'd to believe, she understood that silent
               Language of new-born Love; and from that Moment, put on all her Additions to
               Beauty.</p>

            <p>
               <pb n="26"/> The Prince return'd to Court with quite another Humour than before; and
               though he did not speak much of the fair <hi rend="italic">Imoinda,</hi> he had the pleasure to
               hear all his Followers speak of nothing but the Charms of that Maid; insomuch that,
               even in the Presence of the old King, they were extolling her, and heightning, if
               possible, the Beauties they had found in her: So that nothing else was talk'd of, no
               other Sound was heard in every Corner where there were Whisperers, but <hi rend="italic">Imoinda!
                  Imoinda!</hi>
            </p>

            <p>'Twill be imagin'd <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> stay'd not long before he made his second Visit;
               nor, considering his Quality, not much longer before he told her, he ador'd her. I
               have often heard him say, that he admir'd by what strange Inspiration he came to talk
               things so soft, and<pb n="27"/> so passionate, who never knew Love, nor was us'd to
               the Conversation of Women; but (to use his own Words) he said, Most happily, some
               new, and till then unknown Power instructed his Heart and Tongue in the Language of
               Love, and at the same time, in favour of him, inspir'd <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> with a Sense
               of his Passion. She was touch'd with what he said, and return'd it all in such
               Answers as went to his very Heart, with a Pleasure unknown before: Nor did he use
               those Obligations ill, that Love had done him; but turn'd all his happy Moments to
               the best advantage; and as he knew no Vice, his Flame aim'd at nothing but Honour, if
               such a distinction may be made in Love; and especially in that Country, where Men
               take to themselves as many<pb n="28"/> as they can maintain; and where the only Crime
               and Sin with Woman is, to turn her off, to abandon her to Want, Shame and Misery:
               Such ill Morals are only practis'd in <hi rend="italic">Christian-</hi>Countries, where they prefer
               the bare Name of Religion; and, without Vertue or Morality, think that's sufficient.
               But <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> was none of those Professors; but as he had right Notions of
               Honour, so he made her such Propositions as were not only and barely such; but,
               contrary to the Custom of his Country, he made her Vows, she shou'd be the only woman
               he wou'd possess while he liv'd; that no Age or Wrinkles shou'd incline him to
               change, for her Soul wou'd be always fine, and always young; and he shou'd have an
               eternal <hi rend="italic">Idea</hi> in his Mind of the Charms she now <pb n="29"/>bore, and shou'd
               look into his Heart for that <hi rend="italic">Idea,</hi> when he cou'd find it no longer in her
               Face.</p>

            <p>After a thousand Assurances of his lasting Flame, and her eternal Empire over him,
               she condescended to receive him for her Husband; or rather, receiv'd him, as the
               greatest Honour the God's cou'd do her.</p>

            <p>There is a certain Ceremony in these Cases to be observ'd, which I forgot to ask him
               how perform'd; but 'twas concluded on both sides, that, in Obedience to him, the
               Grand-father was to be first made acquainted with the Design: for they pay a most
               absolute Resignation to the Monarch, especially when he is a Parent also.</p>

            <p>On the other side, the old King, who had many Wives, and many<pb n="30"/> Concubines,
               wanted not Court-Flatterers to insinuate in his Heart a thousand tender Thoughts for
               this young Beauty; and who represented her to his Fancy, as the most charming he had
               ever possess'd in all the long Race of his numerous Years. At this Character his old
               Heart, like an extinguish'd Brand, most apt to take Fire, felt new Sparks of Love,
               and began to kindle; and now grown to his second Childhood, long'd with Impatience to
               behold this gay thing, with whom, alas! he cou'd but innocently play. But how he
               shou'd be confirm'd she was this <hi rend="italic">Wonder,</hi> before he us'd his Power to call
               her to Court (where Maidens never came, unless for the King's private Use) he was
               next to consider; and while he was so doing, he had Intelligence <pb n="31"/>brought
               him, that <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> was most certainly Mistress to the Prince
                  <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko.</hi> This gave him some <hi rend="italic">Shagrien;</hi> however, it gave him also
               an Opportunity, one Day, when the Prince was a-hunting, to wait on a Man of Quality,
               as his Slave and Attendant, who shou'd go and make a Present to <hi rend="italic">Imoinda,</hi> as
               from the Prince; he shou'd then, unknown, see this fair Maid, and have an Opportunity
               to hear what Message she wou'd return the Prince for his Present; and from thence
               gather the state of her Heart, and degree of her Inclination. This was put in
               Execution, and the old Monarch saw, and burnt: He found her all he had heard, and
               wou'd not delay his Happiness, but found he shou'd have some Obstacle to overcome her
               Heart; for she express'd <pb n="32"/>her Sense of the Present the Prince had sent
               her, in terms so sweet, so soft and pretty, with an Air of Love and Joy that cou'd
               not be dissembl'd; insomuch that 'twas past doubt whether she lov'd <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi>
               entirely. This gave the old King some Affliction; but he salv'd it with this, that
               the Obedience the People pay their King, was not at all inferior to what they pay'd
               their Gods: And what Love wou'd not oblige <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> to do, Duty wou'd compel
               her to.</p>

            <p>He was therefore no sooner got to his Apartment, but he sent the Royal Veil to
                  <hi rend="italic">Imoinda;</hi> that is, the Ceremony of Invitation; he sends the Lady, he has a
               Mind to honour with his Bed, a Veil, with which she is cover'd, and secur'd for the
               King's Use; and 'tis Death to disobey; besides, held a most impious Disobedience.</p>

            <p>
               <pb n="33"/> 'Tis not to be imagin'd the Surprize and Grief that seiz'd this lovely
               Maid at this News and Sight. However, as Delays in these Cases are dangerous, and
               Pleading worse than Treason; trembling, and almost fainting, she was oblig'd to
               suffer her self to be cover'd, and led away.</p>

            <p>They brought her thus to Court; and the King, who had caus'd a very rich Bath to be
               prepar'd, was led into it, where he sate under a Canopy, in State, to receive this
               long'd for Virgin; whom he having commanded shou'd be brought to him, they (after
               dis-robing her) led her to the Bath, and making fast the Doors, left her to descend.
               The King, without more Courtship, bad her throw off her Mantle, and come to his Arms.
               But <hi rend="italic">Imoinda,</hi> all in <pb n="34"/> Tears, threw her self on the Marble, on the
               Brink of the Bath, and besought him to hear her. She told him, as she was a Maid, how
               proud of the Divine Glory she should have been of having it in her power to oblige
               her King: but as by the Laws, he cou'd not; and from his Royal Goodness, wou'd not
               take from any Man his wedded Wife: So she believ'd she shou'd be the Occasion of
               making him commit a great Sin, if she did not reveal her State and Condition; and
               tell him, she was anothers, and cou'd not be so happy to be his.</p>

            <p>The King, enrag'd at this Delay, hastily demanded the Name of the bold Man, that had
               marry'd a Woman of her Degree, without his Consent. <hi rend="italic">Imoinda,</hi> seeing his Eyes
               fierce, and his Hands tremble; <pb n="35"/>whether with Age, or Anger, I know not;
               but she fansy'd the last, almost repented she had said so much, for now she fear'd
               the Storm wou'd fall on the Prince; she therefore said a thousand things to appease
               the raging of his Flame, and to prepare him to hear who it was with Calmness; but
               before she spoke, he imagin'd who she meant, but wou'd not seem to do so, but
               commanded her to lay aside her <ref target="Mantle_" corresp="Mantle">Mantle</ref>
               <note xml:id="Mantle" target="Mantle_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">a
                  protective cloak or garment; a loose, sleeveless cloak. Source: Oxford English
                  Dictionary</note>, and suffer her self to receive his Caresses; or, by his Gods,
               he swore, that happy Man whom she was going to name shou'd die, though it were even
                  <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> himself. <hi rend="italic">Therefore</hi> (said he) <hi rend="italic">deny this Marriage,
                  and swear thy self a Maid. That</hi> (reply'd <hi rend="italic">Imoinda) by all our Powers I do;
                  for I am not yet known to my Husband. 'Tis enough</hi> (said the King:) <hi rend="italic">'tis
                  enough</hi>
                            <pb n="36"/>
               <hi rend="italic">to satisfie both my Conscience, and my Heart.</hi> And rising from his Seat, he
               went, and led her into the Bath; it being in vain for her to resist.</p>

            <p>In this time the Prince, who was return'd from Hunting, went to visit his
                  <hi rend="italic">Imoinda,</hi> but found her gone; and not only so, but heard she had receiv'd
               the <ref target="Royal_" corresp="Royal">Royal Veil</ref>
               <note xml:id="Royal" target="Royal_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">A
                  veil delivered by the king as an invitation to his harem.</note>. This rais'd him
               to a Storm; and in his Madness, they had much ado to save him from laying violent
               Hands on himself. Force first prevail'd, and then Reason: They urg'd all to him, that
               might oppose his Rage; but nothing weigh'd so greatly with him as the King's Old Age
               uncapable of <ref target="injuring_" corresp="injuring">injuring him</ref>
               <note xml:id="injuring" target="injuring_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">That is, the King is impotent. It's notable that the narrator thinks first of the
                  potential cost to Oroonoko rather than the cost to Imoinda.</note> with
                  <hi rend="italic">Imoinda.</hi> He wou'd give way to that Hope, because it pleas'd him most, and
               flatter'd best his Heart. Yet this <pb n="37"/>serv'd not altogether to make him
               cease his different Passions, which sometimes rag'd within him, and sometimes softned
               into Showers. 'Twas not enough to appease him, to tell him, his Grand-father was old,
               and cou'd not that way injure him, while he retain'd that awful Duty which the young
               Men are us'd there to pay to their grave Relations. He cou'd not be convinc'd he had
               no Cause to sigh and mourn for the Loss of a Mistress, he cou'd not with all his
               Strength and Courage retrieve. And he wou'd often cry, <hi rend="italic">O my Friends! were she in
                  wall'd Cities, or confin'd from me in Fortifications of the greatest Strength; did
                  Inchantments or Monsters detain her from me, I wou'd venture through any Hazard to
                  free her: Buthere, in the Arms of a feeble old Man, my Youth, my violent Love, my
                  Trade</hi>
                            <pb n="38"/>
                            <hi rend="italic">in Arms, and all my vast Desire of Glory, avail me
                  nothing:</hi> Imoinda <hi rend="italic">is as irrecoverably lost to me, as if she were snatch'd
                  by the cold Arms of Death: Oh! she is never to be retriev'd. If I wou'd wait
                  tedious Years, till Fate shou'd bow the old King to his Grave; even that wou'd not
                  leave me</hi> Imoinda <hi rend="italic">free; but still that Custom that makes it so vile a
                  Crime for a Son to marry his Father's Wives or Mistresses, wou'd hinder my
                  Happiness; unless I wou'd either ignobly set an ill President to my Successors, or
                  abandon my Country, and fly with her to some unknown World, who never heard our
                  Story.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>But it was objected to him, that his Case was not the same; for <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi>
               being his lawful Wife, by solemn Contract, 'twas he was the injur'd Man, and might,
               if he so pleas'd, take <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> back, the <pb n="39"/>Breach of the Law being
               on his Grand-father's side; and that if he cou'd circumvent him, and redeem her from
               the <ref target="Otan_" corresp="Otan">Otan</ref>
               <note xml:id="Otan" target="Otan_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">"Otan" seems to be derived from the Turkish word "odan," referring to a room or
                  small enclosure in a harem. This is one of the moments when this part of the
                  story, though set in Africa, feels more like an "Oriental" tale.</note>, which is
               the Palace of the King's Women, a sort of <hi rend="italic">Seraglio,</hi> it was both just and
               lawful for him so to do.</p>

            <p>This Reasoning had some force upon him, and he shou'd have been entirely comforted,
               but for the Thought that she was possess'd by his Grand-father. However, he lov'd so
               well, that he was resolv'd to believe what most favour'd his Hope; and to endeavour
               to learn from <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi>'s own Mouth, what only she cou'd satisfie him in;
               whether she was robb'd of that Blessing, which was only due to his Faith and Love.
               But as it was very hard to get a Sight of the Women, for no Men ever enter'd into the
                  <hi rend="italic">Otan,</hi> but when<pb n="40"/> the King went to entertain himself with some
               one of his Wives, or Mistresses; and 'twas Death at any other time, for any other to
               go in; so he knew not how to contrive to get a Sight of her.</p>


            
            <p>While <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> felt all the Agonies of Love, and suffer'd under a Torment
               the most painful in the World, the old King was not exempted from his share of
               Affliction. He was troubl'd for having been forc'd by an irresistable Passion, to rob
               his <ref target="Son_" corresp="Son">Son</ref>
               <note xml:id="Son" target="Son_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Oroonoko is actually his grandson.</note> of a Treasure, he knew, cou'd not but
               be extreamly dear to him, since she was the most beautiful that ever had been seen;
               and had besides, all the Sweetness and Innocence of Youth and Modesty, with a Charm
               of Wit surpassing all. He found that, however she was forc'd to expose her lovely
               Person to his wither'd Arms, she <pb n="41"/>cou'd only sigh and weep there, and
               think of <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko;</hi> and oftentimes cou'd not forbear speaking of him, though
               her Life were, by Custom, forfeited by owning her Passion. But she spoke not of a
               Lover only, but of a Prince dear to him, to whom she spoke; and of the Praises of a
               Man, who, till now, fill'd the old Man's Soul with Joy at every Recital of his
               Bravery, or even his Name. And 'twas this Dotage on our young <hi rend="italic">Hero,</hi> that
               gave <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> a thousand Privileges to speak of him, without offending; and
               this Condescention in the old King, that made her take the Satisfaction of speaking
               of him so very often.</p>

            <p>Besides, he many times enquir'd how the Prince bore himself; and those of whom he
               ask'd, being entirely Slaves to the Merits and Vertues <pb n="42"/> of the Prince,
               still answer'd what they thought conduc'd best to his Service; which was, to make the
               old King fansy that the Prince had no more Interest in <hi rend="italic">Imoinda,</hi> and had
               resign'd her willingly to the Pleasure of the King; that he diverted himself with his
               Mathematicians, his Fortifications, his Officers, and his Hunting.</p>

            <p>This pleas'd the old Lover, who fail'd not to report these things again to
                  <hi rend="italic">Imoinda,</hi> that she might, by the Example of her young Lover, withdraw her
               Heart, and rest better contented in his Arms. But however she was forc'd to receive
               this unwelcome News, in all Appearance, with Unconcern, and Content, her Heart was
               bursting within, and she was only happy when she cou'd get alone, to vent her Griefs
               and Moans with Sighs and Tears.</p>

            <p>
               <pb n="43"/> What Reports of the Prince's Conduct were made to the King, he thought
               good to justifie as far as possibly he cou'd by his Actions; and when he appear'd in
               the Presence of the King, he shew'd a Face not at all betraying his Heart: So that in
               a little time the old Man, being entirely convinc'd that he was no longer a Lover of
                  <hi rend="italic">Imoinda,</hi> he carry'd him with him, in his Train, to the <hi rend="italic">Otan,</hi>
               often to banquet with his Mistress. But as soon as he enter'd, one Day, into the
               Apartment of <hi rend="italic">Imoinda,</hi> with the King, at the first Glance from her Eyes,
               notwithstanding all his determin d Resolution, he was ready to sink in the place
               where he stood; and had certainly done so, but for the Support of <hi rend="italic">Aboan,</hi> a
               young Man, who was next to him; which, with his Change of Countenance,<pb n="44"/>
               had betray'd him, had the King chanc'd to look that way. And I have observ'd, 'tis a
               very great Error in those, who laugh when one says, <hi rend="italic">A</hi> Negro <hi rend="italic">can change
                  Colour;</hi> for I have seen 'em as frequently blush, and look pale, and that as
               visibly as ever I saw in the most beautiful <hi rend="italic">White.</hi> And 'tis certain that
               both these Changes were evident, this Day, in both these Lovers. And
                  <hi rend="italic">Imoinda,</hi> who saw with some Joy the Change in the Prince's Face, and found
               it in her own, strove to divert the King from beholding either, by a forc'd Caress,
               with which she met him; which was a new Wound in the Heart of the poor dying Prince.
               But as soon as the King was busy'd in looking on some fine thing of
               <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi>'s making, she had time to tell the Prince with her angry,<pb n="45"/> but Love-darting Eyes, that she resented his Coldness, and bemoan'd her own
               miserable Captivity. Nor were his Eyes silent, but answer'd hers again, as much as
               Eyes cou'd do, instructed by the most tender, and most passionate Heart that ever
               lov'd: And they spoke so well, and so effectually, as <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> no longer
               doubted, but she was the only Delight, and the Darling of that Soul she found
               pleading in 'em its Right of Love, which none was more willing to resign than she.
               And 'twas this powerful Language alone that in an Instant convey'd all the Thoughts
               of their Souls to each other; that they both found, there wanted but Opportunity to
               make them both entirely happy. But when he saw another Door open'd by
                  <hi rend="italic">Onahal,</hi> a former old Wife of <pb n="46"/>the King's, who now had Charge
               of <hi rend="italic">Imoinda;</hi> and saw the Prospect of a Bed of State made ready, with Sweets
               and Flowers for the Dalliance of the King; who immediately lead the trembling Victim
               from his Sight, into that prepar'd Repose. What Rage! what wild Frenzies seiz'd his
               Heart! which forcing to keep within Bounds, and to suffer without Noise, it became
               the more insupportable, and rent his Soul with ten thousand Pains. He was forc'd to
               retire, to vent his Groans; where he fell down on a Carpet, and lay struggling a long
               time, and only breathing now and then,—<hi rend="italic">O Imoinda!</hi> When <hi rend="italic">Onahal</hi> had
               finish'd her necessary Affair within, shutting the Door, she came forth to wait, till
               the King call'd; and hearing some one sighing in the other<pb n="47"/> Room, she
               pass'd on, and found the Prince in that deplorable Condition, which she thought
               needed her Aid: She gave him Cordials, but all in vain; till finding the nature of
               his Disease, by his Sighs, and naming <hi rend="italic">Imoinda.</hi> She told him, he had not so
               much Cause as he imagin'd, to afflict himself; for if he knew the King so well as she
               did, he wou'd not lose a Moment in Jealousie, and that she was confident that
                  <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> bore, at this Minute, part in his Affliction. <hi rend="italic">Aboan</hi> was
               of the same Opinion; and both together, perswaded him to re-assume his Courage; and
               all sitting down on the Carpet, the Prince said so many obliging things to
                  <hi rend="italic">Onahal,</hi> that he half perswaded her to be of his Party. And she promis'd
               him, she wou'd thus far comply with his just Desires, that she<pb n="48"/> wou'd let
                  <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> know how faithful he was, what he suffer'd, and what he said.</p>

            <p>This Discourse lasted till the King call'd, which gave <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> a certain
               Satisfaction; and with the Hope <hi rend="italic">Onahal</hi> had made him conceive, he assum'd a
               Look as gay as 'twas possible a Man in his Circumstances cou'd do; and presently
               after, he was call'd in with the rest who waited without. The King commanded Musick
               to be brought, and several of his young Wives and Mistresses came all together by his
               Command, to dance before him; where <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> perform'd her Part with an Air
               and Grace so passing all the rest, as her Beauty was above 'em; and receiv'd the
               Present, ordain'd as a Prize. The Prince was every Moment more charm'd with the <pb n="49"/> new Beauties and Graces he beheld in this fair One: And while he gaz'd,
               and she danc'd, <hi rend="italic">Onahal</hi> was retir'd to a Window with <hi rend="italic">Aboan.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>This <hi rend="italic">Onahal,</hi> as I said, was one of the <ref target="Cast-Mistress_" corresp="Cast-Mistress">Cast-Mistresses</ref>
               <note xml:id="Cast-Mistress" target="Cast-Mistress_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Discarded, former mistresses</note> of the old King; and 'twas these (now past
               their Beauty) that were made Guardians, or Governants to the new, and the young Ones;
               and whose Business it was, to teach them all those wanton Arts of Love, with which
               they prevail'd and charm'd heretofore in their Turn; and who now treated the
               triumphing happy Ones with all the Severity, as to Liberty and Freedom, that was
               possible, in revenge of those Honours they rob them of; envying them those
               Satisfactions, those Gallantries and Presents, that were once made to themselves,
               while Youth and <pb n="50"/>Beauty lasted, and which they now saw pass were
               regardless by, and pay'd only to the Bloomings. And certainly, nothing is more
               afflicting to a decay'd Beauty, than to behold in it self declining Charms, that were
               once ador'd; and to find those Caresses paid to new Beauties, to which once she laid
               a Claim; to hear 'em whisper as she passes by, <hi rend="italic">That once was a delicate
                  Woman.</hi> These abandon'd Ladies therefore endeavour to revenge all the
               Despights, and Decays of Time, on these flourishing happy Ones. And 'twas this
               Severity, that gave <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> a thousand Fears he shou'd never prevail with
                  <hi rend="italic">Onahal,</hi> to see <hi rend="italic">Imoinda.</hi> But, as I said, she was now retir'd to a
               Window with <hi rend="italic">Aboan.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>This young Man was not only one of the best Quality, but a Man <pb n="51"/>extreamly
               well made, and beautiful; and coming often to attend the King to the <hi rend="italic">Otan,</hi>
               he had subdu'd the Heart of the antiquated <hi rend="italic">Onahal,</hi> which had not forgot how
               pleasant it was to be in Love: And though she had some Decays in her Face, she had
               none in her Sence and Wit; she was there agreeable still, even to <hi rend="italic">Aboan</hi>'s
               Youth; so that he took pleasure in entertaining her with Discourses of Love: He knew
               also, that to make his Court to these She-Favourites, was the way to be great; these
               being the Persons that do all Affairs and Business at Court. He had also observ'd
               that she had given him Glances more tender and inviting, than she had done to others
               of his Quality: And now, when he saw that her Favour cou'd so absolutely oblige the
               Prince, he<pb n="52"/> fail'd not to sigh in her Ear, and to look with Eyes all soft
               upon her, and give her Hope that she had made some Impressions on his Heart. He found
               her pleas'd at this, and making a thousand Advances to him; but the Ceremony ending,
               and the King departing, broke up the Company for that Day, and his Conversation.</p>

