section 23 of Captain Singleton. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Dennis Sayers. The Life Adventures and Piracies of the Famous Captain Singleton by Daniel Defoe. Section 23. This perfectly confounded us, and we now concluded the Indians in the tree had, by this piece of negligence, taken the opportunity and come all down the ladder, made their escape, and had carried away the ladder with them. I laughed most heartily at my friend William, who, as I said, had the direction of the siege, and had set up a ladder for the garrison, as we called them, to get down upon and run away. But when daylight came, we were all set to rights again, for there stood our ladder, hauled up on the top of the tree, with about half of it in the hollow of the tree, and the other half upright in the air. Then we began to laugh at the Indians' four fools, that they could not as well have found their way down by the ladder, and have made their escape, as to have pulled it up by main strength into the tree. We then resolved upon fire, and so to put an end to the work at once, and burned the tree and its inhabitants together, and, accordingly, we went to work to cut wood, and in a few hours' time we got enough, as we thought, together. And piling it up around the bottom of the tree, we set it on fire, waiting at a distance to see when, the gentleman's quarters being too hot for them, they would come flying out at the top. But we were quite confounded when, on a sudden, we found the fire all put out by a great quantity of water thrown upon it. We then thought the devil must be in them, to be sure, says William. This is certainly the cunningest piece of Indian engineering that ever was heard of, and there can be but one thing more to guess at, besides witchcraft and dealing with the devil, which I believe not one word of, says he. And that must be that this is an artificial tree, or a natural tree artificially made hollow down into the earth, through root and all, and that these creatures have an artificial cavity underneath it, quite into the hill, or a way to go through and under the hill to some other place. And where that other place is, we know not. But if it be not our own fault, I'll find the place, and follow them into it, before I am two days older. He then called the carpenters to know of them if they had any large saws that would cut through the body. And they told him they had no saws that were long enough, nor could men work into such a monstrous old stump in a great while, but that they would go to work with it, with their axes, and undertake to cut it down in two days, and stock up the root of it in two more. But William was for another way, which proved much better than all this, for he was for silent work that, if possible, he might catch some of the fellows in it. So he sets twelve men to it with large augers, to bore great holes into the side of the tree, to go almost through, but not quite through. Which holes were bored without noise, and when they were done, he filled them with gunpowder, stopping strong plugs, bolted crossways into the holes, and then boring a slanting hole of a less size, down into the greater hole, all of which were filled with powder, and at once, blown up. When they took fire, they made such a noise, and tore and split up the tree in so many places, and in such a manner that we could see plainly such another blast would demolish it. And so it did. Thus at the second time we could, at two or three places, put our hands in them, and discovered a cheat, namely that there was a cave or hole dug into the earth, from or through the bottom of the hollow, and that it had communication with another cave farther in, where we heard the voices of several of the wild folks calling and talking to one another. When we came thus far we had a great mind to get at them, and William desired that three men might be given him with hand-granados, and he promised to go down first, and boldly he did so, for William, to give him his due, had the heart of a lion. They had pistols in their hands, and swords by their sides, but as they had taught the Indians before by their stink pots, the Indians returned them in their own kind, for they made such a smoke come up out of the entrance into the cave or hollow, that William and his three men were glad to come running out of the cave and out of the tree too, for mere want of breath, and indeed they were almost stifled. Never was a fortification so well defended, or assailants so many ways, defeated. We were now forgiving it over, and particularly I called William, and told him I could not but laugh to see us spinning out our time here for nothing, that it could not imagine what we were doing, that it was certain that the rogues that were in it were cunning to the last degree, and it would vex anybody to be so balked by a few naked ignorant fellows, but still it was not worth our while to push it any further, nor was there anything that I knew of to be got by the conquest when it was made, so that I thought at high time to give it over. William acknowledged what I said was just, and that there was nothing but our curiosity to be gratified in this attempt, and though, as he said, he was very desirous to have searched into the thing, yet he would not insist upon it, so we resolved to quit it and come away, which we did. However, William said before he went he would have this satisfaction of them, this to burn down the tree and stop up the entrance into the cave, and while doing this the gunner told him he would have one satisfaction of the rogues, and this was that he would make a mine of it and see which way it had vent. Upon this he fetched two barrels of powder out of the ships, and placed them in the inside of the hollow of the cave, as far in as he durced go to carry them, and then filling up the mouth of the cave where the tree stood, and ramming it sufficiently hard, leaving only a pipe or touch hole, he gave fire to it, and stood at a distance to see which way it would operate. When on a sudden he found the force of the powder burst its way out among some bushes, on the other side the little hill I