            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Aboan</hi> fail'd not that Night to tell the Prince of his Success, and how
               advantageous the Service of <hi rend="italic">Onahal</hi> might be to his Amour with
                  <hi rend="italic">Imoinda.</hi> The Prince was overjoy'd with this good News, and besought him,
               if it were possible, to caress her so, as to engage her entirely; which he cou'd not
               fail to do, if he comply'd with her Desires: <hi rend="italic">For then</hi> (said the Prince)
                  <hi rend="italic">her Life lying at your Mercy, she must grant you the Request you make in
                  my</hi>
                            <pb n="53"/>
                            <hi rend="italic">Behalf. Aboan</hi> understood him; and assur'd him, he
               would make Love so effectually, that he wou'd defie the most expert Mistress of the
               Art, to find out whether he dissembl'd it, or had it really. And 'twas with
               Impatience they waited the next Opportunity of going to the <hi rend="italic">Otan.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>The Wars came on, the Time of taking the Field approach'd, and 'twas impossible for
               the Prince to delay his going at the Head of his Army, to encounter the Enemy: So
               that every Day seem'd a tedious Year, till he saw his <hi rend="italic">Imoinda;</hi> for he
               believ'd he cou'd not live, if he were forc'd away without being so happy. 'Twas with
               Impatience therefore, that he expected the next Visit the King wou'd make; and,
               according to his Wish, it was not long.</p>

            <p>
               <pb n="54"/> The Parley of the Eyes of these two Lovers had not pass'd so secretly,
               but an old jealous Lover cou'd spy it; or rather, he wanted not Flatterers, who told
               him, they observ'd it: So that the Prince was hasten'd to the Camp, and this was the
               last Visit he found he shou'd make to the <hi rend="italic">Otan;</hi> he therefore urg'd
                  <hi rend="italic">Aboan</hi> to make the best of this last Effort, and to explain himself so to
                  <hi rend="italic">Onahal,</hi> that she, deferring her Enjoyment of her young Lover no longer,
               might make way for the Prince to speak to <hi rend="italic">Imoinda.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>The whole Affair being agreed on between the Prince and <hi rend="italic">Aboan,</hi> they attended
               the King, as the Custom was, to the <hi rend="italic">Otan;</hi> where, while the whole Company was
               taken up in beholding the Dancing, and antick Postures the Women<pb n="55"/> Royal
               made, to divert the King, <hi rend="italic">Onahal</hi> singl'd out <hi rend="italic">Aboan,</hi> whom she found
               most pliable to her Wish. When she had him where she believ'd she cou'd not be heard,
               she sigh'd to him, and softly cry'd, <hi rend="italic">Ah,</hi> Aboan! <hi rend="italic">When will you be
                  sensible of my Passion? I confess it with my Mouth, because I wou'd not give my
                  Eyes the Lye; and you have but too much already perceiv'd they have confess'd my
                  Flame: Nor wou'd I have you believe, that because I am the abandon'd Mistress of a
                  King, I esteem my self altogether divested of Charms. No,</hi> Aboan; <hi rend="italic">I have
                  still a Rest of Beauty enough engaging, and have learn'd to please too well, not
                  to be desirable. I can have Lovers still, but will have none but</hi> Aboan.
                  <hi rend="italic">Madam</hi> (reply'd the half-feigning Youth) <hi rend="italic">you have already, by my Eyes,
                  found, you can still conquer; and I believe 'tis in pity of me,</hi>
                            <pb n="56"/>
                            <hi rend="italic">you condescend to this kind Confession. But, Madam, Words are us'd to be so
                  small a part of our Country-Courtship, that 'tis rare one can get so happy an
                  Opportunity as to tell one's Heart; and those few Minutes we have are forc'd to be
                  snatch'd for more certain Proofs of Love, than speaking and sighing; and such I
                  languish for.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>He spoke this with such a Tone, that she hop'd it true, and cou'd not forbear
               believing it; and being wholly transported with Joy, for having subdu'd the finest of
               all the King's Subjects to her Desires, she took from her Ears two large Pearls, and
               commanded him to wear 'em in his. He wou'd have refus'd 'em, crying, <hi rend="italic">Madam, these
                  are not the Proofs of your Love that I expect; 'tis Opportunity, 'tis a Lonehour
                  only, that can make me happy.</hi> But forcing the Pearls into his<pb n="57"/>
               Hand, she whisper'd softly to him, <hi rend="italic">Oh! Do not fear a Woman's Invention, when Love
                  sets her a-thinking.</hi> And pressing his Hand, she cry'd, <hi rend="italic">This Night you
                  shall be happy. Come to the Gate of the Orange-Groves, behind the</hi> Otan;
                  <hi rend="italic">and I will be ready, about Mid-night, to receive you.</hi> 'Twas thus agreed,
               and she left him, that no notice might be taken of their speaking together.</p>

            <p>The Ladies were still dancing, and the King, laid on a Carpet, with a great deal of
               pleasure, was beholding them, especially <hi rend="italic">Imoinda;</hi> who that Day appear'd more
               lovely than ever, being enliven'd with the good Tidings <hi rend="italic">Onahal</hi> had brought
               her of the constant Passion the Prince had for her. The Prince was laid on another
               Carpet, at the other end of the Room, with his Eyes fix'd on the Object <pb n="58"/>
               of his Soul; and as she turn'd, or mov'd, so did they; and she alone gave his Eyes
               and Soul their Motions: Nor did <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> employ her Eyes to any other Use,
               than in beholding with infinite Pleasure the Joy she produc'd in those of the Prince.
               But while she was more regarding him, than the Steps she took, she chanc'd to fall;
               and so near him, as that leaping with extream force from the Carpet, he caught her in
               his Arms as she fell; and 'twas visible to the whole Presence, the Joy wherewith he
               receiv'd her: He clasp'd her close to his Bosom, and quite forgot that Reverence that
               was due to the Mistress of a King, and that Punishment that is the Reward of a
               Boldness of this nature; and had not the Presence of Mind of <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> (fonder
               of his Safety, than her<pb n="59"/> own) befriended him, in making her spring from
               his Arms, and fall into her Dance again, he had, at that Instant, met his Death; for
               the old King, jealous to the last degree, rose up in Rage, broke all the Diversion,
               and led <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> to her Apartment, and sent out Word to the Prince, to go
               immediately to the Camp; and that if he were found another Night in Court, he shou'd
               suffer the Death ordain'd for disobedient Offenders.</p>

            <p>You may imagine how welcome this News was to <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko,</hi> whose unseasonable
               Transport and Caress of <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> was blam'd by all Men that lov'd him; and
               now he perceiv'd his Fault, yet cry'd, <hi rend="italic">That for such another Moment, he wou'd be
                  content to die.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>All the <hi rend="italic">Otan</hi> was in disorder about this Accident; and <hi rend="italic">Onahal</hi>
                            <pb n="60"/> was particularly concern'd, because on the Prince's Stay depended her
               Happiness; for she cou'd no longer expect that of <hi rend="italic">Aboan.</hi> So that, e'er they
               departed, they contriv'd it so, that the Prince and he shou'd come both that Night to
               the Grove of the <hi rend="italic">Otan,</hi> which was all of Oranges and Citrons; and that there
               they shou'd wait her Orders.</p>

            <p>They parted thus, with Grief enough, till Night; leaving the King in possession of
               the lovely Maid. But nothing cou'd appease the Jealousie of the old Lover: He wou'd
               not be impos'd on, but wou'd have it, that <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> made a false Step on
               purpose to fall into <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi>'s Bosom, and that all things look'd like a
               Design on both sides, and 'twas in vain she protested her Innocence: He was old and
               obstinate, and left her more <pb n="61"/> than half assur'd that his Fear was
               true.</p>

            <p>The King going to his Apartment, sent to know where the Prince was, and if he
               intended to obey his Command. The Messenger return'd, and told him, he found the
               Prince pensive, and altogether unpreparing for the Campaign; that he lay negligently
               on the Ground, and answer'd very little. This confirm'd the Jealousie of the King,
               and he commanded that they shou'd very narrowly and privately watch his Motions; and
               that he shou'd not stir from his Apartment, but one Spy or other shou'd be employ'd
               to watch him: So that the Hour approaching, wherein he was to go to the Citron-Grove;
               and taking only <hi rend="italic">Aboan</hi> along with him, he leaves his Apartment, and was
               watch'd to the<pb n="62"/> very Gate of the <hi rend="italic">Otan;</hi> where he was seen to
               enter, and where they left him, to carry back the Tidings to the King.</p>

            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> and <hi rend="italic">Aboan</hi> were no sooner enter'd, but <hi rend="italic">Onahal</hi> led
               the Prince to the Apartment of <hi rend="italic">Imoinda;</hi> who, not knowing any thing of her
               Happiness, was laid in Bed. But <hi rend="italic">Onahal</hi> only left him in her Chamber, to make
               the best of his Opportunity, and took her dear <hi rend="italic">Aboan</hi> to her own; where he
               shew'd the heighth of Complaisance for his Prince, when, to give him an Opportunity,
               he suffer'd himself to be caress'd in Bed by <hi rend="italic">Onahal.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>The Prince softly waken'd <hi rend="italic">Imoinda,</hi> who was not a little surpriz'd with Joy
               to find him there; and yet she trembl'd with a thousand Fears. I believe, he omitted
               saying nothing to this young Maid, <pb n="63"/>that might perswade her to suffer him
               to seize his own, and take the Rights of Love; and I believe she was not long
               resisting those Arms, where she so long'd to be; and having Opportunity, Night and
               Silence, Youth, Love and Desire, he soon prevail'd; and ravish'd in a Moment, what
               his old Grand-father had been endeavouring for so many Months.</p>


           

            <p>'Tis not to be imagin'd the Satisfaction of these two young Lovers; nor the Vows she
               made him, that she remain'd a spotless Maid, till that Night; and that what she did
               with his Grand-father, had robb'd him of no part of her Virgin-Honour, the Gods, in
               Mercy and Justice, having reserv'd that for her plighted Lord, to whom of Right it
               belong'd. And 'tis impossible to express the Transports<pb n="64"/> he suffer'd,
               while he listen'd to a Discourse so charming, from her lov'd Lips; and clasp'd that
               Body in his Arms, for whom he had so long languish'd; and nothing now afflicted him,
               but his suddain Departure from her; for he told her the Necessity, and his Commands;
               but shou'd depart satisfy'd in this, That since the old King had hitherto not been
               able to deprive him of those Enjoyments which only belong'd to him, he believ'd for
               the future he wou'd be less able to injure him; so that, abating the Scandal of the
               Veil, which was no otherwise so, than that she was Wife to another: He believ'd her
               safe, even in the Arms of the King, and innocent; yet wou'd he have ventur'd at the
               Conquest of the World, and have given it all, to have had her avoided that Honour <pb n="65"/>of receiving the <hi rend="italic">Royal Veil.</hi> 'Twas thus, between a thousand
               Caresses, that both bemoan'd the hard Fate of Youth and Beauty, so liable to that
               cruel Promotion: 'Twas a Glory that cou'd well have been spar'd here, though desir'd,
               and aim'd at by all the young Females of that Kingdom.</p>

            <p>But while they were thus fondly employ'd, forgetting how Time ran on, and that the
               Dawn must conduct him far away from his only Happiness, they heard a great Noise in
               the <hi rend="italic">Otan,</hi> and unusual Voices of Men; at which the Prince, starting from the
               Arms of the frighted <hi rend="italic">Imoinda,</hi> ran to a little Battel-Ax he us'd to wear by
               his Side; and having not so much leisure, as to put on his Habit, he oppos'd himself
               against some who were already opening the Door; <pb n="66"/>which they did with so
               much Violence, that <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> was not able to defend it; but was forc'd to
               cry out with a commanding Voice, <hi rend="italic">Whoever ye are that have the Boldness to attempt
                  to approach this Apartment thus rudely, know, that I, the Prince</hi> Oroonoko,
                  <hi rend="italic">will revenge it with the certain Death of him that first enters: Therefore
                  stand back, and know, this place is sacred to Love, and me this Night; to Morrow
                  'tis the King's.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>This he spoke with a Voice so resolv'd and assur'd, that they soon retir'd from the
               Door, but cry'd, <hi rend="italic">'Tis by the King's Command we are come; and being satisfy'd by
                  thy Voice, O Prince, as much as if we had enter'd, we can report to the King the
                  Truth of all his Fears, and leave thee to provide for thy own Safety, as thou art
                  advis'd by thy Friends.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>
               <pb n="67"/> At these Words they departed, and left the Prince to take a short and
               sad Leave of his <hi rend="italic">Imoinda;</hi> who trusting in the strength of her Charms,
               believ'd she shou'd appease the Fury of a jealous King, by saying, She was surpriz'd,
               and that it was by force of Arms he got into her Apartment. All her Concern now was
               for his Life, and therefore she hasten'd him to the Camp; and with much a-do,
               prevail'd on him to go: Nor was it she alone that prevail'd, <hi rend="italic">Aboan</hi> and
                  <hi rend="italic">Onahal</hi> both pleaded, and both assur'd him of a Lye that shou'd be well
               enough contriv'd to secure <hi rend="italic">Imoinda.</hi> So that, at last, with a Heart sad as
               Death, dying Eyes, and sighing Soul, <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> departed, and took his way to
               the Camp.</p>

            <p>
               <pb n="68"/> It was not long after the King in Person came to the <hi rend="italic">Otan;</hi>
               where beholding <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> with Rage in his Eyes, he upbraided her Wickedness
               and Perfidy, and threatning her Royal Lover, she fell on her Face at his Feet,
               bedewing the Floor with her Tears, and imploring his Pardon for a Fault which she had
               not with her Will committed; as <hi rend="italic">Onahal,</hi> who was also prostrate with her,
               cou'd testifie: That, unknown to her, he had broke into her Apartment, and ravish'd
               her. She spoke this much against her Conscience; but to save her own Life, 'twas
               absolutely necessary she shou'd feign this Falsity. She knew it cou'd not injure the
               Prince, he being fled to-an-Army that wou'd stand by him, against any Injuries that
               shou'd assault him. However, <pb n="69"/>this last Thought of <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi>'s
               being ravish'd, chang'd the Measures of his Revenge; and whereas before he design'd
               to be himself her Executioner, he now resolv'd she shou'd not die. But as it is the
               greatest Crime in nature amongst 'em to touch a Woman, after having been possess'd by
               a Son, a Father, or a Brother; so now he look'd on <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> as a polluted
               thing, wholly unfit for his Embrace; nor wou'd he resign her to his Grand-son,
               because she had receiv'd the <hi rend="italic">Royal Veil.</hi> He therefore removes her from the
                  <hi rend="italic">Otan,</hi> with <hi rend="italic">Onahal;</hi> whom he put into safe Hands, with Order they
               shou'd be both sold off, as Slaves, to another Country, either <hi rend="italic">Christian,</hi> or
                  <hi rend="italic">Heathen;</hi> 'twas no matter where.</p>

            <p>
               <pb n="70"/> This cruel Sentence, worse than Death, they implor'd, might be revers'd;
               but their Prayers were vain, and it was put in Execution accordingly, and that with
               so much Secrecy, that none, either without, or within the <hi rend="italic">Otan,</hi> knew any
               thing of their Absence, or their Destiny.</p>

            <p>The old King, nevertheless, executed this with a great deal of Reluctancy; but he
               believ'd he had made a very great Conquest over himself, when he had once resolv'd,
               and had perform'd what he resolv'd. He believ'd now, that his Love had been unjust;
               and that he cou'd not expect the Gods, or <ref target="Clouds_" corresp="Clouds">Captain
                  of the Clouds</ref>
               <note xml:id="Clouds" target="Clouds_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Here Behn seems to be informed by knowledge of African religious traditions, as
                  such references to a sky deity appear there, but we do not know her source for
                  this term.</note>, (as they call the unknown Power) shou'd suffer a better
               Consequence from so ill a Cause. He now begins to hold <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> excus'd; and
                  <pb n="71"/>to say, he had Reason for what he did: And now every Body cou'd assure
               the King, how passionately <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> was belov'd by the Prince; even those
               confess'd it now, who said the contrary before his Flame was abated. So that the King
               being old, and not able to defend himself in War, and having no Sons of all his Race
               remaining alive, but only this, to maintain him on his Throne; and looking on this as
               a Man disoblig'd, first by the Rape of his Mistress, or rather, Wife; and now by
               depriving of him wholly of her, he fear'd, might make him desperate, and do some
               cruel thing, either to himself, or his old Grand-father, the Offender; he began to
               repent him extreamly of the Contempt he had, in his Rage, put on <hi rend="italic">Imoinda.</hi>
               Besides, he consider'd he ought in<pb n="72"/> Honour to have kill'd her, for this
               Offence, if it had been one: He ought to have had so much Value and Consideration for
               a Maid of her Quality, as to have nobly put her to death; and not to have sold her
               like a common Slave, the greatest Revenge, and the most disgraceful of any; and to
               which they a thousand times prefer Death, and implore it; as <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> did,
               but cou'd not obtain that Honour. Seeing therefore it was certain that
                  <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> wou'd highly resent this Affront, he thought good to make some
               Excuse for his Rashness to him; and to that End he sent a Messenger to the Camp, with
               Orders to treat with him about the Master, to gain his Pardon, and to endeavour to
               mitigate his Grief; but that by no means he shou'd tell him, she was sold, but
               secretly put to death; <pb n="73"/> for he knew he shou'd. never obtain his Pardon
               for the other.</p>

            <p>When the Messenger came, he found the Prince upon the point of Engaging with the
               Enemy; but as soon as he heard of the Arrival of the Messenger, he commanded him to
               his Tent, where he embrac'd him, and receiv'd him with Joy; which was soon abated, by
               the down-cast Looks of the Messenger, who was instantly demanded the Cause by
                  <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko,</hi> who, impatient of Delay, ask'd a thousand Questions in a
               Breath; and all concerning <hi rend="italic">Imoinda:</hi> But there needed little Return, for he
               cou'd almost answer himself of all he demanded, from his Sighs and Eyes. At last, the
               Messenger casting himself at the Prince's Feet, and kissing them, with all the
               Submission of a Man that had something to implore<pb n="74"/> which he dreaded to
               utter, he besought him to hear with Calmness what he had to deliver to him, and to
               call up all his noble and Heroick Courage, to encounter with his Words, and defend
               himself against the ungrateful things he must relate. <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> reply'd, with
               a deep Sigh, and a languishing Voice,—<hi rend="italic">I am arm'd against their worst Efforts—;
                  for I know they will tell me,</hi> Imoinda <hi rend="italic">is no more—; and after that, you
                  may spare the rest.</hi> Then, commanding him to rise, he laid himself on a
               Carpet, under a rich Pavillion, and remain'd a good while silent, and was hardly
               heard to sigh. When he was come a little to himself, the Messenger ask'd him leave to
               deliver that part of his Embassy, which the Prince had not yet devin'd: And the
               Prince cry'd, <hi rend="italic">I permit thee—</hi>Then he told him the Affliction <pb n="75"/> the
               old King was in, for the Rashness he had committed in his Cruelty to
                  <hi rend="italic">Imoinda;</hi> and how he daign'd to ask Pardon for his Offence, and to implore
               the Prince wou'd not suffer that Loss to touch his Heart too sensibly, which now all
               the Gods cou'd not restore him, but might recompence him in Glory, which he begg'd he
               wou'd pursue; and that Death, that common Revenger of all Injuries, wou'd soon even
               the Account between him, and a feeble old Man.</p>

            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> bad him return his Duty to his Lord and Master; and to assure him,
               there was no Account of Revenge to be adjusted between them; if there were, 'twas he
               was the Agressor, and that Death wou'd be just, and, <ref target="maugre_" corresp="maugre">maugre</ref>
                            <note xml:id="maugre" target="maugre_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">In spite of</note> his Age, wou'd see him righted;
               and he was contented to leave his Share of <pb n="76"/>Glory to Youths more
               fortunate, and worthy of that Favour from the Gods. That henceforth he wou'd never
               lift a Weapon, or draw a Bow; but abandon the small Remains of his Life to Sighs and
               Tears, and the continual Thoughts of what his Lord and Grand-father had thought good
               to send out of the World, with all that Youth, that Innocence, and Beauty.</p>

            <p>After having spoken this, whatever his greatest Officers, and Men of the best Rank
               could do, they cou'd not raise him from the Carpet, or perswade him to Action, and
               Resolutions of Life; but commanding all to retire, he shut himself into his Pavillion
               all that Day, while the Enemy was ready to engage; and wondring at the Delay, the
               whole Body of the chief<pb n="77"/>of the Army then address'd themselves to him, and
               to whom they had much a-do to get Admittance. They fell on their Faces at the Foot of
               his Carpet; where they lay, and besought him with earnest Prayers and Tears, to lead
               'em forth to Battel, and not let the Enemy take Advantages of them; and implor'd him
               to have regard to his Glory, and to the World, that depended on his Courage and
               Conduct. But he made no other Reply to all their Supplications but this, That he had
               now no more Business for Glory; and for the World, it was a Trifle not worth his
               Care. <hi rend="italic">Go,</hi> (continu'd he, sighing) <hi rend="italic">and divide it amongst you; and reap
                  with Joy what you so vainly prize, and leave me to my more welcome Destiny.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>They then demanded what they shou'd do, and whom he <pb n="78"/> wou'd constitute in
               his Room, that the Confusion of ambitious Youth and Power might not ruin their Order,
               and make them a Prey to the Enemy. He reply'd, He wou'd not give himself the
               Trouble—; but wish'd 'em to chuse the bravest Man amongst 'em, let his Quality or
               Birth be what it wou'd: <hi rend="italic">For, O my Friends</hi> (said he!) <hi rend="italic">it is not Titles
                  make Men brave, or good; or Birth that bestows Courage and Generosity, or makes
                  the Owner happy. Believe this, when you behold</hi> Oroonoko, <hi rend="italic">the most
                  wretched, and abandon'd by Fortune, of all the Creation of the Gods.</hi> So
               turning himself about, he wou'd make no more Reply to all they cou'd urge or
               implore.</p>

            <p>The Army beholding their Officers return unsuccessful, with sad Faces, and ominous
               Looks, that <pb n="79"/> presag'd no good Luck, suffer'd a thousand Fears to take
               Possession of their Hearts, and the Enemy to come even upon 'em, before they wou'd
               provide for their Safety, by any Defence; and though they were assur'd by some, who
               had a mind to animate 'em, that they shou'd be immediately headed by the Prince, and
               that in the mean time <hi rend="italic">Aboan</hi> had Orders to command as General; yet they were
               so dismay'd for want of that great Example of Bravery, that they cou'd make but a
               very feeble Resistance; and at last, down-right, fled before the Enemy, who pursu'd
               'em to the very Tents, killing 'em: Nor cou'd all <hi rend="italic">Aboan</hi>'s Courage, which
               that Day gain'd him immortal Glory, shame 'em into a Manly Defence of themselves. The
               Guards that were left behind, <pb n="80"/>about the Prince's Tent, seeing the
               Soldiers flee before the Enemy, and scatter themselves all over the Plain, in great
               Disorder, made such Out-cries as rouz'd the Prince from his amorous Slumber, in which
               he had remain'd bury'd for two Days, without permitting any Sustenance to approach
               him: But, in spight of all his Resolutions, he had not the Constancy of Grief to that
               Degree, as to make him insensible of the Danger of his Army; and in that Instant he
               leap'd from his Couch, and cry'd,—<hi rend="italic">Come, if we must die, let us meet Death the
                  noblest Way; and 'twill be more like</hi> Oroonoko <hi rend="italic">to encounter him at an
                  Army's Head, opposing the Torrent of a conquering Foe, than lazily, on a Couch, to
                  wait his lingering Pleasure, and die every Moment by a thousand wrecking Thought;
                  or be tamely taken by an</hi>
               <pb n="81"/>
                            <hi rend="italic">Enemy, and led a whining, Love-sick Slave, to adorn the Triumphs
                  of</hi> Jamoan, <hi rend="italic">that young Victor, who already is enter'd beyond the Limits I
                  had prescrib d him.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>While he was speaking, he suffer'd his People to dress him for the Field; and
               sallying out of his Pavillion, with more Life and Vigour in his Countenance than ever
               he shew'd, he appear'd like some Divine Power descended to save his Country from
               Destruction; and his People had purposely put him on all things that might make him
               shine with most Splendor, to strike a reverend Awe into the Beholders. He flew into
               the thickest of those that were pursuing his Men; and being animated with Despair, he
               fought as if he came on purpose to die, and did such things as will not be believ'd
               that Humane <pb n="82"/> Strength cou'd perform; and such as soon inspir'd all the
               rest with new Courage, and new Order: And now it was, that they began to fight
               indeed; and so, as if they wou'd not be out-done, even by their ador'd <hi rend="italic">Hero;</hi>
               who turning the Tide of the Victory, changing absolutely the Fate of the Day, gain'd
               an entire Conquest; and <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> having the good Fortune to single out
                  <hi rend="italic">Jamoan,</hi> he took him Prisoner with his own Hand, having wounded him almost
               to death.</p>

            <p>This <hi rend="italic">Jamoan</hi> afterwards became very dear to him, being a Man very gallant,
               and of excellent Graces, and fine Parts; so that he never put him amongst the Rank of
               Captives, as they us'd to do, without distinction, for the common Sale, or Market;
               but kept him<pb n="83"/> in his own Court, where he retain'd nothing of the Prisoner,
               but the Name, and return'd no more into his own Country, so great an Affection he
               took for <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko;</hi> and by a thousand Tales and Adventures of Love and
               Gallantry, flatter'd his Disease of Melancholy and Languishment; which I have often
               heard him say, had certainly kill'd him, but for the Conversation of this Prince and
                  <hi rend="italic">Aboan,</hi> the <hi rend="italic">French</hi> Governor he had from his Childhood, of whom I
               have spoken before, and who was a Man of admirable Wit, great Ingenuity and Learning;
               all which he had infus'd into his young Pupil. This <hi rend="italic">French-</hi>Man was banish'd
               out of his own Country, for some Heretical Notions he held; and though he was a Man
               of very little Religion, he <pb n="84"/> had admirable Morals, and a brave Soul.</p>

            <p>After the total Defeat of <hi rend="italic">Jamoan</hi>'s Army, which all fled, or were left dead
               upon the Place, they spent some time in the Camp; <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> chusing rather to
               remain a while there in his Tents, than enter into a Place, or live in a Court where
               he had so lately suffer d so great a Loss. The Officers therefore, who saw and knew
               his Cause of Discontent, invented all sorts of Diversions and Sports, to entertain
               their Prince: So that what with those Amuzements abroad, and others at home, that is,
               within their Tents, with the Perswasions, Arguments and Care of his Friends and
               Servants that he more peculiarly priz'd, he wore off in time a great part of that
                  <ref target="Shagrien_" corresp="Shagrien">Shagrien</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Shagrien" target="Shagrien_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Chagrin; that is, disappointment
                  or vexation</note>, and Torture of Despair,<pb n="85"/> which the first Efforts of
                  <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi>'s Death had given him: Insomuch as having receiv'd a thousand
               kind Embassies from the King, and Invitations to return to Court, he obey'd, though
               with no little Reluctancy; and when he did so, there was a visible Change in him, and
               for a long time he was much more melancholy than before. But Time lessens all
               Extreams, and reduces 'em to <hi rend="italic">Mediums</hi> and Unconcern; but no Motives or
               Beauties, though all endeavour'd it, cou'd engage him in any sort of Amour, though he
               had all the Invitations to it, both from his own Youth, and others Ambitions and
               Designs.</p>

            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> was no sooner return'd from this last Conquest, and receiv'd at
               Court with all the Joy <pb n="86"/> and Magnificence that cou'd be express'd to a
               young Victor, who was not only return'd triumphant, but belov'd like a Deity, when
               there arriv'd in the Port an <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Ship.</p>

            <p>
                            <ref target="Person_" corresp="Person">This Person</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Person" target="Person_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">The commander of the ship</note>
               had often before been in these Countries, and was very well known to
                  <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko,</hi> with whom he had traffick'd for Slaves, and had us'd to do the
               same with his Predecessors.</p>

            <p>This Commander was a Man of a finer sort of Address, and Conversation, better bred,
               and more engaging, than most of that sort of Men are; so that he seem'd rather never
               to have been bred out of a Court, than almost all his Life at Sea. This Captain
               therefore was always better receiv'd at Court, than most of the Traders to those
               Countries were; and <pb n="87"/>especially by <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko,</hi> who was more
               civiliz'd, according to the <hi rend="italic">European</hi> Mode, than any other had been, and took
               more Delight in the <hi rend="italic">White</hi> Nations; and, above all, Men of Parts and Wit. To
               this Captain he sold abundance of his Slaves; and for the Favour and Esteem he had
               for him, made him many Presents, and oblig'd him to stay at Court as long as possibly
               he cou'd. Which the Captain seem'd to take as a very great Honour done him,
               entertaining the Prince every Day with Globes and Maps, and Mathematical Discourses
               and Instruments; eating, drinking, hunting and living with him with so much
               Familiarity, that it was not to be doubted, but he had gain'd very greatly upon the
               Heart of this gallant young Man. And the Captain,<pb n="88"/>in Return of all these
               mighty Favours, besought the Prince to honour his Vessel with his Presence, some Day
               or other, to Dinner, before he shou'd set Sail; which he condescended to accept, and
               appointed his Day. The Captain, on his part, fail'd not to have all things in a
               Readiness, in the most magnificent Order he cou'd possibly: And the Day being come,
               the Captain, in his Boat, richly adorn'd with Carpets and Velvet-Cushions, row'd to
               the Shoar to receive the Prince; with another Long-Boat, where was plac'd all his
               Musick and Trumpets, with which <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> was extreamly delighted; who met
               him on the Shoar, attended by his <hi rend="italic">French</hi> Governor, <hi rend="italic">Jamoan, Aboan,</hi>
               and about an hundred of the noblest of the Youths of the<pb n="89"/>Court: And after
               they had first carry'd the Prince on Board, the Boats fetch'd the rest off; where
               they found a very splendid Treat, with all sorts of fine Wines; and were as well
               entertain'd, as 'twas possible in such a place to be.</p>

            <p>The Prince having drunk hard of Punch, and several Sorts of Wine, as did all the rest
               (for great Care was taken, they shou'd want nothing of that part of the
               Entertainment) was very merry, and in great Admiration of the Ship, for he had never
               been in one before; so that he was curious of beholding every place, where he
               decently might descend. The rest, no less curious, who were not quite overcome with
               Drinking, rambl'd at their pleasure <hi rend="italic">Fore</hi> and <hi rend="italic">Aft,</hi> as their Fancies
               guided 'em: So that the Captain, who had<pb n="90"/> well laid his Design before,
               gave the Word, and seiz'd on all his Guests; they clapping great Irons suddenly on
               the Prince, when he was leap'd down in the Hold, to view that part of the Vessel; and
               locking him fast down, secur'd him. The same Treachery was us'd to all the rest; and
               all in one Instant, in several places of the Ship, were lash'd fast in Irons, and
               betray'd to Slavery. That great Design over, they set all Hands to work to hoise
               Sail; and with as treacherous and fair a Wind, they made from the Shoar with this
               innocent and glorious Prize, who thought of nothing less than such an
               Entertainment.</p>

            <p>Some have commended this Act, as brave, in the Captain; but I will spare my Sence of
               it, and leave it to my Reader, to judge as he pleases.</p>

            <p>
               <pb n="91"/> It may be easily guess'd, in what manner the Prince resented this
               Indignity, who may be best resembl'd to a Lion taken in a Toil; so he rag'd, so he
               struggl'd for Liberty, but all in vain; and they had so wisely manag'd his Fetters,
               that he cou'd not use a Hand in his Defence, to quit himself of a Life that wou'd by
               no Means endure Slavery; nor cou'd he move from the Place, where he was ty'd, to any
               solid part of the Ship, against which he might have beat his Head, and have finish'd
               his Disgrace that way: So that being deprived of all other means, he resolved to
               perish for want of Food: And pleased at last with that Thought, and toil'd and tired
               by Rage and Indignation, he laid himself down, and sullenly resolved upon dying,<pb n="92"/> and refused all things that were brought him.</p>

            <p>This did not a little vex the Captain, and the more so, because, he found almost all
               of 'em of the same Humour; so that the loss of so many brave Slaves, so tall and
               goodly to behold, wou'd have been very considerable: He therefore order'd one to go
               from him (for he wou'd not be seen himself) to <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko,</hi> and to assure him
               he was afflicted for having rashly done so unhospitable a Deed, and which cou'd not
               be now remedied, since they were far from shore; but since he resented it in so high
               a nature, he assur'd him he wou'd revoke his Resolution, and set both him and his
               Friends a-shore on the next Land they shou'd touch at; and of this the Messenger gave
                  <pb n="93"/> him his Oath, provided he wou'd resolve to live: And
                  <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko,</hi> whose Honour was such as he never had violated a Word in his
               Life himself, much less a solemn Asseveration; believ'd in an instant what this Man
               said, but reply'd, He expected for a Confirmation of this, to have his shameful
               Fetters dismiss'd. This Demand was carried to the <hi rend="italic">Captain,</hi> who return'd him
               answer, That the Offence had been so great which he had put upon the Prince, that he
               durst not trust him with Liberty while he remained in the Ship, for fear lest by a
               Valour natural to him, and a Revenge that would animate that Valour, he might commit
               some Outrage fatal to himself and the <hi rend="italic">King</hi> his Master, to whom his Vessel
               did belong. To this <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> replied,<pb n="94"/> he would engage his Honour
               to behave himself in all friendly Order and Manner, and obey the Command of the
                  <hi rend="italic">Captain,</hi> as he was Lord of the <hi rend="italic">King</hi>'s Vessel, and General of
               those Men under his Command.</p>

            <p>This was deliver'd to the still doubting <hi rend="italic">Captain,</hi> who could not resolve to
               trust a <hi rend="italic">Heathen</hi> he said, upon his <ref target="Parole_" corresp="Parole">Parole</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Parole" target="Parole_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Pledge, oath</note>, a Man that had no sence or
               notion of the God that he Worshipp'd. <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> then replied, He was very
               sorry to hear that the <hi rend="italic">Captain</hi> pretended to the Knowledge and Worship of any
                  <hi rend="italic">Gods,</hi> who had taught him no better Principles, than not to Credit as he
               would be Credited: but they told him the Difference of their Faith occasion'd that
               Distrust: For the <hi rend="italic">Captain</hi> had protested to him upon the Word of a
                  <hi rend="italic">Christian,</hi>
                            <pb n="95"/> and sworn in the Name of a Great <hi rend="italic">GOD;</hi>
               which if he shou'd violate, he would expect eternal Torment in the World to come.
                  <hi rend="italic">Is that all the Obligation he has to be Just to his Oath,</hi> replied
                  <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko? Let him know I Swear by my Honour, which to violate, wou'd not only
                  render me contemptible and despised by all brave and honest Men, and so give my
                  self perpetual pain, but it wou'd be eternally offending and diseasing all
                  Mankind, harming, betraying, circumventing and outraging all Men; but Punishments
                  hereafter are suffer'd by ones self; and the World takes no cognizances whether
                  this</hi> God <hi rend="italic">have revenged em, or not, tis done so secretly, and deferr'd so
                  long: While the Man of no Honour, suffers every moment the scorn and contempt of
                  the honester World, and dies every day ignominiously in his Fame, which</hi>
                            <pb n="96"/>
               <hi rend="italic">is more valuable than Life: I speak not this to move Belief, but to shew you how
                  you mistake, when you imagine, That he who will violate his Honour, will keep his
                  Word with his</hi> Gods. So turning from him with a disdainful smile, he refused
               to answer him, when he urg'd him to know what Answer he shou'd carry back to his
                  <hi rend="italic">Captain;</hi> so that he departed without saying any more.</p>

            <p>The <hi rend="italic">Captain</hi> pondering and consulting what to do, it was concluded that
               nothing but <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi>'s Liberty wou'd encourage any of the rest to eat,
               except the <hi rend="italic">French-</hi>man, whom the <hi rend="italic">Captain</hi> cou'd not pretend to keep
               Prisoner, but only told him he was secured because he might act something in favour
               of the Prince, but that he shou'd be freed as soon <pb n="97"/> as they came to Land.
               So that they concluded it wholly necessary to free the Prince from his Irons, that he
               might show himself to the rest; that they might have an Eye upon him, and that they
               cou'd not fear a single Man.</p>

            <p>This being resolv'd, to make the Obligation the greater, the Captain himself went to
                  <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko;</hi> where, after many Complements, and Assurances of what he had
               already promis'd, he receiving from the Prince his <hi rend="italic">Parole,</hi> and his Hand, for
               his good Behaviour, dismiss'd his Irons, and brought him to his own Cabin; where,
               after having treated and repos'd him a while, for he had neither eat nor slept in
               four Days before, he besought him to visit those obstinate People in Chains, who
               refus'd all manner <pb n="98"/> of Sustenance; and intreated him to oblige 'em to
               eat, and assure 'em of their Liberty the first Opportunity.</p>

            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko,</hi> who was too generous, not to give Credit to his Words, shew'd
               himself to his People, who were transported with Excess of Joy at the sight of their
               Darling Prince; falling at his Feet, and kissing and embracing 'em; believing, as
               some Divine Oracle, all he assur'd 'em. But he besought 'em to bear their Chains with
               that Bravery that became those whom he had seen act so nobly in Arms; and that they
               cou'd not give him greater Proofs of their Love and Friendship, since 'twas all the
               Security the Captain (his Friend) cou'd have, against the Revenge, he said, they
               might possibly justly take, for the <pb n="99"/> Injuries sustain'd by him. And they
               all, with one Accord, assur'd him, they cou'd not suffer enough, when it was for his
               Repose and Safety.</p>

            <p>After this they no longer refus'd to eat, but took what was brought 'em, and were
               pleas'd with their Captivity, since by it they hop'd to redeem the Prince, who, all
               the rest of the Voyage, was treated with all the Respect due to his Birth, though
               nothing cou'd divert his Melancholy; and he wou'd often sigh for <hi rend="italic">Imoinda,</hi>
               and think this a Punishment due to his Misfortune, in having left that noble Maid
               behind him, that fatal Night, in the <hi rend="italic">Otan,</hi> when he fled to the Camp.</p>

            <p>Possess'd with a thousand Thoughts of past Joys with this fair young Person, and a
               thousand <pb n="100"/> Griefs for her eternal Loss, he endur'd a tedious Voyage, and
               at last arriv'd at the Mouth of the River of <hi rend="italic">Surinam,</hi> a Colony belonging to
               the King of <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> and where they were to deliver some part of their
               Slaves. There the Merchants and Gentlemen of the Country going on Board, to demand
               those Lots of Slaves they had already agreed on; and, amongst those, the Over-seers
               of those Plantations where I then chanc'd to be, the Captain, who had given the Word,
               order'd his Men to bring up those noble Slaves in Fetters, whom I have spoken of; and
               having put 'em, some in one, and some in other Lots, with Women and Children (which
               they call <ref target="Pickaninies_" corresp="Pickaninies">Pickaninies</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Pickaninies" target="Pickaninies_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Dark-skinned
                  children, usually of African descent. The term is likely a pidgin form of the
                  Portuguese word pequenino.</note>,) they sold 'em off, as Slaves, to several
               Merchants and Gentlemen; not <pb n="101"/>putting any two in one Lot, because they
               wou'd separate 'em far from each other; not daring to trust 'em together, lest Rage
               and Courage shou'd put 'em upon contriving some great Action, to the Ruin of the
               Colony.</p>

            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> was first seiz'd on, and sold to our Over-seer, who had the first
               Lot, with seventeen more of all sorts and sizes; but not one of Quality with him.
               When he saw this, he found what they meant; for, as I said, he understood
                  <hi rend="italic">English</hi> pretty well; and being wholly unarm'd and defenceless, so as it
               was in vain to make any Resistance, he only beheld the Captain with a Look all fierce
               and disdainful, upbraiding him with Eyes, that forc'd Blushes on his guilty Cheeks,
               he only cry'd, in passing over the Side of the Ship, <pb n="102"/>
                            <hi rend="italic">Farewel, Sir:
                  'Tis worth my Suffering, to gain so true a Knowledge both of you, and of your Gods
                  by whom you swear.</hi> And desiring those that held him to forbear their pains,
               and telling 'em he wou'd make no Resistance, he cry'd, <hi rend="italic">Come, my Fellow-Slaves;
                  let as descend, and see if we can meet with more Honour and Honesty in the next
                  World we shall touch upon.</hi> So he nimbly leap'd into the Boat, and shewing no
               more Concern, suffer'd himself to be row'd up the River, with his seventeen
               Companions.</p>

            <p>The Gentleman that bought him was a young <hi rend="italic">Cornish</hi> Gentleman, whose Name was
                  <hi rend="italic">Trefry;</hi> a Man of great Wit, and fine Learning, and was carry'd into those
               Parts by the <ref target="Lord_" corresp="Lord">Lord—Governor</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Lord" target="Lord_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Lord Willoughby was
                  the governor of Surinam and the owner of the Parham plantation. Trefy was there to
                  oversee the plantation in Willoughby's absence.</note>, to manage all his Affairs.
               He reflecting on the last Words of <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> to the <pb n="103"/>Captain, and
               beholding the Richness of his <ref target="Oroonoko_" corresp="Oroonoko">Vest</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Oroonoko" target="Oroonoko_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">clothing</note>, no sooner came into the Boat, but he fix'd his Eyes on him; and
               finding something so extraordinary in his Face, his Shape and Mien, a Greatness of
               Look, and Haughtiness in his Air, and finding he spoke <hi rend="italic">English,</hi> had a great
               mind to be enquiring into his Quality and Fortune; which, though <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi>
               endeavour'd to hide, by only confessing he was above the Rank of common Slaves,
                  <hi rend="italic">Trefry</hi> soon found he was yet something greater than he confess'd; and
               from that Moment began to conceive so vast an Esteem for him, that he ever after
               lov'd him as his dearest Brother, and shew'd him all the Civilities due to so great a
               Man.</p>

            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Trefry</hi> was a very good Mathematician, and a Linguist; cou'd<pb n="104"/>
               speak <hi rend="italic">French</hi> and <hi rend="italic">Spanish;</hi> and in the three Days they remain'd in
               the Boat (for so long were they going from the Ship, to the Plantation) he
               entertain'd <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> so agreeably with his Art and Discourse, that he was no
               less pleas'd with <hi rend="italic">Trefry,</hi> than he was with the Prince; and he thought
               himself, at least, fortunate in this, that since he was a Slave, as long as he wou'd
               suffer himself to remain so, he had a Man of so excellent Wit and Parts for a Master:
               So that before they had finish'd their Voyage up the River, he made no scruple of
               declaring to <hi rend="italic">Trefry</hi> all his Fortunes, and most part of what I have here
               related, and put himself wholly into the Hands of his new Friend, whom he found
               resenting all the Injuries were done him, and was charm'd with all the Greatnesses of
               his Actions; <pb n="105"/>which were recited with that Modesty, and delicate Sence,
               as wholly vanquish'd him, and subdu'd him to his Interest. And he promis'd him on his
               Word and Honour, he wou'd find the Means to re-conduct him to his own Country again:
               assuring him, he had a perfect Abhorrence of so dishonourable an Action; and that he
               wou'd sooner have dy'd, than have been the Author of such a Perfidy. He found the
               Prince was very much concern'd to know what became of his Friends, and how they took
               their Slavery; and <hi rend="italic">Trefry</hi> promis'd to take care about the enquiring after
               their Condition, and that he shou'd have an Account of 'em.</p>