mentioned, and that it came roaring out there as out of the mouth of a cannon. Immediately running thither we saw the effects of the powder. First we saw that there was the other mouth of the cave, which the powder had so torn and opened, that the loose earth was so fallen in again that nothing of shape could be discerned, but there we saw what was become of the garrison of the Indians too, who had given us all this trouble, for some of them had no arms, some no legs, some no head, some lay half buried in the rubbish of the mine, that is to say, in the loose earth that fell in, and in short there was a miserable havoc made in them all, for we had good reason to believe not one of them that were in the inside could escape, but rather were shot out of the mouth of the cave like a bullet out of a gun. We had now our full satisfaction of the Indians, but in short this was a losing voyage, for we had two men killed, one quite crippled, and five more wounded. We spent two barrels of powder, and eleven days time, and all to get the understanding how to make an Indian mine, or how to keep garrison in a hollow tree, and with this wit, but at this dear price, we came away, having taken in some fresh water, but got no fresh provisions. We then considered what we should do to get back again to Madagascar. We were much about the latitude of the Cape of Good Hope, but had such a very long run, and were neither sure of meeting with fair winds nor with any land in the way that we knew not what to think of it. William was our last resort, in this case, again, and he was very plain with us. Friend, says he too, Captain Wilmot, what occasion has thou to run the venture of starving, merely for the pleasure of saying thou has been where nobody has been before? There are a great many places nearer home, of which thou mayst say the same thing at less expense. I see no occasion thou hast of keeping thus far south any longer, then till you are sure you are to the west end of Java and Sumatra, and then thou mayst stand away north toward Salon, and the coast of Coromandel and Madras, where thou mayst get both fresh water and fresh provisions, and to that part it is likely we may hold out well enough with the stores we have already. This was wholesome advice, and such as was not to be slighted. So we stood away to the west, keeping between the latitude of 31 and 35, and had very good weather and fair winds for about ten days sail, by which time, by our reckoning, we were clear of the aisles and might run away to the north. And if we did not fall in with Salon, we should at least go into the great deep bay of Bengal. But we were out in our reckoning a great deal, for when we had stood due north for about 15 or 16 degrees, we met with land again on our starboard bow, about three leagues distance. So we came to an anchor about half a league from it, and manned out our boats to see what sort of a country it was. We found it a very good one, fresh water easy to come at, but no cattle that we could see, or inhabitants, and we were very shy of searching too far after them, lest we should make such another journey as we did last, so that we let rambling alone, and chose rather to take what we could find, which was only a few wild mangoes, and some plants of several kinds, which we knew not the names of. We made no stay here, but put to sea again, northwest by north, but had little win for a fortnight more, when we made land again. And standing in with the shore, we were surprised to find ourselves on the south shore of Java, and just as we were coming to an anchor, we saw a boat carrying Dutch colors sailing along shore. We were not solicitous to speak with them, or any other of their nation, but left it indifferent to our people, when they went on shore, to see the Dutchmen, or not to see them. Our business was to get provisions, which indeed by this time were very short with us. We resolved to go on shore with our boats in the most convenient place we could find, and to look out a proper harbor to bring the ship into, leaving it to our fate whether we should meet with friends or enemies. Resolving, however, not to stay any considerable time, at least not long enough to have expresses sent across the island, to Batavia, and for ships to come round from thence to attack us. We found, according to our desire, a very good harbor, where we rode in seven fathom water, well defended from the weather, whatever might happen. And here we got fresh provisions, such as good hogs and some cows, and that we might lay in a little store. We killed sixteen cows, and pickled and barreled up the flesh, as well as we could be supposed to do in the latitude of eight degrees from the line. We did all this in about five days, and filled our kests with water, and the last boat was coming off with herbs and roots. We being unmoored, and our four topsil, loose for sailing, when we spied a large ship to the northward, bearing down directly upon us. We knew not what she might be, but concluded the worst, and made all possible haste to get our anchor up, and get under sail, and that we might be in readiness to see what she had to say to us, for we were under no great concern for one ship, but our notion was that we should be attacked by three or four together.  They had, it seems, quite mistaken us before, expecting nothing of an enemy or pirate in those seas, and not doubting, but we had been one of their own ships. They seemed to be in some confusion when they found their mistake, so they immediately hauled upon a wind on the other tack, and stood edging in for the shore towards the eastern most part of the island. Upon this we tacked, and soon after him, with all the sail we could, and in two hours came almost within gunshot. Though they crowded all the sail they could lay on, there was no remedy but to engage us, and they soon saw their inequality of force. We fired a gun for them to bring two, so they manned out their boat, and sent to us with a flag of truce. We sent back the boat, but with this answered to the captain, that we had nothing to do but to strike, and bring his ship to an anchor under our stern, and come on board us himself when he should know our demands. But that, however, since he had not yet put us to the trouble of forcing him, which we saw we were able to do, we assured them that the captain should return again in safety, and all his men, and that supplying us with such things as we should demand, his ship should not be plundered. They went back with this message, and it was some time after they were on board, before they struck, which made us begin to think, they refused it. So we fired a shot, and in a few minutes more we perceived their boat put off, and as soon as the boat put off the ship struck, and came to an anchor, as was directed. When the captain came on board, we demanded an account of their cargo, which was, chiefly, bails of goods from Bengal for Bantam. We told them our present want was provisions, which they had no need of, being just at the end of their voyage, and that if they would send their boat on shore with ours, and procure us six and twenty head of black cattle, three score hogs, a quantity of brandy, and Eric, and three hundred bushels of rice, we would let them go free. As to the rice, they gave us six hundred bushels, which they had actually on board, together with a parcel shipped upon freight. Also they gave us thirty middling casts, a very good Eric, but beef and pork they had none. However, they went on shore with our men, and bought eleven bullocks and fifty hogs, which were pickled up for our occasion, and upon the supplies of provision from shore, we dismissed them and their ship. We lay here several days before we could furnish ourselves with the provisions agreed for, and some of the men fancied the Dutchmen were contriving our destruction, but they were very honest and did what they could to furnish the black cattle, but found it impossible to supply so many. So they came and told us, ingenuously, that unless we could stay a while longer, they could get no more oxen or cows than those eleven, with which we were obliged to be satisfied, taking the value of them in other things, rather than stay longer there. On our side we were punctual with them in observing the conditions we had agreed on, nor would we let any of our men so much as go on board them, or suffer any of their men to come on board us, for had any of our men gone on board, nobody could have answered for their behavior any more than if they had been on shore in an enemy's country. We were now victualed for our voyage, and as we mattered not purchase, we went merrily on for the coast of Salon, where we intended to touch, to get fresh water again, and more provisions, and we had nothing material offered in this part of the voyage, only that we met with contrary winds, and were above a month in the passage. We put in upon the south coast of the island, desiring to have as little to do with the Dutch as we could, and as the Dutch were lords of the country as to commerce, so they are more so of the sea coast, where they have several forts, and in particular, have all the cinnamon, which is the trade of that island. We took in fresh water here, and some provisions, but did not much trouble ourselves about laying in any stores. Our beef and hogs, which we got at Java, being not yet all gone by a great deal. We had a little skirmish on shore here with some of the people of the island, some of our men having been a little too familiar with the homely ladies of the country, for homely indeed they were, to such a degree that if our men had not had good stomachs that way, they would scarce have touched any of them. I could never fully get it out of our men what they did. They were so true to one another in their wickedness, but I understood in the main that it was some barbarous thing they had done, and that they had liked to have paid dear for it, for the men resented it to the last degree, and gathered in such numbers about them that had not sixteen more of our men in another boat come all in the nick of time just to rescue our first men, who were but eleven, and so fetch them off by main force they had been all cut off, the inhabitants being no less than two or three hundred armed with darts and lances, the usual weapons of the country, and which they are very dexterous at the throwing, even so dexterous that it was scarce credible, and had our men stood to fight them, as some of them were bold enough to talk of, they had been all overwhelmed and killed. As it was, seventeen of our men were wounded, and some of them very dangerously, but they were more frighted than hurt, too, for every one of them gave themselves over for dead men, believing the lances were poisoned. But William was our comfort here, too, for when two of our surgeons were of the same opinion, and told the men foolishly enough that they would die, William cheerfully went to work with them, and cured them all but one, who rather died by drinking some Iraq punch than of his wound, the excess of drinking throwing him into a fever. We had enough of Salon, though some of our people were foregoing ashore again, sixty or seventy men together, to be revenged. But William persuaded them against it, and his reputation was so great among the men, as well as with us that were commanders, that he could influence them more than any of us.  Well, says William, and suppose you do. What are you the better? Why, then, says one of them, speaking for the rest, we shall have our satisfaction. Well, and what will you be the better for that? says William. They could then say nothing to that. Then says William, if I mistake not, your business is money.  