            <p>Though, as <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> afterwards said, he had little Reason to credit the
               Words of a <ref target="Backearary_" corresp="Backearary">Backearary</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Backearary" target="Backearary_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">An altered from of
                  bakra, buckra, or buccra, a word used in Surinam for master.</note>, yet he knew
               not why; but he saw a kind<pb n="106"/> of Sincerity, and awful Truth in the Face of
                  <hi rend="italic">Trefry;</hi> he saw an Honesty in his Eyes, and he found him wise and witty
               enough to understand Honour; for it was one of his Maxims, <hi rend="italic">A Man of Wit cou'd not
                  be a Knave or Villain.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>In their passage up the <ref target="River_" corresp="River">River</ref>
                            <note xml:id="River" target="River_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">The
                  Suriname River</note>, they put in at several Houses for Refreshment; and ever
               when they landed, numbers of People wou'd flock to behold this Man; not but their
               Eyes were daily entertain'd with the sight of Slaves, but the Fame of
                  <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi> was gone before him, and all People were in Admiration of his
               Beauty. Besides, he had a rich Habit on, in which he was taken, so different from the
               rest, and which the Captain cou'd not strip him of, because he was forc'd to surprize
               his Person in the Minute he sold him. When he found his<pb n="107"/> Habit made him
               liable, as he thought, to be gaz'd at the more, he begg'd <hi rend="italic">Trefry</hi> to give him
               something more befitting a Slave; which he did, and took off his Robes. Nevertheless,
               he shone through all; and his <ref target="Osenbrigs_" corresp="Osenbrigs">Osenbrigs</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Osenbrigs" target="Osenbrigs_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">A
                  kind of coarse linen used for hard-wearing clothing that was produced in
                  Osnabruck, Germany. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> (a sort of brown
                  <hi rend="italic">Holland</hi> Suit he had on) cou'd not conceal the Graces of his Looks and
               Mien; and he had no less Admirers, than when he had his dazeling Habit on: The Royal
               Youth appear'd in spight of the Slave, and People cou'd not help treating him after a
               different manner, without designing it: As soon as they approach'd him, they
               venerated and esteem'd him; his Eyes insensibly commanded Respect, and his Behaviour
               insinuated it into every Soul. So that there was nothing talk'd of but this young and
               gallant Slave, even by those who yet knew not that he was a Prince.</p>

            <p>
               <pb n="108"/> I ought to tell you, that the <hi rend="italic">Christians</hi> never buy any Slaves
               but they give 'em some Name of their own, their native ones being likely very
               barbarous, and hard to pronounce; so that Mr. <hi rend="italic">Trefry</hi> gave <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko</hi>
               that of <ref target="Caesar_" corresp="Caesar">Caesar</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Caesar" target="Caesar_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Slaves were often
                  given the names of powerful Romans, which was often a way of mocking their
                  profound lack of power. Here, too, as Janet Todd notes, Behn sometimes referred to
                  James II as Caesar, so this forms another link between Oroonoko and the Stuart
                  monarchy.</note>; which Name will live in that Country as long as that (scarce
               more) glorious one of the great <hi rend="italic">Roman;</hi> for 'tis most evident, he wanted no
               part of the Personal Courage of that <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> and acted things as memorable,
               had they been done in some part of the World replenish'd with People, and Historians,
               that might have given him his due. But his Misfortune was, to fall in an obscure
               World, that afforded only a Female Pen to celebrate his Fame; though I doubt not but
               it had liv'd from others Endeavours, if the <hi rend="italic">Dutch,</hi> who, immediately after
               his <pb n="109"/>Time, took that <ref target="Country_" corresp="Country">Country</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Country" target="Country_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Surinam was turned over to the Dutch in the Treaty of Breda in 1667, just after
                  the action of this story takes place.</note>, had not kill'd, banish'd and
               dispers'd all those that were capable of giving the World this great Man's Life, much
               better than I have done. And Mr. <hi rend="italic">Trefry,</hi> who design'd it, dy'd before he
               began it; and bemoan'd himself for not having undertook it in time.</p>

            <p>For the future therefore, I must call <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko, Caesar,</hi> since by that Name
               only he was known in our Western World, and by that Name he was receiv'd on Shoar at
                  <ref target="Parham_" corresp="Parham">Parham-House</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Parham" target="Parham_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">The main house on
                  the Parham plantation.</note>, where he was destin'd a Slave. But if the King
               himself (God bless him) had come a-shore, there cou'd not have been greater
               Expectations by all the whole Plantation, and those neighbouring ones, than was on
               ours at that time; and he was receiv'd more like a Governor, than <pb n="110"/> a
               Slave. Notwithstanding, as the Custom was, they assign'd him his Portion of Land, his
               House, and his Business, up in the Plantation. But as it was more for Form, than any
               Design, to put him to his Task, he endur'd no more of the Slave but the Name, and
               remain'd some Days in the House, receiving all Visits that were made him, without
               stirring towards that part of the Plantation where the <hi rend="italic">Negroes</hi> were.</p>

            <p>At last, he wou'd needs go view his Land, his House, and the Business assign'd him.
               But he no sooner came to the Houses of the Slaves, which are like a little Town by it
               self, the <hi rend="italic">Negroes</hi> all having left Work, but they all came forth to behold
               him, and found he was that Prince who had, at several times, sold most of 'em to
               these <pb n="111"/> Parts; and, from a Veneration they pay to great Men, especially
               if they know 'em, and from the Surprize and Awe they had at the sight of him, they
               all cast themselves at his Feet, crying out, in their Language, <hi rend="italic">Live, O King!
                  Long live, O King!</hi> And kissing his Feet, paid him even Divine Homage.</p>

            <p>Several <hi rend="italic">English</hi> Gentlemen were with him; and what Mr. <hi rend="italic">Trefry</hi> had
               told 'em, was here confirm'd; of which he himself before had no other Witness than
                  <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> himself: But he was infinitely glad to find his Grandure confirm'd
               by the Adoration of all the Slaves.</p>

            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> troubl'd with their Over-Joy, and Over-Ceremony, besought 'em to
               rise, and to receive him as their Fellow-Slave; assuring them, he was no better. At
               which <pb n="112"/> they set up with one Accord a most terrible and hidious Mourning
               and condoling, which he and the <hi rend="italic">English</hi> had much a-do to appease; but at
               last they prevail'd with 'em, and they prepar'd all their barbarous Musick, and every
               one kill'd and dress'd something of his own Stock (for every Family has their Land
               apart, on which, at their leisuretimes, they breed all eatable things;) and clubbing
               it together, made a most magnificent Supper, inviting their <ref target="Grandee_" corresp="Grandee">Grandee</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Grandee" target="Grandee_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">A Spanish or Portugese nobleman of the highest
                  rank. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> Captain, their <hi rend="italic">Prince,</hi> to
               honour it with his Presence; which he did, and several <hi rend="italic">English</hi> with him;
               where they all waited on him, some playing, others dancing before him all the time,
               according to the Manners of their several Nations; and with unwearied Industry,
               endeavouring to please and delight him.</p>

            <p>
               <pb n="129"/>
               <ref target="Eye-Witnesses_" corresp="Eye-Witnesses"/>
                            <note xml:id="Eye-Witnesses" target="Eye-Witnesses_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">In the first edition, there is a page number skip
                  from page 112 to page 129. One possible explanation for this as that a sheet,
                  which would have had exactly sixteen pages in the original octavo format of this
                  book, was removed for corrections. When he returned the sheet with the corrected
                  type, the printed continued with the original pagination of the preceding sheet,
                  perhaps forgetting that sixteen page numbers would then be missing. No text is
                  missing; it's simply an error in pagination.</note> While they sat at Meat Mr.
                  <hi rend="italic">Trefry</hi> told <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> that most of these young <hi rend="italic">Slaves</hi>
               were undon in Love, with a fine she <hi rend="italic">Slave,</hi> whom they had had about Six
               Months on their Land; the <hi rend="italic">Prince,</hi> who never heard the Name of <hi rend="italic">Love</hi>
               without a Sigh, nor any mention of it without the Curiosity of examining further into
               that tale, which of all Discourses was most agreeable to him, asked, how they came to
               be so Unhappy, as to be all Undon for one fair <hi rend="italic">Slave? Trefry,</hi> who was
               naturally Amorous, and lov'd to talk of Love as well as any body, proceeded to tell
               him, they had the most charming Black that ever was beheld on their
                  <hi rend="italic">Plantation,</hi> about Fifteen or Sixteen Years old, as he guest; that, for
               his part, he had done nothing but Sigh for her <pb n="130"/>ever since she came; and
               that all the white Beautys he had seen, never charm'd him so absolutely as this fine
               Creature had done; and that no Man, of any Nation, ever beheld her, that did not fall
               in Love with her; and that she had all the <hi rend="italic">Slaves</hi> perpetually at her Feet;
               and the whole Country resounded with the Fame of <hi rend="italic">Clemene,</hi> for so, said he,
               we have Christ'ned her: But she denys us all with such a noble Disdain, that 'tis a
               Miracle to see, that she, who can give such eternal Desires, shou'd herself be all
               Ice, and all Unconcern. She is adorn'd with the most Graceful Modesty that ever
               beautifyed Youth; the softest Sigher—that, if she were capable of Love, one would
               swear she languish'd for some absent happy Man; and<pb n="131"/> so retir'd, as if
               she fear'd a Rape even from the God of Day; or that the Breezes would steal Kisses
               from her delicate Mouth. Her Task of Work some sighing Lover every day makes it his
               Petition to perform for her, which she excepts blushing, and with reluctancy, for
               fear he will ask her a Look for a Recompence, which he dares not presume to hope; so
               great an Awe she strikes into the Hearts of her Admirers. <hi rend="italic">I do not wonder,</hi>
               replied the Prince, <hi rend="italic">that</hi> Clemene <hi rend="italic">shou'd refuse Slaves, being as you say
                  so Beautiful, but wonder how she escapes those who can entertain her as you can
                  do; or why, being your Slave, you do not oblige her to yield. I confess,</hi> said
                  <hi rend="italic">Trefry, when I have, against her will, entertain'd her with Love so long, as
                  to be transported</hi>
                            <pb n="132"/>
               <hi rend="italic">with my Passion; even above Decency, I have been ready to make use of those
                  advantages of Strength and Force Nature has given me. But oh! she disarms me, with
                  that Modesty and Weeping so tender and so moving, that I retire, and thank my
                  Stars she overcame me.</hi> The Company laught at his Civility to a
                  <hi rend="italic">Slave,</hi> and <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> only applauded the nobleness of his Passion
               and Nature; since that Slave might be Noble, or, what was better, have true Notions
               of Honour and Vertue in her. Thus past they this Night, after having received, from
               the <hi rend="italic">Slaves,</hi> all imaginable Respect and Obedience.</p>

            <p>The next Day <hi rend="italic">Trefry</hi> ask'd <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> to walk, when the heat was
               allay'd, and designedly carried him by the Cottage of the <hi rend="italic">fair Slave;</hi> and
                  <pb n="133"/>told him, she whom he spoke of last Night liv'd there retir'd.
                  <hi rend="italic">But,</hi> says he, <hi rend="italic">I would not wish you to approach, for, I am sure, you
                  will be in Love as soon as you behold her. Caesar</hi> assur'd him, he was proof
               against all the Charms of that Sex; and that if he imagin'd his Heart cou'd be so
               perfidious to Love again, after <hi rend="italic">Imoinda,</hi> he believ'd he shou'd tear it from
               his Bosom: They had no sooner spoke, but a little shock Dog, that <hi rend="italic">Clemene</hi>
               had presented her, which she took great Delight in, ran out; and she, not knowing any
               body was there, ran to get it in again, and bolted out on those who were just
               Speaking of her: When seeing them, she wou'd have run in again; but <hi rend="italic">Trefry</hi>
               caught her by the Hand, and cry'd, Clemene, <hi rend="italic">however you</hi>
                            <pb n="134"/>
               <hi rend="italic">fly a Lover, you ought to pay some Respect to this Stranger:</hi> (pointing to
                  <hi rend="italic">Caesar)</hi> But she, as if she had resolv'd never to raise her Eyes to the
               Face of a Man again, bent 'em the more to the Earth, when he spoke, and gave the
                  <hi rend="italic">Prince</hi> the Leasure to look the more at her. There needed no long Gazing,
               or Consideration, to examin who this fair Creature was; he soon saw <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi>
               all over her; in a Minute he saw her Face, her Shape, her Air, her Modesty, and all
               that call'd forth his Soul with Joy at his Eyes, and left his Body destitute of
               almost Life; it stood without Motion, and, for a Minute, knew not that it had a
               Being; and, I believe, he had never come to himself, so opprest he was with over-Joy,
               if he had not met <pb n="135"/> with this Allay, that he perceiv'd <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi>
               fall dead in the Hands of <hi rend="italic">Trefry:</hi> this awaken'd him, and he ran to her aid,
               and caught her in his Arms, where, by degrees, she came to herself; and 'tis needless
               to tell with what transports, what extasies of Joy, they both a while beheld each
               other, without Speaking; then Snatcht each other to their Arms; then Gaze again, as
               if they still doubted whether they possess'd the Blessing: They Graspt, but when they
               recovered their Speech, 'tis not to be imagin'd, what tender things they exprest to
               each other; wondering what strange Fate had brought 'em again together. They soon
               inform'd each other of their Fortunes, and equally bewail'd their Fate; but, at the
                  same<pb n="136"/> time, they mutually protested, that even Fetters and Slavery
               were Soft and Easy; and wou'd be supported with Joy and Pleasure, while they cou'd be
               so happy to possess each other, and to be able to make good their Vows.
                  <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> swore he disdain'd the Empire of the World, while he cou'd behold
               his <hi rend="italic">Imoinda;</hi> and she despis'd Grandure and Pomp, those Vanities of her Sex,
               when she cou'd Gaze on <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko.</hi> He ador'd the very Cottage where she
               resided, and said, That little Inch of the World wou'd give him more Happiness than
               all the Universe cou'd do; and she vow'd, It was a Pallace, while adorn'd with the
               Presence of <hi rend="italic">Oroonoko.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Trefry</hi> was infinitely pleas'd with this <ref target="Novel_" corresp="Novel">Novel</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Novel" target="Novel_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">To Behn and her readers, the word "novel" would
                  have been associated with short romantic stories set among the aristocracy; the
                  story of Oroonoko and Imoinda that Trefry has just heard fits that definition.
                  "Novel" only gained its modern sense decades later.</note>
                            <hi rend="italic">Clemene</hi>
                            <pb n="137"/> was the Fair Mistress of whom <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> had before spoke; and was
               not a little satisfied, that Heaven was so kind to the <hi rend="italic">Prince,</hi> as to sweeten
               his Misfortunes by so lucky an Accident; and leaving the Lovers to themselves, was
               impatient to come down to <hi rend="italic">Parham House,</hi> (which was on the same
                  <hi rend="italic">Plantation)</hi> to give me an Account of what had hapned. I was as impatient
               to make these Lovers a Visit, having already made a Friendship with <hi rend="italic">Caesar;</hi>
               and from his own Mouth learn'd what I have related, which was confirmed by his
               French-man, who was set on Shore to seek his Fortunes; and of whom they cou'd not
               make a Slave, because a Christian; and he came daily to <hi rend="italic">Parham Hill</hi> to see
               and pay his Respects<pb n="138"/> to his Purple <hi rend="italic">Prince:</hi> So that concerning
               and intresting my self, in all that related to <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> whom I had assur'd of
               Liberty, as soon as the Governor arriv'd, I hasted presently to the Place where the
               Lovers were, and was infinitely glad to find this Beautiful young <hi rend="italic">Slave</hi> (who
               had already gain'd all our Esteems, for her Modesty and her extraordinary Prettyness)
               to be the same I had heard <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> speak so much off. One may imagine then,
               we paid her a treble Respect; and though from her being carv'd in fine Flowers and
               Birds all over her Body, we took her to be of Quality before, yet, when we knew
                  <hi rend="italic">Clemene</hi> was <hi rend="italic">Imoinda,</hi> we cou'd not enough admire her.</p>

            <p>I had forgot to tell you, that <pb n="139"/> those who are Nobly born of that
               Country, are so delicately <ref target="Cut_" corresp="Cut">Cut and Rac'd</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Cut" target="Cut_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">To
                  cut or slash (a shoe, item of clothing) for decorative purposes. Source: Oxford
                  English Dictionary, “race”)</note> all over the fore-part of the Trunk of their
               Bodies, that it looks as if it were <ref target="Japan_" corresp="Japan">Japan'd</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Japan" target="Japan_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Lacquered, or covered with a glossy material; in
                  this period, highly-lacquered glossy black surfaces were associated with Japan,
                  which exported such goods to Europe.</note>; the Works being raised like high
               Poynt round the Edges of the Flowers: Some are only Carv'd with a little Flower, or
               Bird, at the Sides of the Temples, as was <hi rend="italic">Caesar;</hi> and those who are so
               Carv'd over the Body, resemble our Ancient <ref target="Picts_" corresp="Picts">Picts,</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Picts" target="Picts_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">The Picts were an ancient tribe in the northern
                  part of Britain who were known to paint and tattoo their bodies. The engravings of
                  Picts in Thomas Hariot’s A Brief and True Report of the New Found Land of Virginia
                  (1588) are accompanied by the comment that "the markings of the Picts were similar
                  to those of the Native Americans in Virginia.” Source: Wikipedia</note> that are
               figur'd in the Chronicles, but these Carvings are more delicate.</p>

            <p>From that happy Day <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> took <hi rend="italic">Clemene</hi> for his Wife, to the
               general Joy of all People; and there was as much Magnificence as the Country wou'd
               afford at the Celebration of this Wedding: and in a very short time after she <pb n="140"/>conceiv'd with Child; which made <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> even adore her, knowing
               he was the last of his Great Race. This new Accident made him more Impatient of
               Liberty, and he was every Day treating with <hi rend="italic">Trefry</hi> for his and
                  <hi rend="italic">Clemene's</hi> Liberty; and offer'd either Gold, or a vast quantity of Slaves,
               which shou'd be paid before they let him go, provided he cou'd have any Security that
               he shou'd go when his Ransom was paid: They fed him from Day to Day with Promises,
               and delay'd him, till the Lord Governor shou'd come; so that he began to suspect them
               of falshood, and that they wou'd delay him till the time of his Wives delivery, and
               make a Slave of that too, For all the Breed is<pb n="141"/> theirs to whom the
               Parents belong: This Thought made him very uneasy, and his Sullenness gave them some
               Jealousies of him; so that I was oblig'd, by some Persons, who fear'd a Mutiny (which
               is very Fatal sometimes in those Colonies, that abound so with Slaves, that they
               exceed the Whites in vast Numbers) to discourse with <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> and to give him
               all the Satisfaction I possibly cou'd; they knew he and <hi rend="italic">Clemene</hi> were scarce
               an Hour in a Day from my Lodgings; that they eat with me, and that I oblig'd 'em in
               all things I was capable of: I entertain'd him with the Lives of the Romans, and
               great Men, which charm'd him to my Company; and her, with teaching her all the pretty
               Works that I was Mistress <pb n="142"/>of; and telling her Stories of Nuns, and
               endeavoring to bring her to the knowledge of the true God. But of all Discourses
                  <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> lik'd that the worst, and wou'd never be reconcil'd to our Notions
               of the Trinity, of which he ever made a Jest; it was a Riddle, he said, wou'd turn
               his Brain to conceive, and one cou'd not make him understand what Faith was. However,
               these Conversations fail'd not altogether so well to divert him, that he lik'd the
               Company of us Women much above the Men; for he cou'd not Drink; and he is but an ill
               Companion in that Country that cannot: So that obliging him to love us very well, we
               had all the Liberty of Speech with him, especially my self, whom he call'd <pb n="143"/> his <hi rend="italic">Great Mistress;</hi> and indeed my Word wou'd go a great way
               with him. For these Reasons, I had Opportunity to take notice to him, that he was not
               well pleasd of late, as he us'd to be; was more retir'd and thoughtful; and told him,
               I took it Ill he shou'd Suspect we wou'd break our Words with him, and not permit
               both him and <hi rend="italic">Clemene</hi> to return to his own Kingdom, which was not so long a
               way, but when he was once on his Voyage he wou'd quickly arrive there. He made me
               some Answers that shew'd a doubt in him, which made me ask him, what advantage it
               wou'd be to doubt? it would but give us a Fear of him, and possibly compel us to
               treat him so as I shou'd be<pb n="144"/> very loath to behold: that is, it might
               occasion his Confinement. Perhaps this was not so Luckily spoke of me, for I
               perceiv'd he resented that Word, which I strove to Soften again in vain: However, he
               assur'd me, that whatsoever Resolutions he shou'd take, he wou'd Act nothing upon the
               White-People; and as for my self, and those upon that <hi rend="italic">Plantation</hi> where he
               was, he wou'd sooner forfeit his eternal Liberty, and Life it self, than lift his
               Hand against his greatest Enemy on that Place: He besought me to suffer no Fears upon
               his Account, for he cou'd do nothing that Honour shou'd not dictate; but he accus'd
               himself for having suffer'd Slavery so long; yet he charg'd that weakness on Love
               alone, who<pb n="145"/> was capable of making him neglect even Glory it self; and,
               for which, now he reproches himself every moment of the Day. Much more to this effect
               he spoke, with an Air impatient enough to make me know he wou'd not be long in
               Bondage; and though he suffer'd only the Name of a Slave, and had nothing of the Toil
               and Labour of one, yet that was sufficient to render him Uneasy; and he had been too
               long Idle, who us'd to be always in Action, and in Arms: He had a Spirit all Rough
               and Fierce, and that cou'd not be tam'd to lazy Rest; and though all endeavors were
               us'd to exercise himself in such Actions and Sports as this World afforded, as
               Running, Wrastling, Pitching the Bar, Hunting and Fishing,<pb n="146"/> Chasing and
               Killing <hi rend="italic">Tigers</hi> of a monstrous Size, which this Continent affords in
               abundance; and wonderful <hi rend="italic">Snakes,</hi> such as <ref target="Alexander_" corresp="Alexander">Alexander</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Alexander" target="Alexander_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">The reference here is to Alexander the Great, who
                  by legend met Thallestris, the Queen of the Amazons, a race of female warriors,
                  whose home was near the river Jaxartes, which reportedly had brightly-colored
                  poisonous snakes. There is no historical evidence for this, but the stories were
                  told over and over again in historical romances from antiquity onwards, which is
                  the context that Behn is invoking here.</note> is reported to have incounter'd at
               the River of <hi rend="italic">Amazons,</hi> and which <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> took great Delight to
               overcome; yet these were not Actions great enough for his large Soul, which was still
               panting after more renown'd Action.</p>

            <p>Before I parted that Day with him, I got, with much ado, a Promise from him to rest
               yet a little longer with Patience, and wait the coming of the Lord Governor, who was
               every Day expected on our Shore; he assur'd me he wou'd, and this Promise he desired
               me to know was given perfectly in Complaisance to me,<pb n="147"/>in whom he had an
               intire Confidence.</p>

            <p>After this, I neither thought it convenient to trust him much out of our View, nor
               did the Country who fear'd him; but with one accord it was advis'd to treat him
               Fairly, and oblige him to remain within such a compass, and that he shou'd be
               permitted, as seldom as cou'd be, to go up to the Plantations of the Negroes; or, if
               he did, to be accompany'd by some that shou'd be rather in appearance Attendants than
               Spys. This Care was for some time taken, and <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> look'd upon it as a Mark
               of extraordinary Respect, and was glad his discontent had oblig'd 'em to be more
               observant to him; he received new assurance from <pb n="148"/>the Overseer, which was
               confirmed to him by the Opinion of all the Gentlemen of the Country, who made their
               court to him: During this time that we had his Company more frequently than hitherto
               we had had, it may not be unpleasant to relate to you the Diversions we entertain'd
               him with, or rather he us.</p>

            <p>My stay was to be short in that Country, because my Father dy'd at Sea, and never
               arriv'd to possess the Honour was design'd him, (which was Lieutenant-General of Six
               and thirty Islands, besides the Continent of <hi rend="italic">Surinam)</hi> nor the advantages he
               hop'd to reap by them; so that though we were oblig'd to continue on our Voyage, we
               did not <pb n="149"/>intend to stay upon the Place: Though, in a Word, I must say
               thus much of it, That certainly had <ref target="Majesty_" corresp="Majesty">his late Majesty, of sacred Memory,</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Majesty" target="Majesty_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Charles II, who ruled from 1660 to 1685. As a staunch supporter of the Stuart monarchy, Behn laments his comparatively recent death, and also that he allowed Surinam and by extension the British foothold in South America, to go to the Dutch as one of the terms of the Treaty of Breda in 1667.</note> but seen and
               known what a vast and charming World he had been Master off in that Continent, he
               would never have parted so Easily with it to the <hi rend="italic">Dutch.</hi> 'Tis a Continent
               whose vast Extent was never yet known, and may contain more Noble Earth than all the
               Universe besides; for, they say, it reaches from East to West; one Way as far as
                  <hi rend="italic">China,</hi> and another to <hi rend="italic">Peru:</hi> It affords all things both for
               Beauty and Use; 'tis there Eternal Spring, always the very Months of <hi rend="italic">April,
                  May</hi> and <hi rend="italic">June;</hi> the Shades are perpetual, the Trees, bearing at once
               all degrees of Leaves and Fruit,<pb n="150"/> from blooming Buds to ripe Autumn;
               Groves of Oranges, Limons, Citrons, Figs, Nutmegs, and noble Aromaticks, continually
               bearing their Fragrancies. The Trees appearing all like <ref target="Nosegays_" corresp="Nosegays">Nosegays</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Nosegays" target="Nosegays_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Fragrant bouquets</note> adorn'd with Flowers of
               different kind; some are all White, some Purple, some Scarlet, some Blew, some
               Yellow; bearing, at the same time, Ripe Fruit and Blooming Young, or producing every
               Day new. The very Wood of all these Trees have an intrinsick Value above common
               Timber; for they are, when cut, of different Colours, glorious to behold; and bear a
               Price considerable, to inlay withal. Besides this, they yield rich Balm, and Gums; so
               that we make our Candles of such an Aromatick Substance, as<pb n="151"/> does not
               only give a sufficient Light, but, as they Burn, they cast their Perfumes all about.
               Cedar is the common Firing, and all the Houses are built with it. The very Meat we
               eat, when set on the Table, if it be Native, I mean of the Country, perfumes the
               whole Room; especially a little Beast call'd an <hi rend="italic">Armadilly,</hi> a thing which I
               can liken to nothing so well as a <hi rend="italic">Rhinoceros;</hi> 'tis all in white Armor so
               joynted, that it moves as well in it, as if it had nothing on; this Beast is about
               the bigness of a Pig of Six Weeks old. But it were endless to give an Account of all
               the divers Wonderfull and Strange things that Country affords, and which we took a
               very great Delight to go in search of; though <pb n="152"/>those adventures are
               oftentimes Fatal and at least Dangerous: But while we had <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> in our
               Company on these Designs we fear'd no harm, nor suffer'd any.</p>

            <p>As soon as I came into the Country, the best House in it was presented me, call'd St.
                  <hi rend="italic">John's Hill.</hi> It stood on a vast Rock of white Marble, at the Foot of
               which the River ran a vast depth down, and not to be descended on that side; the
               little Waves still dashing and washing the foot of this Rock, made the softest
               Murmurs and Purlings in the World; and the Oposite Bank was adorn'd with such vast
               quantities of different Flowers eternally Blowing, and every Day and Hour new, fenc'd
               behind 'em with lofty Trees of a Thousand rare<pb n="153"/> Forms and Colours, that
               the Prospect was the most raving that Sands can create. On the Edge of this white
               Rock, towards the River, was a Walk or Grove of Orange and Limon Trees, about half
               the length of the <ref target="Mall_" corresp="Mall">Mall</ref> here<note xml:id="Mall" target="Mall_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Pall
                  Mall, one of the straightest avenues in London, well known in Behn's era as a
                  place for the socially ambitious to promenade.</note>, whose Flowery and Fruity
               bear Branches meet at the top, and hinder'd the Sun, whose Rays are very fierce
               there, from entering a Beam into the Grove; and the cool Air that came from the River
               made it not only fit to entertain People in, at all the hottest Hours of the Day, but
               refresh'd the sweet Blossoms, and made it always Sweet and harming; and sure the
               whole Globe of the World cannot show so delightful a Place as this Grove was: Not all
               the Gardens of boasted<pb n="154"/>
               <hi rend="italic">Italy</hi> can produce a Shade to outvie this, which Nature had joyn'd with Art
               to render so exceeding Fine; and 'tis a marvel to see how such vast Trees, as big as
               English Oaks, cou'd take footing on so solid a Rock, and in so little Earth, as
               cover'd that Rock but all things by Nature there are Rare, Delightful and Wonderful.
               But to our Sports;</p>

            <p>Sometimes we wou'd go surprizing, and in search of young <ref target="Tigers_" corresp="Tigers">Tigers</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Tigers" target="Tigers_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">There are, of course, no tigers in Surinam, so
                  either Behn is thinking of some other kind of large carnivore such a jaguar (which
                  does exist in Surinam), or is fancifully adding this detail.</note> in their Dens,
               watching when the old Ones went forth to forage for Prey; and oftentimes we have been
               in great Danger, and have fled apace for our Lives, when surpriz'd by the <ref target="Dams_" corresp="Dams">Dams</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Dams" target="Dams_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Mothers</note>. But once, above
               all other times, we went on this Design, and <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> was with us, who had no
                  sooner<pb n="155"/>stol'n a young <hi rend="italic">Tiger</hi> from her Nest, but going off, we
               incounter'd the Dam, bearing a Buttock of a Cow, which he had torn off with his
               mighty Paw, and going with it towards his <hi rend="italic">Den;</hi> we had only four Women,
                  <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> and an English Gentleman, Brother to <hi rend="italic">Harry Martin,</hi> the
               great <ref target="Oliverian_" corresp="Oliverian">Oliverian;</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Oliverian" target="Oliverian_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Follower of Oliver
                  Cromwell, the leader of the Parliamentary forces in the Civil War and head of the
                  Commonwealth government that ruled England in the 1650s.</note> we found there was
               no escaping this inrag'd and ravenous Beast. However, we Women fled as fast as we
               cou'd from it; but our Heels had not sav'd our Lives, if <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> had not laid
               down his <hi rend="italic">Cub,</hi> when he found the <hi rend="italic">Tiger</hi> quit her Prey to make the
               more speed towards him; and taking Mr. <hi rend="italic">Martin</hi>'s Sword desir'd him to stand
               aside, or follow the Ladies. He obey'd him, and <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> met this monstrous<pb n="156"/> Beast of might, size, and vast Limbs, who came with open Jaws upon him;
               and fixing his Awful stern Eyes full upon those of the Beast, and putting himself
               into a very steddy and good aiming posture of Defence, ran his Sword quite through
               his Breast down to his very Heart, home to the Hilt of the Sword; the dying Beast
               stretch'd forth her Paw, and going to grasp his Thigh, surpris'd with Death in that
               very moment, did him no other harm than fixing her long Nails in his Flesh very deep,
               feebly wounded him, but cou'd not grasp the Flesh to tear off any. When he had done
               this, he hollow'd to us to return; which, after some assurance of his Victory, we
               did, and found him lugging<pb n="157"/> out the Sword from the Bosom of the
                  <hi rend="italic">Tiger,</hi> who was laid in her Bloud on the Ground; he took up the
                  <hi rend="italic">Cub,</hi> and with an unconcern, that had nothing of the Joy or Gladness of a
               Victory, he came and laid the Whelp at my Feet: We all extreamly wonder'd at his
               Daring, and at the Bigness of the Beast, which was about the highth of an Heifer, but
               of mighty, great, and strong Limbs.</p>

            <p>Another time, being in the Woods, he kill'd a <hi rend="italic">Tiger,</hi> which had long infested
               that part, and born away abundance of Sheep and Oxen, and other things, that were for
               the support of those to whom they belong'd; abundance of People assail'd this Beast,
               some affirming they had shot her<pb n="158"/> with several Bullets quite through the
               Body, at several times; and some swearing they shot her through the very Heart, and
               they believ'd she was a Devil rather than a Mortal thing. <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> had often
               said, he had a mind to encounter this Monster, and spoke with several Gentlemen who
               had attempted her; one crying, I shot her with so many poyson'd Arrows, another with
               his Gun in this part of her, and another in that; so that he remarking all these
               Places where she was shot, fancy'd still he shou'd overcome her, by giving her
               another sort of a Wound than any had yet done; and one day said (at the Table)
                  <hi rend="italic">What Trophies and Garlands Ladies will you make me, if I bring you home the
                  Heart of</hi>
               <pb n="159"/>
               <hi rend="italic">this Ravenous Beast, that eats up all your Lambs and Pigs?</hi> We all promis'd
               he shou'd be rewarded at all our Hands. So taking a Bow, which he chus'd out of a
               great many, he went up in the Wood with two Gentlemen, where he imagin'd this
               Devourer to be; they had not past very far in it, but they heard her Voice, growling
               and grumbling, as if she were pleas'd with something she was doing. When they came in
               view, they found her muzzling in the Belly of a new ravish'd Sheep, which she had
               torn open; and seeing herself approach'd, she took fast hold of her Prey, with her
               fore Paws, and set a very fierce raging Look on <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> without offering to
               approach him; for fear, at the<pb n="160"/> same time, of loosing what she had in
               Possession. So that <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> remain'd a good while, only taking aim, and
               getting an opportunity to shoot her where he design'd; 'twas some time before he
               cou'd accomplish it, and to wound her, and not kill her, wou'd but have enrag'd her
               more, and indanger'd him: He had a Quiver of Arrows at his side, so that if one
               fail'd he cou'd be supply'd; at last, retiring a little, he gave her opportunity to
               eat, for he found she was Ravenous, and fell too as soon as she saw him retire; being
               more eager of her Prey than of doing new Mischiefs. When he going softly to one side
               of her, and hiding his Person behind certain Herbage that grew high and thick, <pb n="161"/>he took so good aim, that, as he intended, he shot her just into the Eye,
               and the Arrow was sent with so good a will, and so sure a hand, that it stuck in her
               Brain, and made her caper, and become mad for a moment or two; but being seconded by
               another Arrow, he fell dead upon the Prey: <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> cut him Open with a Knife,
               to see where those Wounds were that had been reported to him, and why he did not Die
               of 'em. But I shall now relate a thing that possibly will find no Credit among Men,
               because 'tis a Notion commonly receiv'd with us, That nothing can receive a Wound in
               the Heart and Live; but when the Heart of this courageous Animal was taken out, there
               were Seven<pb n="162"/> Bullets of Lead in it, and the Wounds seam'd up with great
               Scars, and she liv'd with the Bullets a great while, for it was long since they were
               shot: This Heart the Conqueror brought up to us, and 'twas a very great Curiosity,
               which all the Country came to see; and which gave <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> occasion of many
               fine Discourses; of Accidents in War, and Strange Escapes.</p>

            <p>At other times he wou'd go a Fishing; and discoursing on that Diversion, he found we
               had in that Country a very Strange Fish, call'd, a <ref target="Numb_" corresp="Numb">Numb Eel,</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Numb" target="Numb_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">An electric eel</note> (an <hi rend="italic">Eel</hi> of which I
               have eaten) that while it is alive, it has a quality so Cold, that those who are
               Angling, though with a Line of never so great a length, with a Rod <pb n="163"/>at
               the end of it, it shall, in the same minute the Bait is touched by this <hi rend="italic">Eel,</hi>
               seize him or her that holds the Rod with benumb'dness, that shall deprive 'em of
               Sense, for a while; and some have fall'n into the Water, and others drop'd as dead on
               the Banks of the Rivers where they stood, as soon as this Fish touches the Bait.
                  <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> us'd to laugh at this, and believ'd it impossible a Man cou'd
               loose his Force at the touch of a Fish; and cou'd not understand that Philosophy,
               that a cold Quality should be of that Nature: However, he had a great Curiosity to
               try whether it wou'd have the same effect on him it had on others, and often try'd,
               but in vain; at last, the sought for<pb n="164"/> Fish came to the Bait, as he stood
               Angling on the Bank; and instead of throwing away the Rod, or giving it a sudden
               twitch out of the Water, whereby he might have caught both the <hi rend="italic">Eel,</hi> and have
               dismist the Rod, before it cou'd have too much Power over him; for Experiment sake,
               he grasp'd it but the harder, and fainting fell into the River; and being still
               possest of the Rod, the Tide carry'd him senseless as he was a great way, till an
                  <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> Boat took him up; and perceiv'd, when they touch'd him, a Numbness
               seize them, and by that knew the Rod was in his Hand; which, with a Paddle (that is,
               a short Oar) they struck away, and snatch'd it into the Boat, <pb n="165"/>
                            <hi rend="italic">Eel</hi> and all. If <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> were almost Dead, with the effect of
               this Fish, he was more so with that of the Water, where he had remain'd the space of
               going a League; and they found they had much a-do to bring him back to Life: But, at
               last, they did, and brought him home, where he was in a few Hours well Recover'd and
               Refresh'd; and not a little Asham'd to find he shou'd be overcome by an <hi rend="italic">Eel;</hi>
               and that all the People, who heard his Defiance, wou'd Laugh at him. But we cheared
               him up; and he, being convinc'd, we had the <hi rend="italic">Eel</hi> at Supper; which was a
               quarter of an <ref target="Ell_" corresp="Ell">Ell</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Ell" target="Ell_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">An ell is a unit of
                  measurement; it varied from place to place and at different times, but an English
                  ell of this period would have been about 45 inches</note> about, and most delicate
               Meat; and was of the more Value, since it cost so<pb n="166"/>Dear, as almost the
               Life of so gallant a Man.</p>

            <p>About this time we were in many mortal Fears, about some Disputes the
                  <hi rend="italic">English</hi> had with the <hi rend="italic">Indians;</hi> so that we cou'd scarce trust our
               selves, without great Numbers, to go to any <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> Towns, or Place, where
               they abode; for fear they shou'd fall upon us, as they did immediately after my
               coming away; and that it was in the possession of the <hi rend="italic">Dutch,</hi> who us'd 'em
               not so civilly as the <hi rend="italic">English;</hi> so that they cut in pieces all they cou'd
               take, getting into Houses, and hanging up the Mother, and all her Children about her;
               and cut a Footman, I left behind me, all in Joynts, and nail'd him to Trees.</p>

            <p>
               <pb n="167"/> This feud began while I was there; so that I lost half the satisfaction
               I propos'd, in not seeing and visiting the <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> Towns. But one Day,
               bemoaning of our Misfortunes upon this account, <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> told us, we need not
               Fear; for if we had a mind to go, he wou'd undertake to be our Guard: Some wou'd, but
               most wou'd not venture; about Eighteen of us resolv'd, and took Barge; and, after
               Eight Days, arriv'd near an <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> Town: But approaching it, the Hearts of
               some of our Company fail'd, and they wou'd not venture on Shore; so we Poll'd who
               wou'd, and who wou'd not: For my part, I said, If <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> wou'd, I wou'd go;
               he resolv'd, so did my Brother, and<pb n="168"/> my Woman, a Maid of good Courage.
               Now none of us speaking the Language of the People, and imagining we shou'd have a
               half Diversion in Gazing only; and not knowing what they said, we took a Fisherman
               that liv'd at the Mouth of the River, who had been a long Inhabitant there, and
               oblig'd him to go with us: But because he was known to the <hi rend="italic">Indians,</hi> as
               trading among 'em; and being, by long Living there, become a perfect <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi>
               in Colour, we, who resolv'd to surprize 'em, by making 'em see something they never
               had seen, (that is, White People) resolv'd only my self, my Brother, and Woman shou'd
               go; so <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> the Fisherman, and the rest, hiding behind some<pb n="169"/>
               thick Reeds and Flowers, that grew on the Banks, let us pass on towards the Town,
               which was on the Bank of the River all along. A little distant from the Houses, or
               Hutts; we saw some Dancing, others busy'd in fetching and carrying of Water from the
               River: They had no sooner spy'd us, but they set up a loud Cry, that frighted us at
               first; we thought it had been for those that should Kill us, but it seems it was of
               Wonder and Amazement. They were all Naked, and we were Dress'd, so as is most comode
               for the hot Countries, very Glittering and Rich; so that we appear'd extreamly fine;
               my own Hair was cut short, and I had a Taffaty Cap, with Black Feathers, on my<pb n="170"/> Head; my Brother was in a Stuff Sute, with Silver Loops and Buttons, and
               abundance of Green Ribon; this was all infinitely surprising to them, and because we
               saw them stand still, till we approach'd 'em, we took Heart and advanc'd; came up to
               'em, and offer'd 'em our Hands; which they took, and look'd on us round about,
               calling still for more Company; who came swarming out, all wondering, and crying out
                  <hi rend="italic">Tepeeme;</hi> taking their Hair up in their Hands, and spreading it wide to
               those they call'd out too; as if they would say (as indeed it signify'd)
                  <hi rend="italic">Numberless Wonders,</hi> or not to be recounted, no more than to number the
               Hair of their Heads. By degrees they grew<pb n="171"/> more bold, and from gazing
               upon us round, they touch'd us; laying their Hands upon all the Features of our
               Faces, feeling our Breasts and Arms, taking up one Petticoat, then wondering to see
               another; admiring our Shooes and Stockings, but more our Garters, which we gave 'em;
               and they ty'd about their Legs, being Lac'd with Silver Lace at the ends, for they
               much Esteem any <ref target="shining_" corresp="shining">shining things</ref>
                            <note xml:id="shining" target="shining" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Behn’s description of Native American gentleness and fascination with European
                  dress and trinkets is an exploitive theme common throughout early colonial
                  American literature. In most of the colonial writings regarding Native Americans,
                  the tribes encountered are often depicted as subservient and attracted to lustrous
                  items rather than those things which might possess monetary value. Writers of the
                  period employed instances of civil exchange, fascination, and amity between white
                  Europeans and Native Americans to engender merchants to settle the New World as
                  well as convince wealthy aristocrats and merchants to patron campaigns to
                  westernize and impose dominion by means of Christian conversion.</note>: In fine,
               we suffer'd 'em to survey us as they pleas'd, and we thought they wou'd never have
               done admiring us. When <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> and the rest, saw we were receiv'd with such
               wonder, they came up to us; and finding the <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> Trader whom they knew,
               (for 'tis <pb n="172"/> by these Fishermen, call'd <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> Traders, we hold a
               Commerce with 'em; for they love not to go far from home, and we never go to them)
               when they saw him therefore they set up a new Joy; and cry'd, in their Language,
                  <hi rend="italic">Oh! here's our</hi>
               <ref target="Tiguamy_" corresp="Tiguamy">Tiguamy</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Tiguamy" target="Tiguamy_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Janet Todd notes that the phrase
                  "Amora tiguamy" appears in Antione Biet’s <hi rend="italic">Voyage de la France
                     équixonale en l’isle de Cayenne</hi> (1654, pp. 395-7). Todd argues that Behn
                  records a traditional greeting and provides the translation herself; however, it
                  should be noted that the term Amora has connection with the Latin Amore,
                  suggesting that Behn plays with contemporary accounts and phonetics to further
                  depict the indigenous characters as loving and peaceful. The phrase likely
                  developed out of interactions between the natives and the Spanish.</note>, <hi rend="italic">and
                  we shall now know whether those things can speak:</hi> So advancing to him, some
               of 'em gave him their Hands, and cry'd, <hi rend="italic">Amora Tiguamy,</hi> which is as much as,
                  <hi rend="italic">How do you,</hi> or <hi rend="italic">Welcome Friend;</hi> and all, with one din, began to
               gabble to him, and ask'd, If we had Sense, and Wit? if we cou'd talk of affairs of
               Life, and War, as they cou'd do? if we cou'd Hunt, Swim, and do a thousand things
               they use? He answer'd 'em, We cou'd. Then <pb n="173"/>they invited us into their
               Houses, and dress'd Venison and Buffelo for us; and, going out, gathered a Leaf of a
               Tree, call'd a <ref target="Sarumbo_" corresp="Sarumbo">Sarumbo</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Sarumbo" target="Sarumbo_">Todd notes that Behn borrowed the word sarumbo from Biet as well;
                  Biet observes that these large leaves were used as napkins.</note> Leaf, of Six
               Yards long, and spread it on the Ground for a Table-Cloth; and cutting another in
               pieces instead of Plates, setting us on little bow <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> Stools, which they
               cut out of one intire piece of Wood, and Paint, in a sort of Japan Work: They serve
               every one their <ref target="Mess_" corresp="Mess">Mess</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Mess" target="Mess_">A serving of food; a course; or a meal. Source: Oxford English
                  Dictionary</note> on these pieces of Leaves, and it was very good, but too high
               season'd with Pepper. When we had eat, my Brother, and I, took out our Flutes, and
               play'd to 'em, which gave 'em new Wonder; and I soon perceiv'd, by an admiration,
               that is natural to these<pb n="174"/> People; and by the extream Ignorance and
               Simplicity of 'em, it were not difficult to establish any unknown or extravagant
               Religion among them; and to impose any Notions or Fictions upon 'em. For seeing a
               Kinsman of mine set some Paper a Fire, with a <ref target="Burning_" corresp="Burning">Burning-glass</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Burning" target="Burning_">A lens, by which the rays of
                  the sun may be concentrated on an object, so as to burn it if combustible. Source:
                  Oxford English Dictionary</note>, a Trick they had never before seen, they were
               like to have Ador'd him for a God; and beg'd he wou'd give them the Characters or
               Figures of his Name, that they might oppose it against Winds and Storms; which he
               did, and they held it up in those Seasons, and fancy'd it had a Charm to conquer
               them; and kept it like a Holy Relique. They are very Superstitious, and call'd him
                  the<pb n="175"/> Great <hi rend="italic">Peeie,</hi> that is, <hi rend="italic">Prophet</hi>. They showed us
               their <hi rend="italic">Indian Peeie</hi> a Youth of about Sixteen Years old, as handsom as Nature
               cou'd make a Man. They consecrate a beautiful Youth from his Infancy, and all Arts
               are us'd to compleat him in the finest manner, both in Beauty and Shape: He is bred
               to all the little Arts and cunning they are capable of; to all the <ref target="Legerdemain_" corresp="Legerdemain">Legerdemain</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Legerdemain" target="Legerdemain_">Juggling or
                  conjuring tricks. Deception, from the French leger de main, literally "light of
                  hand."</note> Tricks, and Slight of Hand, whereby he imposes upon the Rabble; and
               is both a Doctor in Physick and Divinity. And by these Tricks makes the Sick believe
               he sometimes eases their Pains; by drawing from the afflicted part little Serpents,
               or odd Flies, or Worms, or any Strange thing; and though<pb n="176"/>they have
               besides undoubted good Remedies, for almost all their Diseases, they cure the Patient
               more by Fancy than by Medicines; and make themselves Fear'd, Lov'd, and <ref target="Reverenc_" corresp="Reverenc">Reverenc'd</ref>.<note xml:id="Reverenc" target="Reverenc_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Behn describes the tribe as
                  passing down its highest artistic and scientific knowledge to a select member who
                  undergoes rigorous training from youth. This pattern relates to ideal models of
                  aristocratic education in European society.</note> This young <hi rend="italic">Peeie</hi> had a
               very young Wife, who seeing my Bròther kiss her, came running and kiss'd me; after
               this, they kiss'd one another, and made it a very great Jest, it being so Novel; and
               new Admiration and Laughing went round the Multitude, that they never will forget
               that Ceremony, never before us'd or known. <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> had a mind to see and talk
               with their War <hi rend="italic">Captains,</hi> and we were conducted to one of their Houses; where
               we beheld several of the <pb n="177"/>great <hi rend="italic">Captains,</hi> who had been at
               Councel: But so frightful a Vision it was to see 'em no Fancy can create; no such
               Dreams can represent so dreadful a Spectacle. For my part I took 'em for Hobgoblins,
               or Fiends, rather than Men; but however their Shapes appear'd, their Souls were very
               Humane and Noble; but some wanted their Noses, some their Lips, some both Noses and
               Lips, some their Ears, and others Cut through each Cheek, with long Slashes, through
               which their Teeth appear'd; they had other several formidable Wounds and Scars, or
               rather Dismemberings; they had <ref target="Comitias_" corresp="Comitias">Comitias,</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Comitias" target="Comitias_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Todd
                  notes that Behn may have borrowed from Biet yet again. Biet claims Indians wore a
                  small piece of clothing called a camison.</note> or little Aprons before 'em; and
               Girdles of Cotton, with their Knives naked,<pb n="178"/> stuck in it; a Bow at their
               Backs, and a Quiver of Arrows on their Thighs; and most had Feathers on their Heads
               of divers Colours. They cry'd, <hi rend="italic">Amora Tigame</hi> to us, at our entrance, and were
               pleas'd we said as much to em; they seated us, and gave us Drink of the best Sort;
               and wonder'd, as much as the others had done before, to see us. <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> was
               marvelling as much at their Faces, wondering how they shou'd all be so Wounded in
               War; he was Impatient to know how they all came by those frightful Marks of Rage or
               Malice, rather than Wounds got in Noble Battel: They told us, by our Interpreter,
               That when any War was waging, two<pb n="179"/> Men chosen out by some old
                  <hi rend="italic">Captain,</hi> whose Fighting was past, and who cou'd only teach the Theory of
               War, these two Men were to stand in Competition for the Generalship, or Great War
               Captain; and being brought before the old Judges, now past Labour, they are ask'd,
               What they dare do to shew they are worthy to lead an Army? When he, who is first
               ask'd, making no Reply, Cuts of his Nose, and throws it contemptably on the Ground;
               and the other does something to himself that he thinks surpasses him, and perhaps
               deprives himself of Lips and an Eye; so they Slash on till one gives out, and many
               have dy'd in this Debate. And 'its by a passive Valour they <pb n="180"/>shew and
               prove their Activity; a sort of Courage too Brutal to be applauded by our Black Hero;
               nevertheless he express'd his Esteem of 'em.</p>

            <p>In this Voyage <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> begot so good an understanding between the
                  <hi rend="italic">Indians</hi> and the <hi rend="italic">English,</hi> that there were no more Fears, or <ref target="Heartburn_" corresp="Heartburn">Heart-burnings</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Heartburn" target="Heartburn_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Jealousy, resentment, or
                  discontent; grudges. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> during our stay; but
               we had a perfect, open, and free Trade with 'em: Many things Remarkable, and worthy
               Reciting, we met with in this short Voyage; because <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> made it his
               Business to search out and provide for our Entertainment, especially to please his
               dearly Ador'd <hi rend="italic">Imoinda,</hi> who was a sharer in all our Adventures; we being
               resolv'd to make her Chains as easy as we cou'd, and<pb n="181"/> to Compliment the
               Prince in that manner that most oblig'd him.</p>

            <p>As we were coming up again, we met with some <hi rend="italic">Indians</hi> of strange Aspects;
               that is, of a larger Size, and other sort of Features, than those of our Country: Our
                  <hi rend="italic">Indian Slaves,</hi> that Row'd us, ask'd 'em some Questions, but they cou'd
               not understand us; but shew'd us a long Cotton String, with several Knots on it; and
               told us, they had been coming from the Mountains so many <ref target="Moons_" corresp="Moons">Moons</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Moons" target="Moons_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Months</note> as there were Knots; they were
               habited in Skins of a strange Beast, and brought along with 'em Bags of Gold Dust;
               which, as well as they cou'd give us to understand, came streaming in<pb n="182"/>
               little small Chanels down the high Mountains, when the Rains fell; and offer'd to be
               the Convoy to any Body, or Persons, that wou'd go to the <ref target="Mountains" corresp="Mountains">Mountains</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Mountains" target="Mountains_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Europeans still believed that a golden city, or El
                  Dorado, existed in the South American mountains</note>. We carry'd these Men up to
                  <hi rend="italic">Parham,</hi> where they were kept till the Lord Governour came: And because
               all the Country was mad to be going on this Golden Adventure, the Governour, by his
               Letters, commanded (for they sent some of the Gold to him) that a Guard shou'd be set
               at the Mouth of the River of <ref target="Amazons_" corresp="Amazons">Amazons</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Amazons" target="Amazons_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Todd
                  explains that this is a geographic blunder. The mouth of the Amazon is in Brazil,
                  but cartographers had drawn it as the south-eastern border of “Guiana” throughout
                  the seventeenth century.</note>, (a River so call'd, almost as broad as the River
               of <hi rend="italic">Thames)</hi> and prohibited all People from going up that River, it conducting
               to those Mountains of Gold. But we going off for <hi rend="italic">England</hi> before <pb n="183"/>the Project was further prosecuted, and the Governour being drown'd in a Hurricane,
               either the Design dy'd, or the <hi rend="italic">Dutch</hi> have the Advantage of it: And 'tis to
               be bemoan'd what his Majesty lost by loosing that part of <hi rend="italic">America.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>Though this digression is a little from my Story, however since it contains some
               Proofs of the Curiosity and Daring of this great Man, I was content to omit nothing
               of his Character.</p>

            <p>It was thus, for sometime we diverted him; but now <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> began to shew she
               was with Child, and did nothing but Sigh and Weep for the Captivity of her Lord, her
               Self, and the Infant yet Unborn; and believ'd,<pb n="184"/> if it were so hard to
               gain the Liberty of Two, 'twou'd be more difficult to get that for Three. Her Griefs
               were so many Darts in the great Heart of <hi rend="italic">Caesar;</hi> and taking his Opportunity
               one <hi rend="italic">Sunday,</hi> when all the Whites were overtaken in Drink, as there were
               abundance of several Trades, and <hi rend="italic">Slaves</hi> for Four Years, that Inhabited among
               the <hi rend="italic">Negro</hi> Houses; and <hi rend="italic">Sunday</hi> was their Day of Debauch, (otherwise
               they were a sort of Spys upon <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi>;) he went pretending out of Goodness to
               'em, to Feast amongst 'em; and sent all his Musick, and order'd a great Treat for the
               whole Gang, about Three Hundred <hi rend="italic">Negros;</hi> and about a Hundred and Fifty were
               able to bear Arms, such as <pb n="185"/>they had, which were sufficient to do
               Execution with Spirits accordingly: For the <hi rend="italic">English</hi> had none but rusty
               Swords, that no Strength cou'd draw from a Scabbard; except the People of particular
               Quality, who took care to Oyl 'em and keep 'em in good Order: The Guns also, unless
               here and there one, or those newly carri'd from <hi rend="italic">England,</hi> wou'd do no good or
               harm; for 'tis the Nature of that County to Rust and Eat up Iron, or any Metals, but
               Gold and Silver. And they are very Unexpert at the Bow, which the <hi rend="italic">Negros</hi> and
                  <hi rend="italic">Indians</hi> are perfect Masters off.</p>

            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> having singl'd out these Men from the Women and Children, made an
                  <ref target="Harangue_" corresp="Harangue">Harangue</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Harangue" target="Harangue" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">A tirade. The term first appears
                  c1450, but only in Scottish writings. It was not used in England until c1600. It
                  derives from medieval Latin harenga, which shares the current definition, and the
                  Italian aringo, a place of declamation, arena.</note>
                            <pb n="186"/> to 'em of the
               Miseries, and Ignominies of Slavery; counting up all their Toyls and Sufferings,
               under such Loads, Burdens, and Drudgeries, as were fitter for Beasts than Men;
               Senseless Brutes, than Humane Souls. He told 'em it was not for Days, Months, or
               Years, but for Eternity; there was no end to be of their Misfortunes: They suffer'd
               not like Men who might find a Glory, and Fortitude in Oppression; but like Dogs that
               lov'd the Whip and Bell, and fawn'd the more they were beaten: That they had lost the
               Divine Quality of Men, and were become insensible Asses, fit only to bear; nay worse:
               an Ass, or Dog, or Horse having done his Duty, cou'd lye down<pb n="187"/> in
               Retreat, and rise to Work again, and while he did his Duty indur'd no Stripes; but
               Men, Villanous, Senseless Men, such as they, Toyl'd on all the tedious Week till
               Black <ref target="Friday_" corresp="Friday">Friday</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Friday" target="Friday_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">The Day of Judgment.</note>; and
               then, whether they Work'd or not, whether they were Faulty or Meriting, they
               promiscuously, the Innocent with the Guilty, suffer'd the infamous Whip, the sordid
               Stripes, from their Fellow <hi rend="italic">Slaves</hi> till their Blood trickled from all Parts
               of their Body; Blood, whose every drop ought to be Reveng'd with a Life of some of
               those Tyrants, that impose it; <hi rend="italic">And why,</hi> said he, <hi rend="italic">my dear Friends and
                  Fellow-sufferers, shou'd we be Slaves to an unknown People? Have they Vanquish'd
                  us Nobly in Fight? Have they Won</hi>
                            <pb n="188"/>
                            <hi rend="italic"> us in Honourable Battel?
                  And are we, by the chance of War, become their <ref target="Slaves_" corresp="Slaves">Slaves</ref>?<note xml:id="Slaves" target="Slaves_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Oroonoko here is expressing what was known as
                     the "just war" doctrine of slavery, that those who lost a war could rightly be
                     enslaved. It is on this basis that Oroonoko himself owns slaves. The
                     distinction he is making here is that, according to this doctrine, slaves
                     gained through conquest are justified while slaves acquired through trickery or
                     commerce are not.</note> This wou'd not anger a Noble Heart, this wou'd not
                  animate a Souldiers Soul; no, but we are Bought and Sold like Apes, or Monkeys, to
                  be the Sport of Women, Fools and Cowards; and the Support of Rogues, <ref target="Runagades_" corresp="Runagades">Runagades</ref>
                                <note xml:id="Runagades" target="Runagades_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Renegades</note>, that have
                  abandon'd their own Countries, for Rapin, Murders, Thefts and Villanies: Do you
                  not hear every Day how they upbraid each other with infamy of Life, below the
                  Wildest Salvages; and shall we render Obedience to such a degenerate Race, who
                  have no one Humane Vertue left, to distinguish 'em from the vilest Creatures? Will
                  you, I say, suffer the Lash from such Hands?</hi> They all Reply'd, with one
                  accord,<pb n="189"/>
               <hi rend="italic">No, no, no;</hi> Caesar <hi rend="italic">has spoke like a Great Captain; like a Great
                  King.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>After this he wou'd have proceeded, but was interrupted by a tall <hi rend="italic">Negro</hi> of
               some more Quality than the rest, his Name was <ref target="Tuscan_" corresp="Tuscan">Tuscan;</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Tuscan" target="Tuscan_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Tuscan’s name derives from the late Latin Tuscānus
                  meaning “of or belonging to the Tuscī or Thuscī, a people of ancient Italy (called
                  also Etruscī Etruscans).” Source: Oxford English Dictionary The Etruscans
                  inhabited ancient Etruria, so Tuscan’s name implies nobility and European
                  origins.</note> who Bowing at the Feet of <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> cry'd, <hi rend="italic">My Lord, we
                  have listen'd with Joy and Attention to what you have said; and, were we only Men,
                  wou'd follow so great a Leader through the World: But oh! consider, we are
                  Husbands and Parents too, and have things more dear to us than Life; our Wives and
                  Children unfit for Travel, in these unpassable Woods, Mountains and Bogs; we have
                  not only difficult Lands to overcome, but Rivers to Wade, and Monsters to
                  Incounter;</hi>
                            <pb n="190"/>
               <hi rend="italic">Ravenous Beasts of Prey—</hi>To this, <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> Reply'd, <hi rend="italic">That Honour
                  was the First Principle in Nature, that was to be Obey'd; but as no Man wou'd
                  pretend to that, without all the Acts of Vertue, Compassion, Charity, Love,
                  Justice and Reason; he found it not inconsistent with that, to take an equal Care
                  of their Wives and Children, as they wou'd of themselves; and that he did not
                  Design, when he led them to Freedom, and Glorious Liberty, that they shou'd leave
                  that better part of themselves to Perish by the Hand of the Tyrant's Whip: But if
                  there were a Woman among them so degenerate from Love and Vertue to chuse Slavery
                  before the pursuit of her Husband, and with the hazard of her Life, to share with
                  him in</hi>
               <pb n="191"/>
                            <hi rend="italic">his Fortunes; that such an one ought to be Abandon'd, and left as a
                  Prey to the common Enemy.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>To which they all Agreed,—and Bowed. After this, he spoke of the Impassable Woods and
               Rivers; and convinc'd 'em, the more Danger, the more Glory. He told them that he had
               heard of one <hi rend="italic">Hannibal</hi> a great Captain, had <ref target="cut-his-way_" corresp="cut-his-way">Cut his Way</ref> through Mountains of solid Rocks<note xml:id="cut-his-way" target="cut-his-way_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">According to the
                  Roman historian Plutarch, the Carthaginian general Hannibal used vinegar and fire
                  to burn his way through the Alps to attack the Roman army.</note>; and shou'd a
               few Shrubs oppose them; which they cou'd Fire before 'em? No, 'twas a trifling Excuse
               to Men resolv'd to die, or overcome. As for Bogs, they are with a little Labour
               fill'd and harden'd; and the Rivers cou'd be no Obstacle, since they Swam by Nature;
               at least by<pb n="192"/>Custom, from their First Hour of their Birth: That when the
               Children were Weary they must carry them by turns, and the Woods and their own
               Industry wou'd afford them Food. To this they all assented with Joy.</p>

            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Tuscan</hi> then demanded, What he wou'd do? He said, they wou'd Travel towards
               the Sea; Plant a New Colony, and Defend it by their Valour; and when they cou'd find
               a Ship, either driven by stress of Weather, or guided by Providence that way, they
               wou'd Sieze it, and make it a Prize, till it had Transported them to their own
               Countries; at least, they shou'd be made Free in his Kingdom, and be Esteem'd as his
               Fellowsufferers, and Men that had<pb n="193"/> the Courage, and the Bravery to
               attempt, at least, for Liberty; and if they Dy'd in the attempt it wou'd be more
               brave, than to Live in perpetual Slavery.</p>

            <p>They bow'd and kiss'd his Feet at this Resolution, and with one accord Vow'd to
               follow him to Death. And that Night was appointed to begin their March; they made it
               known to their Wives, and directed them to tie their Hamaca about their Shoulder, and
               under their Arm like a Scarf; and to lead their Children that cou'd go, and carry
               those that cou'd not. The Wives who pay an intire Obedience to their Husbands obey'd,
               and stay'd for 'em, where they were appointed: The Men <pb n="194"/>stay'd but to
               furnish themselves with what defensive Arms they cou'd get; and All met at the
               Rendezvous, where <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> made a new incouraging Speech to 'em, and led 'em
               out.</p>

            <p>But, as they cou'd not march far that Night, on Monday early, when the Overseers went
               to call 'em all together, to go to Work, they were extreamly surpris'd, to find not
               one upon the Place, but all fled with what Baggage they had. You may imagine this
               News was not only suddenly spread all over the <hi rend="italic">Plantation,</hi> but soon reach'd
               the Neighbouring ones; and we had by Noon about Six hundred Men, they call the
                  <hi rend="italic">Militia</hi> of the County, that came to assist us in the persute of the
                  Fugitives:<pb n="195"/> But never did one see so comical an Army march forth to
               War. The Men, of any <ref target="fashion_" corresp="fashion">fashion</ref>
                            <note xml:id="fashion" target="fashion_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Of
                  high social standing; the upper class</note>, wou'd not concern themselves, though
               it were almost the common Cause; for such Revoltings are very ill Examples, and have
               very fatal Consequences oftentimes in many Colonies: But they had a Respect for
                  <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> and all hands were against the <hi rend="italic">Parhamites,</hi> as they
               call'd those of <hi rend="italic">Parham Plantation;</hi> because they did not, in the first place,
               love the Lord Governor; and secondly, they wou'd have it, that <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> was
                  <ref target="Ill_" corresp="Ill">Ill us'd</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Ill" target="Ill_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Poorly treated</note>, and <ref target="Baffled_" corresp="Baffled">Baffl'd with</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Baffled" target="Baffled_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Subjected to public disgrace.
                  Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>; and 'tis not impossible but some of the
               best in the Country was of his Council in this Flight, and depriving us of all
                  the<hi rend="italic"> Slaves;</hi> so that they<pb n="196"/>of the better sort wou'd not meddle
               in the matter. The <ref target="Deputy_" corresp="Deputy">Deputy Governor</ref>, of whom I
               have had no great occasion to speak, and who was the most Fawning fair-tongu'd Fellow
               in the World, and one that pretended the most Friendship to <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> was now
               the only violent Man against him; and though he had nothing, and so need fear
               nothing, yet talk'd and look'd bigger than any Man: He was a Fellow, whose Character
               is not fit to be mention'd with the worst of the <hi rend="italic">Slaves.</hi>
                            <note xml:id="Deputy" target="Deputy_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">William Byam is a
                  real historical personage, noted both in Antione Biet’s <hi rend="italic">Voyage de la France
                  équixonale en l’isle de Cayenne</hi> (1654) and Henry Adis’s <hi rend="italic">A Letter Sent from
                  Syrrinam</hi> (1664). As deputy governor of Surinam, Byam ruled the colony in the
                  absence of Lord Willoughby. According to Flannigan’s Antigua and the Antiguans. <hi rend="italic">A Full Account of the Colony and its Inhabitants</hi>, after the Dutch takeover of
                  Surinam, Byam led many of the British colonists to Antigua, where became governor
                  and lived until c. 1670. Todd notes that both Biet and Adis, otherwise critical of
                  the colony in Surinam, praise Byam: Adis refers to him as “that worthy person,
                  whom your Lordship hath lately honoured with the Title and Power of your
                  Lieutenant General of this Continent of Guinah”; while Biet describes him as
                  brave, honorable, and civil (pp. 263, 279). Behn’s decision to portray him as
                  cowardly and deceitful appears to have been her own. On the other hand, Byam did
                  face accusations of unnecessary cruelty in his governance from an opposition group
                  led by John Allin. Byam wrote a tract <hi rend="italic">An Exact Relation of the Most Execrable
                  Attempts of John Allin</hi> (1665) defending the need for harsh measures to govern the
                  unruly colonists and accusing Allin of insurrection.</note> This Fellow wou'd lead
               his Army forth to meet <hi rend="italic">Caesar;</hi> or rather to persue him; most of their Arms
               were of those sort of cruel Whips they call <ref target="Cat_" corresp="Cat">Cat
                  with Nine Tayls</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Cat" target="Cat_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">More commonly known as a cat-o'-nine-tails, a whip
                  with nine knotted lashes, often used for corporal punishment in the British
                  military until 1881. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>; some had rusty<pb n="197"/> useless Guns for show; others old <ref target="Basket-hilts_" corresp="Basket-hilts">Basket-hilts</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Basket-hilts" target="Basket-hilts_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Defensive hilts on the handle of a sword
                  consisting of narrow plates of steel curved into the shape of a basket</note>,
               whose Blades had never seen the Light in this Age; and others had long Staffs, and
               Clubs. Mr. <hi rend="italic">Trefry</hi> went along, rather to be a Mediator than a Conqueror, in
               such a Batail; for he foresaw, and knew, if by fighting they put the <hi rend="italic">Negroes</hi>
               into dispair, they were a sort of sullen Fellows, that wou'd drown, or kill
               themselves, before they wou'd yield; and he advis'd that fair means was best: But
                  <hi rend="italic">Byam</hi> was one that abounded in his own <ref target="Wit_" corresp="Wit">Wit</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Wit" target="Wit_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Followed his own judgment</note>, and wou'd take
               his own Measures.</p>

            <p>It was not hard to find these Fugitives; for as they fled they were forc'd to fire
               and cut the Woods before 'em, so that Night<pb n="198"/> or Day they persu'd 'em by
               the light they made, and by the path they had clear'd: But as soon as <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi>
               found he was persu'd, he put himself in a Posture of Defence, placing all the Women
               and Children in the Reer; and himself, with <hi rend="italic">Tuscan</hi> by his side, or next to
               him, all promising to Dye or Conquer. Incourag'd thus, they never stood to Parley,
               but fell on Pell-mell upon the <hi rend="italic">English,</hi> and kill'd some, and wounded a good
               many; they having recourse to their Whips, as the best of their Weapons: And as they
               observ'd no Order, they perplex'd the Enemy so sorely, with Lashing 'em in the Eyes;
               and the Women and Children, seeing their Husbands so treated, being of <pb n="199"/>fearful Cowardly Dispositions, and hearing the <hi rend="italic">English</hi> cry out, <hi rend="italic">Yield
                  and Live, Yield and be Pardon'd;</hi> they all run in amongst their Husbands and
               Fathers, and hung about 'em, crying out, <hi rend="italic">Yield, yield; and leave</hi> Caesar
                  <hi rend="italic">to their Revenge;</hi> that by degrees the <hi rend="italic">Slaves</hi> abandon'd
                  <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> and left him only <hi rend="italic">Tuscan</hi> and his Heroick
                  <hi rend="italic">Imoinda;</hi> who, grown big as she was, did nevertheless press near her Lord,
               having a Bow, and a Quiver full of poyson'd Arrows, which she manag'd with such
               dexterity, that she wounded several, and shot the <hi rend="italic">Governor</hi> into the
               Shoulder; of which Wound he had like to have Dy'd, but that an <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> Woman,
               his Mistress, suck'd the Wound, and cleans'd it from<pb n="200"/> the Venom: But
               however, he stir'd not from the Place till he had Parly'd with <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> who
               he found was resolv'd to dye Fighting, and wou'd not be Taken; no more wou'd
                  <hi rend="italic">Tuscan,</hi> or <hi rend="italic">Imoinda.</hi> But he, more thirsting after Revenge of
               another sort, than that of depriving him of Life, now made use of all his Art of
               talking, and dissembling; and besought <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> to yield himself upon Terms,
               which he himself should propose, and should be Sacredly assented to and kept by him:
               He told him, It was not that he any longer fear'd him, or cou'd believe the force of
               Two Men, and a young Heroin, cou'd overcome all them, with all the Slaves now on
               their side also; but it was the vast Esteem<pb n="201"/> he had for his Person; the
               desire he had to serve so Gallant a Man; and to hinder himself from the Reproach
               hereafter, of having been the occasion of the Death of a <hi rend="italic">Prince,</hi> whose
               Valour and Magnanimity deserv'd the Empire of the World. He protested to him, he
               look'd upon this Action, as Gallant and Brave; however tending to the prejudice of
               his Lord and Master, who wou'd by it have lost so considerable a number of
                  <hi rend="italic">Slaves;</hi> that this Flight of his shou'd be look'd on as a heat of Youth,
               and rashness of a too forward Courage, and an <ref target="unconsidered_" corresp="unconsidered">unconsider'd</ref>
                            <note xml:id="unconsidered" target="unconsidered_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Unpremeditated</note> impatience of Liberty, and
               no more; and that he labour'd in vain to accomplish that which they wou'd effectually
                  perform,<pb n="202"/>as soon as any Ship arriv'd that wou'd <ref target="touch_" corresp="touch">touch on</ref>
                            <note xml:id="touch" target="touch_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Draw near to</note> his Coast. <hi rend="italic">So that if you
                  will be pleas'd,</hi> continued he, <hi rend="italic">to surrender your self, all imaginable
                  Respect shall be paid you; and your Self, your Wife, and Child, if it be here
                  born, shall depart free out of our Land.</hi> But <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> wou'd hear of no
               Composition; though <hi rend="italic">Byam</hi> urg'd, If he persu'd, and went on in his Design, he
               wou'd inevitably Perish, either by great <hi rend="italic">Snakes,</hi> wild Beasts, or Hunger; and
               he ought to have regard to his Wife, whose Condition required ease, and not the
               fatigues of <ref target="tedious_" corresp="tedious">tedious</ref>
                            <note xml:id="tedious" target="tedious_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Tiresome,
                  exhausting</note> Travel; where she cou'd not be secur'd from being devoured. But
                  <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> told him, there was no Faith in the White Men, or the Gods they
                  Ador'd;<pb n="203"/> who instructed 'em in Principles so false, that honest Men
               cou'd not live amongst 'em; though no People profess'd so much, none perform'd so
               little; that he knew what he had to do, when he dealt with Men of Honour; but with
               them a Man ought to be eternally on his Guard, and never to Eat and Drink with
                  <hi rend="italic">Christians</hi> without his Weapon of Defence in his Hand; and, for his own
               Security, never to credit one Word they spoke. As for the rashness and
               inconsiderateness of his Action he wou'd confess the Governor is in the right; and
               that he was asham'd of what he had done, in endeavoring to make those Free, who were
               by Nature <hi rend="italic">Slaves,</hi> poor wretched Rogues, fit to be us'd as<pb n="204"/>
               <hi rend="italic">Christians</hi> Tools; Dogs, treacherous and cowardly, fit for such Masters; and
               they wanted only but to be whipt into the knowledge of the <hi rend="italic">Christian Gods</hi> to
               be the vilest of all creeping things; to learn to Worship such Deities as had not
               Power to make 'em Just, Brave, or Honest. In fine, after a thousand things of this
               Nature, not fit here to be recited, he told <hi rend="italic">Byam,</hi> he had rather Dye than
               Live upon the same Earth with such Dogs. But <hi rend="italic">Trefry</hi> and <hi rend="italic">Byam</hi>
               pleaded and protested together so much, that <hi rend="italic">Trefry</hi> believing the
                  <hi rend="italic">Governor</hi> to mean what he said; and speaking very cordially himself,
               generously put himself into <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi>'s Hands, and took him aside, and
               perswaded him, even with Tears,<pb n="205"/> to Live, by Surrendring himself, and to
               name his Conditions. <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> was overcome by his Wit and Reasons, and in
               consideration of <hi rend="italic">Imoinda;</hi> and demanding what he desir'd, and that it shou'd
               be ratify'd by their Hands in Writing, because he had perceiv'd that was the common
               way of contract between Man and Man, amongst the Whites: All this was perform'd, and
                  <hi rend="italic">Tuscan</hi>'s Pardon was put in, and they Surrender to the Governor, who
               walked peaceably down into the <hi rend="italic">Plantation</hi> with 'em, after giving order to
               bury their dead. <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> was very much toyl'd with the bustle of the Day; for
               he had fought like a <ref target="Fury_" corresp="Fury">Fury</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Fury" target="Fury_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">An allusion to the
                  Furies, three mythical Greek goddesses of vengeance and punishment, best known for
                  punishing those who swear false oaths and, especially, those who kill their own
                  kin.</note>, and what Mischief was done he and <hi rend="italic">Tuscan</hi> perform'd <pb n="206"/>alone; and gave their Enemies a fatal Proof that they durst do any thing,
               and fear'd no mortal Force.</p>

            <p>But they were no sooner arriv'd at the Place, where all the Slaves receive their
               Punishments of Whipping, but they laid Hands on <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> and <hi rend="italic">Tuscan,</hi>
               faint with heat and toyl; and, surprising them, Bound them to two several Stakes, and
               Whipt them in a most deplorable and inhumane Manner, rending the very Flesh from
               their Bones; especially <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> who was not perceiv'd to make any Mone, or
               to alter his Face, only to roul his Eyes on the Faithless <hi rend="italic">Governor,</hi> and
               those he believ'd Guilty, with Fierceness and Indignation; and, to compleat his Rage,
               he <pb n="207"/>saw every one of those <hi rend="italic">Slaves,</hi> who, but a few Davs before,
               Ador'd him as something more than Mortal, now had a Whip to give him some Lashes,
               while he strove not to break his Fetters; though, if he had, it were impossible: But
               he pronounced a Woe and Revenge from his Eyes, that darted Fire, that 'twas at once
               both Awful and Terrible to behold.</p>

            <p>When they thought they were sufficiently Reveng'd on him, they unty'd him, almost
               Fainting, with loss of Blood, from a thousand Wounds all over his Body; from which
               they had rent his Cloaths, and led him Bleeding and Naked as he was; and loaded him
               all over with Irons; and then rubbed his<pb n="208"/> Wounds, to compleat their
               Cruelty, with <hi rend="italic">Indian Pepper,</hi> which had like to have made him raving Mad;
               and, in this Condition, made him so fast to the Ground that he cou'd not stir, if his
               Pains and Wounds wou'd have given him leave. They spar'd <hi rend="italic">Imoinda,</hi> and did
               not let her see this Barbarity committed towards her Lord, but carry'd her down to
                  <hi rend="italic">Parham,</hi> and shut her up; which was not in kindness to her, but for fear
               she shou'd Dye with the Sight, or Miscarry; and then they shou'd loose a young
                  <hi rend="italic">Slave,</hi> and perhaps the Mother.</p>

            <p>You must know, that when the News was brought on Monday Morning, that <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi>
               had betaken himself to the Woods,<pb n="209"/> and carry'd with him all the
                  <hi rend="italic">Negroes.</hi> We were possess'd with extream Fear, which no perswasions cou'd
               Dissipate, that he wou'd secure himself till Night; and then, that he wou'd come down
               and Cut all our Throats. This apprehension made all the Females of us fly down the
               River, to be secur'd; and while we were away, they acted this Cruelty: For I suppose
               I had Authority and Interest enough there, had I suspected any such thing, to have
               prevented it; but we had not gon many Leagues, but the News overtook us that
                  <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> was taken, and Whipt like a common <hi rend="italic">Slave.</hi> We met on the
               River with Colonel <hi rend="italic">Martin,</hi> a Man of great Gallantry, Wit, and<pb n="210"/>Goodness, and whom I have celebrated in a Character of my New <hi rend="italic">Comedy,</hi> by
               his own Name, in memory of so brave a <ref target="Man_" corresp="Man">Man</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Man" target="Man_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Todd notes that a Colonel Marten of the Surinam
                  militia appears in multiple historical accounts of the colony, although the
                  authority under which he was styled colonel is dubious. In contrast to Behn’s
                  positive portrayal, Robert Sanford depicts Marten in Surinam Justice (1662) with
                  many of the negative traits assigned to Byam and other colonists by Behn: he is
                  eager to commit violent acts, cruel, ill-tempered, profane, and “so famous in
                  nothing as his variety of councels: and it seems the whole bulk of Government must
                  dance to the changes of his brain."Colonel Martin indeed appears as a character in
                  Behn's play The Younger Brother, Or, The Amorous Jilt. Behn's self-promotion is
                  premature, however, since the play was not produced until 1696, seven years after
                  her death</note> : He was Wise and Eloquent; and, from the fineness of his Parts,
               bore a great Sway over the Hearts of all the <hi rend="italic">Colony:</hi> He was a Friend to
                  <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> and resented this false Dealing with him very much. We carried
               him back to <hi rend="italic">Parham,</hi> thinking to have made an Accomodation; when we came, the
               First News we heard was, that the <hi rend="italic">Governor</hi> was Dead of a Wound
                  <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> had given him; but it was not so well: But it seems he wou'd have
               the Pleasure of beholding the Revenge he took on <hi rend="italic">Caesar;</hi> and before the
               cruel Ceremony was finish'd, he drop'd<pb n="211"/> down; and then they perceiv'd the
               Wound he had on his Shoulder, was by a venom'd Arrow; which, as I said, his
                  <hi rend="italic">Indian</hi> Mistress heal'd, by Sucking the Wound.</p>

            <p>We were no sooner Arriv'd, but we went up to the <hi rend="italic">Plantation</hi> to see
                  <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> whom we found in a very Miserable and Unexpressable Condition;
               and I have a Thousand times admired how he liv'd, in so much tormenting Pain. We said
               all things to him, that Trouble, Pitty, and Good Nature cou'd suggest; Protesting our
               Innocency of the Fact, and our Abhorance of such Cruelties. Making a Thousand
               Professions of Services to him, and Begging as many Pardons for the Offenders,<pb n="212"/>till we said so much, that he believ'd we had no Hand in his ill
               Treatment; but told us, he cou'd never Pardon <hi rend="italic">Byam;</hi> as for <hi rend="italic">Trefry,</hi>
               he confess'd he saw his Grief and Sorrow, for his Suffering, which he cou'd not
               hinder, but was like to have been beaten down by the very <hi rend="italic">Slaves,</hi> for
               Speaking in his Defence: But for <hi rend="italic">Byam,</hi> who was their Leader, their Head;—and
               shou'd, by his Justice, and Honor, have been an Example to 'em.—For him, he wish'd to
               Live, to take a dire Revenge of him, and said, <hi rend="italic">It had been well for him, if he
                  had Sacrific'd me, instead of giving me the contemptable Whip.</hi> He refus'd to
               Talk much, but Begging us to give him our Hands; he took<pb n="213"/> 'em, and
               Protested never to lift up his, to do us any Harm. He had a great Respect for Colonel
                  <hi rend="italic">Martin,</hi> and always took his Counsel, like that of a Parent; and assur'd
               him, he wou'd obey him in any thing, but his Revenge on <hi rend="italic">Byam. Therefore,</hi>
               said he, <hi rend="italic">for his own Safety, let him speedily dispatch me; for if I cou'd
                  dispatch my self, I wou'd not, till that Justice were done to my injur'd Person,
                  and the contempt of a Souldier: No, I wou'd not kill my self, even after a
                  Whiping, but will be content to live with that Infamy, and be pointed at by every
                  grining Slave, till I have compleated my Revenge; and then you shall see that</hi>
               Oroonoko <hi rend="italic">scorns to live with the Indignity that was put on</hi> Caesar. All we<pb n="214"/> cou'd do cou'd get no more Words from him; and we took care to have him
               put immediately into a healing Bath, to rid him of his Pepper; and order'd a <ref target="Chirurgeon_" corresp="Chirurgeon">Chirurgeon</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Chirurgeon" target="Chirurgeon" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Surgeon</note> to anoint him with
               healing Balm, which he suffer'd, and in some time he began to be able to Walk and
               Eat; we fail'd not to visit him every Day, and, to that end, had him brought to an
                  <ref target="apartment_" corresp="apartment">apartment</ref>
                            <note xml:id="apartment" target="apartment_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">A room in a house designed for
                  the use of a particular person</note> at <hi rend="italic">Parham.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>The <hi rend="italic">Governor</hi> was no sooner recover'd, and had heard of the <ref target="menaces_" corresp="menaces">menaces</ref>
                            <note xml:id="menaces" target="menaces_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Threats</note> of
                  <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> but he call'd his Council; who (not to disgrace them, or <ref target="Burlesque_" corresp="Burlesque">Burlesque</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Burlesque" target="Burlesque_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">To mockingly imitate, deride, or
                  amuse. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> the Government there) consisted of
               such notorious Villains as <ref target="Newgate_" corresp="Newgate">Newgate</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Newgate" target="Newgate_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">The
                  central prison in London</note> never <ref target="transported_" corresp="transported">transported</ref>
                            <note xml:id="transported" target="transported_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Throughout this period, many criminals found
                  guilty of crimes against property in Britain were sentenced by being "transported"
                  or exiled for a period of years to the colonies.</note>; and possibly originally
               were such, who<pb n="215"/> understood neither the Laws of <hi rend="italic">God</hi> or
                  <hi rend="italic">Man;</hi> and had no sort of Principles to make 'em worthy the Name of Men:
               But, at the very Council Table, wou'd Contradict and Fight with one another; and
               Swear so bloodily that 'twas terrible to hear, and see 'em. (Some of 'em were
               afterwards Hang'd, when the <hi rend="italic">Dutch</hi> took possession of the place; others sent
               off in Chains:) But calling these special Rulers of the Nation together, and
               requiring their Counsel in this weighty Affair, they all concluded, that (Damn 'em)
               it might be their own Cases; and that <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> ought to be made an Example to
               all the <hi rend="italic">Negroes,</hi> to fright 'em from daring to threaten their Betters, their
                  Lords<pb n="216"/> and Masters; and, at this rate, no Man was safe from his own
                  <hi rend="italic">Slaves;</hi> and concluded, <ref target="nemine_" corresp="nemine">nemine
                  contradicente</ref>
                            <note xml:id="nemine" target="nemine_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">With no one speaking to the contrary.</note> that
                  <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> shou'd be Hang'd.</p>

            <p>
               <hi rend="italic">Trefry</hi> then thought it time to use his Authority; and told <hi rend="italic">Byam</hi> his
               Command did not extend to his Lord's <hi rend="italic">Plantation;</hi> and that <hi rend="italic">Parham</hi>
               was as much exempt from the Law as <ref target="White-hall_" corresp="White-hall">White-hall;</ref>
                            <note xml:id="White-hall" target="White-hall_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Offices of government in Whitehall, London.
                  Trefry's implication is that Byam, although governor of Surinam, remains as
                  subordinate to the King as any civil servant back in Great Britain.</note> and
               that they ought no more to touch the Servants of the Lord—(who there represented the
               King's Person) than they cou'd those about the King himself; and that <hi rend="italic">Parham</hi>
               was a Sanctuary; and though his Lord were absent in Person, his Power was still in
               Being there; which he had intrusted with him, as far as the Dominions of his
                  particular<pb n="217"/>
               <hi rend="italic">Plantations</hi> reach'd, and all that belong'd to it; the rest of the
                  <hi rend="italic">Country,</hi> as <hi rend="italic">Byam</hi> was Lieutenant to his Lord, he might exercise
               his Tyrany upon. <hi rend="italic">Trefry</hi> had others as powerful, or more, that int'rested
               themselves in <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi>'s Life, and absolutely said, He shou'd be Defended. So
               turning the <hi rend="italic">Governor,</hi> and his wise Council, out of Doors, (for they sate at
                  <hi rend="italic">Parham-house)</hi> they set a Guard upon our Landing Place, and wou'd admit
               none but those we call'd Friends to us and <hi rend="italic">Caesar.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>The <hi rend="italic">Governor</hi> having remain'd wounded at <hi rend="italic">Parham,</hi> till his recovery
               was compleated, <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> did not know but he was still there; and indeed, for
               the most part, his time was spent there;<pb n="218"/> for he was one that lov'd to
               Live at other Peoples Expence; and if he were a Day absent, he was Ten present there;
               and us'd to Play, and Walk, and Hunt, and Fish, with <hi rend="italic">Caesar.</hi> So that
                  <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> did not at all doubt, if he once recover'd Strength, but he shou'd
               find an opportunity of being Reveng'd on him: Though, after such a Revenge, he cou'd
               not hope to Live; for if he escap'd the Fury of the <hi rend="italic">English</hi>
               <ref target="Mobile_" corresp="Mobile">Mobile</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Mobile" target="Mobile_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">The mob, the rabble; the common
                  people, the populace. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>, who perhaps wou'd
               have been glad of the occasion to have kill'd him, he was resolv'd not to survive his
               Whiping; yet he had, some tender Hours, a repenting Softness, which he called his
               fits of Coward; wherein he struggl'd with Love for the Victory of his Heart,<pb n="219"/> which took part with his charming <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> there; but, for the
               most part, his time was past in melancholy Thought, and black Designs; he consider'd,
               if he shou'd do this Deed, and Dye, either in the Attempt, or after it, he left his
               lovely <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> a Prey, or at best a <hi rend="italic">Slave,</hi> to the inrag'd
               Multitude; his great Heart cou'd not indure that Thought. <hi rend="italic">Perhaps,</hi> said he,
                  <hi rend="italic">she may be first Ravished by every Brute; exposed first to their nasty Lusts,
                  and then a shameful Death.</hi> No; he could not Live a Moment under that
               Apprehension, too insupportable to be born. These were his Thoughts, and his silent
               Arguments with his Heart, as he told us afterwards; so that now resolving not only<pb n="220"/> to kill <hi rend="italic">Byam,</hi> but all those he thought had inrag'd him;
               pleasing his great Heart with the fancy'd Slaughter he shou'd make over the whole
               Face of the <hi rend="italic">Plantation.</hi> He first resolv'd on a Deed, that (however Horrid it
               at first appear'd to us all) when we had heard his Reasons, we thought it Brave and
               Just: Being able to Walk, and, as he believ'd, fit for the Execution of his great
               Design, he beg'd <hi rend="italic">Trefry</hi> to trust him into the Air, believing a Walk wou'd do
               him good; which was granted him, and taking <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> with him, as he us'd to
               do in his more happy and calmer Days, he led her up into a Wood, where, after (with a
               thousand Sighs, and long Gazing silently on her Face, while<pb n="221"/> Tears gust,
               in spight of him, from his Eyes) he told her his Design first of Killing her, and
               then his Enemies, and next himself, and the impossibility of Escaping, and therefore
               he told her the necessity of Dying; he found the Heroick Wife faster pleading for
               Death than he was to propose it, when she found his fix'd Resolution; and, on her
               Knees, besought him, not to leave her a Prey to his Enemies. He (griev'd to Death)
               yet pleased at her noble Resolution, took her up, and imbracing her, with all the
               Passion and Languishment of a dying Lover, drew his Knife to kill this Treasure of
               his Soul, this Pleasure of his Eyes; while Tears trickl'd down his Cheeks, hers were
               Smiling with Joy she <pb n="222"/> shou'd dye by so noble a Hand, and be sent in her
               own Country, (for that's their Notion of the next World) by him she so tenderly
               Lov'd, and so truly Ador'd in this; for Wives have a respect for their Husbands equal
               to what any other People pay a Deity; and when a Man finds any occasion to quit his
               Wife, if he love her, she dyes by his Hand; if not, he sells her, or suffers some
               other to kill her. It being thus; you may believe the Deed was soon resolv'd on; and
               'tis not to be doubted, but the Parting, the eternal Leave taking of Two such Lovers,
               so greatly Born, so <ref target="Sensible_" corresp="Sensible">Sensible</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Sensible" target="Sensible_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Capable of delicate or tender feeling. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>,
               so Beautiful, so Young, and so Fond, must be very Moving, as the Relation of it was
               to me afterwards.</p>

            <p>
               <pb n="223"/> All that Love cou'd say in such cases, being ended; and all the
               intermitting Irresolutions being adjusted, the Lovely, Young, and Ador'd Victim lays
               her self down, before the Sacrificer; while he, with a Hand resolv'd, and a Heart
               breaking within, gave the Fatal Stroke; first, cutting her Throat, and then severing
               her, yet Smiling, Face from that Delicate Body, pregnant as it was with Fruits of
               tend' rest Love. As soon as he had done, he laid the Body decently on Leaves and
               Flowers; of which he made a Bed, and conceal'd it under the same <ref target="cover-lid_" corresp="cover-lid">cover-lid</ref>
                            <note xml:id="cover-lid" target="cover-lid_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Coverlet, blanket</note> of Nature; only her Face
               he left yet bare to look on: But when he found she was Dead, and past all Retrieve,
               never more<pb n="224"/> to bless him with her Eyes, and soft Language; his Grief
               swell'd up to Rage; he Tore, he Rav'd he Roar'd, like some Monster of the Wood,
               calling on the lov'd Name of <hi rend="italic">Imoinda;</hi> a thousand times he turn'd the Fatal
               Knife that did the Deed, toward his own Heart, with a Resolution to go immediately
               after her; but dire Revenge, which now was a thousand times more fierce in his Soul
               than before, prevents him; and he wou'd cry out, <hi rend="italic">No; since I have sacrificed</hi>
               Imoinda <hi rend="italic">to my Revenge, shall I loose that Glory which I have purchas'd so dear,
                  as at the Price of the fairest, dearest, softest Creature that ever Nature made?
                  No, no!</hi> Then, at her Name, Grief wou'd get the ascendant of Rage, and he
                  wou'd<pb n="225"/> lye down by her side, and water her Face with showers of Tears,
               which never were wont to fall from those Eyes: And however bent he was on his
               intended Slaughter, he had not power to stir from the Sight of this dear Object, now
               more Belov'd, and more Ador'd than ever.</p>

            <p>He remain'd in this deploring Condition for two Days, and never rose from the Ground
               where he had made his sad Sacrifice; at last, rousing from her side, and accusing
               himself with living too long, now <hi rend="italic">Imoinda</hi> was dead; and that the Deaths of
               those barbarous Enemies were deferr'd too long, he resolv'd now to finish the great
               Work; but offering to rise, he found his Strength so decay'd,<pb n="226"/> that he
               reel'd to and fro, like Boughs assail'd by contrary Winds; so that he was forced to
               lye down again, and try to summons all his Courage to his Aid; he found his Brains
               turn round, and his Eyes were dizzy; and Objects appear'd not the same to him they
               were wont to do; his Breath was short; and all his Limbs surprised with a Faintness
               he had never felt before: He had not Eat in two Days, which was one occasion of this
               Feebleness, but excess of Grief was the greatest; yet still he hop'd he shou'd
               recover Vigour to act his Design; and lay expecting it yet six Days longer; still
               mourning over the dead Idol of his Heart, and striving every Day to rise, but cou'd
               not.</p>

            <p>
               <pb n="227"/> In all this time you may believe we were in no little affliction for
                  <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> and his Wife; some were of Opinion he was escap'd never to
               return; others thought some Accident had hap'ned to him: But however, we fail'd not
               to send out an hundred People several ways to search for him; a Party, of about
               forty, went that way he took; among whom was <hi rend="italic">Tuscan,</hi> who was perfectly
               reconcil'd to <hi rend="italic">Byam;</hi> they had not gon very far into the Wood, but they smelt
               an unusual Smell, as of a dead Body; for Stinks must be very noisom that can be
               distinguish'd among such a quantity of Natural Sweets, as every Inch of that Land
               produces. So that they concluded they shou'd find him dead, or somebody that<pb n="228"/> was so; they past on towards it, as Loathsom as it was, and made such a
               rusling among the Leaves that lye thick on the Ground, by continual Falling, that
                  <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> heard he was approach'd; and though he had, during the space of
               these eight Days, endeavor'd to rise, but found he wanted Strength, yet looking up,
               and seeing his Pursuers, he rose, and reel'd to a Neighbouring Tree, against which he
               fix'd his Back; and being within a dozen Yards of those that advanc'd, and saw him;
               he call'd out to them, and bid them approach no nearer, if they wou'd be safe: So
               that they stood still, and hardly believing their Eyes, that wou'd perswade them that
               it was <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> that spoke to 'em, so much was he alter'd; <pb n="229"/>they
               ask'd him, What he had done with his Wife? for they smelt a Stink that almost struck
               them dead. He, pointing to the dead Body, sighing, cry'd, <hi rend="italic">Behold her there;</hi>
               they put off the Flowers that cover'd her with their Sticks, and found she was
               kill'd; and cry'd out, <hi rend="italic">Oh Monster! that hast murther'd thy Wife:</hi> Then asking
               him, Why he did so cruel a Deed? He replied, he had no leasure to answer impertinent
               Questions; <hi rend="italic">You may go back,</hi> continued he, <hi rend="italic">and tell the Faithless
                  Governor, he may thank Fortune that I am breathing my last; and that my Arm is too
                  feeble to obey my Heart, in what it had design'd him:</hi> But his Tongue
               faultering, and trembling, he cou'd scarce end what he was saying. The <pb n="230"/>
                            <hi rend="italic">English</hi> taking Advantage by his Weakness, cry'd, <hi rend="italic">Let us take him
                  alive by all means:</hi> He heard 'em; and, as if he had reviv'd from a Fainting,
               or a Dream, he cry'd out, <hi rend="italic">No, Gentlemen, you are deceiv'd; you will find no
                  more</hi> Caesars <hi rend="italic">to be Whipt; no more find a Faith in me: Feeble as you think
                  me, I have Strength yet left to secure me from a second Indignity.</hi> They swore
               all a-new, and he only shook his Head, and beheld them with Scorn; then they cry'd
               out, <hi rend="italic">Who will venture on this single Man? Will no body?</hi> They stood all
               silent while <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> replied, <hi rend="italic">Fatal will be the Attempt to the first
                  Adventurer; let him assure himself,</hi> and, at that Word, held up his Knife in a
               menacing Posture, <hi rend="italic">Look ye, ye faithless Crew,</hi> said he,<pb n="231"/>
               <hi rend="italic">'tis not Life I seek, nor am I afraid of Dying;</hi> and, at that Word, cut a
               piece of Flesh from his own Throat, and threw it at 'em, <hi rend="italic">yet still I wou'd Live
                  if I cou'd, till I had perfected my Revenge. But oh! it cannot be; I feel Life
                  gliding from my Eyes and Heart; and, if I make not haste, I shall yet fall a
                  Victim to the shameful Whip.</hi> At that, he rip'd up his own Belly; and took his
               Bowels and pull'd 'em out, with what Strength he cou'd; while some, on their Knees
               imploring, besought him to hold his Hand. But when they saw him tottering, they cry'd
               out, <hi rend="italic">Will none venture on him?</hi> A bold <hi rend="italic">English</hi> cry'd, <hi rend="italic">Yes, if he
                  were the Devil;</hi> (taking Courage when he saw him almost Dead) and swearing a
               horrid Oath for his farewell<pb n="232"/> to the World; he rush'd on <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi>
               with his Arm'd Hand met him so fairly, as stuck him to the Heart, and he fell Dead at
               his Feet. <hi rend="italic">Tuscan</hi> seeing that, cry'd out, <hi rend="italic">I love thee, oh</hi> Caesar;
                  <hi rend="italic">and therefore will not let thee Dye, if possible:</hi> And, running to him,
               took him in his Arms; but, at the same time, warding a Blow that <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> made
               at his Bosom, he receiv'd it quite through his Arm; and <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> having not
               the Strength to pluck the Knife forth, though he attempted it, <hi rend="italic">Tuscan</hi>
               neither pull'd it out himself, nor suffer'd it to be pull'd out; but came down with
               it sticking in his Arm; and the reason he gave for it was, because the Air shou'd not
               get into the Wound: They put their Hands a-cross, and carried<pb n="233"/>
               <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> between Six of 'em, fainted as he was; and they thought Dead, or just
               Dying; and they brought him to <hi rend="italic">Parham,</hi> and laid him on a Couch, and had the
               Chirurgeon immediately to him, who drest his Wounds, and sow'd up his Belly, and us'd
               means to bring him to Life, which they effected. We ran all to see him; and, if
               before we thought him so beautiful a Sight, he was now so alter'd, that his Face was
               like a Death's Head black'd over; nothing but Teeth, and Eyeholes: For some Days we
               suffer'd no body to speak to him, but caused Cordials to be poured down his Throat,
               which sustained his Life; and in six or seven Days he recover'd his Senses: For, you
               must know, that <pb n="234"/> Wounds are almost to a Miracle cur'd in the
                  <hi rend="italic">Indies;</hi> unless Wounds in the Legs, which rarely ever cure.</p>

            <p>When he was well enough to speak, we talk'd to him; and ask'd him some Questions
               about his Wife, and the Reasons why he kill'd her; and he then told us what I have
               related of that Resolution, and of his Parting; and he besought us, we would let him
               Dye, and was extreamly Afflicted to think it was possible he might Live; he assur'd
               us, if we did not Dispatch him, he wou'd prove very Fatal to a great many. We said
               all we cou'd to make him Live, and gave him new Assurances; but he begg'd we wou'd
               not think so poorly of him, or of his love to <hi rend="italic">Imoinda,</hi> to <pb n="235"/>imagine we cou'd Flatter him to Life again; but the Chirurgeon assur'd him, he
               cou'd not Live, and therefore he need not Fear. We were all (but <hi rend="italic">Caesar)</hi>
               afflicted at this News; and the Sight was <ref target="gashly_" corresp="gashly">gashly</ref>
                            <note xml:id="gashly" target="gashly_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Ghastly</note>; his Discourse was sad; and the
               earthly Smell about him so strong, that I was perswaded to leave the Place for some
               time; (being my self-but Sickly, and very apt to fall into Fits of dangerous Illness
               upon any extraordinary Melancholy) the Servants, and <hi rend="italic">Trefry,</hi> and the
               Chirurgeons, promis'd all to take what possible care they cou'd of the Life of
                  <hi rend="italic">Caesar;</hi> and I, taking Boat, went with other Company to Colonel
                  <hi rend="italic">Martin</hi>'s, about three Days Journy down the River; but I was no sooner
               gon, but the<pb n="236"/>
               <hi rend="italic">Governor</hi> taking <hi rend="italic">Trefry,</hi> about some pretended earnest Business, a
               Days Journy up the River; having communicated his Design to one <hi rend="italic">Banister,</hi> a
               wild <hi rend="italic">Irish</hi>
               <ref target="Banister_" corresp="Banister">Man</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Banister" target="Banister_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#UVAstudstaff">Major James Bannister was
                  responsible for negotiating with the Dutch when England ceded Surinam in 1667.
                  According to Todd, in 1671, he led “about a hundred families to Jamaica where he
                  joined forces with governor Sir Thomas Lynch who was trying to suppress a rival,
                  backed by other ex-Surinam settlers” (Saunders Webb, 97). Bannister then became
                  major-general of Jamaica. Bannister was killed in 1673 by Mr. Burford, a
                  surveyor-general, who was then hanged.</note>, and one of the Council; a Fellow of
               absolute Barbarity, and fit to execute any Villany, but was Rich. He came up to
                  <hi rend="italic">Parham,</hi> and forcibly took <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> and had him carried to the
               same Post where he was Whip'd; and causing him to be ty'd to it, and a great Fire
               made before him, he told him, he shou'd Dye like a Dog, as he was. <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi>
               replied, this was the first piece of Bravery that ever <hi rend="italic">Banister</hi> did; and he
               never spoke Sence till he pronounc'd that Word; and, if he wou'd keep it, he wou'd
               declare, in the other World, that he was<pb n="237"/> the only Man, of all the
               Whites, that ever he heard speak Truth. And turning to the Men that bound him, he
               said, <hi rend="italic">My Friends, am I to Dye, or to be Whip'd?</hi> And they cry'd, <hi rend="italic">Whip'd!
                  no; you shall not escape so well:</hi> And then he replied, smiling, <hi rend="italic">A
                  Blessing on thee;</hi> and assur'd them, they need not tye him, for he wou'd stand
               fixt, like a Rock; and indure Death so as shou'd encourage them to Dye. <hi rend="italic">But if
                  you Whip me,</hi> said he, <hi rend="italic">be sure you tye me fast.</hi>
            </p>

            <p>He had learn'd to take Tobaco; and when he was assur'd he should Dye, he desir'd they
               would give him a Pipe in his Mouth, ready Lighted, which they did; and the
               Executioner came, and first cut off his Members,<pb n="238"/> and threw them into the
               Fire; after that, with an ill-favoured Knife, they cut his Ears, and his Nose, and
               burn'd them; he still Smoak'd on, as if nothing had touch'd him; then they hack'd off
               one of his Arms, and still he bore up, and held his Pipe; but at the cutting off the
               other Arm, his Head sunk, and his Pipe drop'd; and he gave up the Ghost, without a
               Groan, or a Reproach. My Mother and Sister were by him all the while, but not
               suffer'd to save him; so rude and wild were the Rabble, and so inhumane were the
               Justices, who stood by to see the Execution, who after paid dearly enough for their
               Insolence. They cut <hi rend="italic">Caesar</hi> in Quarters, and sent them to several of the
                  chief<pb n="239"/>
                            <hi rend="italic">Plantations:</hi> One Quarter was sent to Colonel
                  <hi rend="italic">Martin,</hi> who refus'd it; and swore, he had rather see the Quarters of
                  <hi rend="italic">Banister,</hi> and the <hi rend="italic">Governor</hi> himself, than those of
                  <hi rend="italic">Caesar,</hi> on his <hi rend="italic">Plantations;</hi> and that he cou'd govern his
                  <hi rend="italic">Negroes</hi> without Terrifying and Grieving them with frightful Spectacles of
               a mangl'd King.</p>

            <p>Thus Dy'd this Great Man; worthy of a better Fate, and a more sublime Wit than mine
               to write his Praise; yet, I hope, the Reputation of my Pen is considerable enough to
               make his Glorious Name to survive to all Ages; with that of the Brave, the Beautiful,
               and the Constant <hi rend="italic">Imoinda.</hi>
            </p>

            <trailer>FINIS.</trailer>
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                  <title>"Old England"</title>
                  <author>
                     <name>
                        <forename>Claude</forename>
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               </analytic>
               <monogr>
                  
                  <title>Songs of Jamaica</title>
                  <imprint>
                     <pubPlace>
                        <placeName type="tgn" key="7018589">Kingston, Jamaica [and London,
                           England]</placeName>
                     </pubPlace>
                     <publisher>Aston W. Gardner &amp; Co.</publisher>
                     <date when="1912">1912</date>
                     <note>For a complete digital edition of McKay's poetry with editoral
                        discussion, including <hi rend="italic">Songs of Jamaica</hi>, see Amardeep
                        Singh's <hi rend="italic">
                                            <ref target="https://scalar.lehigh.edu/mckay/index">Claude McKay's Early
                              Poetry (1911-1922): A Digital Collection</ref>
                                        </hi>.</note>
                     <note>Facsimile page images sourced from <ref target="https://www.dloc.com/AA00011909/00001/citation">Digital Library
                           of the Caribbean</ref>. This digital edition has been transcribed and
                        corrected to accord with the first edition facsimile page images.</note>
                  </imprint>

                  <extent>140 pages : portrait ; 19 cm</extent>
                  <biblScope>pp 63-65</biblScope>
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         <pb n="[TP]" facs="pageImages/tp.jpeg"/>

         <titlePage>
            <titlePart> SONGS OF JAMAICA<lb/>
                            <lb/>BY<lb/>
               <docAuthor>CLAUDE MCKAY</docAuthor>
                            <lb/>
                            <lb/> WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY WALTER
               JEKYLL<lb/> AUTHOR OF "JAMAICAN SONG AND STORY"<lb/>
                            <lb/>
               <pubPlace>KINGSTON, JAMIACA</pubPlace>
                            <lb/>
               <publisher>ASTON W. GARDNER &amp; CO.</publisher>
                            <lb/>
               <pubPlace>LONDON</pubPlace>
                            <lb/>
               <publisher>JAMAICA AGENCY<lb/> GAMAGE BUILDING, HOLBORN</publisher>
                            <lb/>
               <pubDate>1912</pubDate>
                        </titlePart>
         </titlePage>

      </front>
      <body>
         <pb n="63" facs="pageImages/00063.jpeg"/>
         <div>
            <head type="title">Old England</head>
            <lg n="1">
               <l>I'VE a longin' in me dept's of heart dat I can conquer not,</l>
               <l>'Tis a wish dat I've been havin' from since I could form a <ref target="t-o-t_" corresp="t-o-t">t'o't</ref>
                                <note xml:id="t-o-t" target="t-o-t_" type="gloss">Thought. [Jekyll's note]</note>,</l>
               <l>'Tis to sail athwart the ocean an' to hear de billows roar,</l>
               <l>When dem ride aroun' de steamer, when dem beat on <placeName type="tgn" key="7002445">England</placeName>'s shore. </l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <l>Just to view de homeland England, in de streets of <placeName key="7011781" type="tgn">London</placeName> walk,</l>
               <l>An' to see de famous sights dem 'bouten which dere's so much talk,</l>
               <l>An' to watch de fact'ry chimneys pourin' smoke up to de sky, </l>
               <l>An' to see de matches-children, dat I hear 'bout, passin' by. </l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <l>I would see <placeName type="tgn" key="1100093">Saint Paul's
                  Cathedral</placeName>, an' would hear some of de great</l>
               <l>Learnin' comin' from de bishops, preachin' relics of old fait';</l>
               <pb n="64" facs="pageImages/00064.jpeg"/>
               <l>I would ope me mout' wid wonder at de massive organ soun',</l>
               <l>An' would 'train me eyes to see de beauty lyin' all aroun'. </l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <l>I'd go to de <ref target="city_temple_" corresp="city_temple">City
                     Temple</ref>
                                <note xml:id="city_temple" target="city_temple_" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">The City Temple is a nonconformist church (a church that
                     doesn't "conform" to Church of England practices) in central London, built in
                     1874; however, its congregation is believed to have been in existence since
                     perhaps the 1560s (<ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/City_Temple,_London">Wikipedia</ref>).</note>, where de 'old fait' is a wreck,</l>
               <l>An' de parson is a-preachin' views dat most folks will not tek; </l>
               <l>I'd go where de men of science meet togeder in deir hall,</l>
               <l>To give light unto de real truths, to obey king Reason's call. </l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <l>I would view <placeName type="tgn" key="1100068">Westminster Abbey</placeName>,
                  where de great of England sleep,</l>
               <l>An' de solemn marble statues o'er deir ashes vigil keep;</l>
               <l>I would see immortal <persName type="lcnaf" key="n78095532">Milton</persName> an'
                  de wul'-famous <persName type="lcnaf" key="n78095332">Shakespeare</persName>, </l>
               <l>Past'ral <persName type="lcnaf" key="n79006595">Wordswort'</persName>, gentle
                     <persName type="lcnaf" key="n79089789">Gray</persName>, an' all de great souls
                  buried dere. </l>
            </lg>
            <lg>
               <l>I would see de ancient chair where England's kings deir crowns put on,</l>
               <l>Soon to lay dem by again when all de vanity is done;</l>
               <l>An' I'd go to view de lone spot where in peaceful solitude </l>
               <l>Rests de body of our <ref target="missis_" corresp="missis">Missis
                     Queen</ref>
                                <note xml:id="missis" target="missis_" type="gloss">Always so called
                     in Jamaica. [Jekyll's note]</note>,<persName key="n79017983" type="lcnaf">Victoria de Good</persName>.</l>
            </lg>
            <pb n="65" facs="pageImages/00065.jpeg"/>
            <lg>
               <l>An' dese places dat I sing of now shall afterwards impart</l>
               <l>All deir solemn sacred beauty to a weary searchin' heart;</l>
               <l>So I'll rest glad an' contented in me <ref target="min_" corresp="min">min'</ref>
                                <note xml:id="min" target="min_" type="gloss">Mind. [Jekyll's
                     note]</note> for evermore,</l>
               <l>When I sail across de ocean back to my own native shore. </l>
            </lg>

         </div>
      </body>
   </text>
</TEI>
    </works>
</coursepack>