Pray, what will you get? They are poor naked wretches. What shall you gain by them? But then, says William, perhaps in doing this, you may chance to lose half a score of your own company, as it is very probable you may. Pray, what gain is in it, and what account can you give the captain for his lost men? In short, William argued so effectually, that he convinced them that it was mere murder to do so, and that the men had a right to their own, and that they had no right to take them away, that it was destroying innocent men who had acted no otherwise than as the laws of nature dictated, and that it would be as much murder to do so as to meet a man on the highway and kill him for the mere sake of it in cold blood, not regarding whether he had done any wrong to us or no. These reasons prevailed with them at last, and they were content to go away and leave them as they found them. In the first skirmish they killed between sixty and seventy men, and wounded a great many more, but they had nothing, and our people got nothing by it, but the loss of one man's life, and the wounding sixteen more as above. But another accident brought us to a necessity of further business with these people, and indeed we had liked to have put an end to our lives and adventures all at once among them. For about three days after putting out to sea from the place where we had that skirmish, we were attacked by a violent storm of wind from the south, or rather a hurricane of wind from all the points southward. For it blew in a most desperate and furious manner, from the southeast to the southwest, one minute at one point, and then instantly turning about again to another point, but with the same violence. Nor were we able to work the ship in that condition, so that the ship I was in split three top sails, and at last brought the main top mast by the board. And in a word we were once or twice driven right ashore, and one time had not the wind shifted the very moment it did. We had been dashed in a thousand pieces upon a great ledge of rocks which lay off about half a leg from shore. But as I have said, the wind shifting very often, and at that time coming to east, southeast, we stretched off and got above a leg more sea room in half an hour. After that it blew with some fury southwest by south, then southwest by west, and put us back again a great way to the eastward of the ledge of rocks, where we found a great opening before the rocks and the land, and endeavored to come to an anchor there. But we found there was no ground fit to anchor in, and that we should lose our anchors. There be nothing but rocks. We stood through the opening, which held about four leagues. The storm continued, and now we found a dreadful fowl shore, and knew not what course to take. We looked out very narrowly for some river or creek or bay, where we might run in and come to an anchor, but found none a great while. At length we saw a great headland lie out far south into the sea, and that to such a length that in short we saw plainly that if the wind held where it was, we could not weather it. So we ran in as much under the lee of the point as we could, and came to an anchor in about 12 fathom water. But the wind, varying again in the night and blowing exceedingly hard, our anchors came home, and the ship drove till the rudder struck against the ground, and had the ship gone half her length farther she had been lost, and every one of us with her. But our sheet anchor held its own, and we heaved in some of the cable to get clear of the ground we had struck upon. It was by this only cable that we rode it out all night, and towards morning we thought the wind abated a little, and it was well for us that it was so. For in spite of what our sheet anchor did for us, we found the ship fast aground in the morning, to our very great surprise and amazement. When the tide was out, though the water here ebbed away, the ship lay almost dry upon a bank of hard sand, which never, I suppose, had any ship upon it before. The people of the country came down in great numbers to look at us in gaze, not knowing what we were, but gaping at us as at a great sight or wonder at which they were surprised, and knew not what to do. End of Section 23. Read by Dennis Sayers in Modesto, California for LibriVox. Section 24 of Captain Singleton. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, visit LibriVox.org. The Life Adventures and Piracies of the Famous Captain Singleton by Daniel Defoe. Section 24. I have reason to believe that upon the sight they immediately sent an account of a ship being there, and of the condition we were in. For the next day there appeared a great man, whether it was their king or no, I know not. But he had abundance of men with him, and some with long javelins in their hands as long as halfpikes. And these came all down to the water's edge, and drew up in a very good order, just in our view. They stood near an hour without making any motion, and then there came near twenty of them, with the man before them carrying a white flag. They came forward in the water as high as their wastes, the sea not going so high as before, for the wind was abated and blew off the shore. The man made a long oration to us, as we could see by his gestures, and we sometimes heard his voice, but knew not one word he said. William, who was always useful to us, I believe was here again, the saving of all our lives. The case was this. The fellow, or what I might call him, when his speech was done, gave three great screams, for I know not what else to say they were, then lowered his white flag three times, and then made three motions to us with his arm, to come to him. I acknowledge that I was for manning out the boat and going to them, but William would by no means allow me. He told me we ought to trust nobody, that if they were barbarians, and under their own government, we might sure to be all murdered, and if they were Christians, we should not fare much better, if they knew who we were, that it was the custom of the Malabars to betray all people, that they could get into their hands, and that these were some of the same people, and that if we had any regard to our own safety, we should not go to them by any means. I opposed him a great while, and told him I thought he used to be always right, but that now I thought he was not, that I was no more for running needless wrists than he or anyone else, but I thought all the nations in the world, even the most savage people, when they held out a flag of peace, kept the offer of peace made by that signal very sacredly, and I gave him several examples of it in the history of my African travels, which I have here gone through in the beginning of this work, and that I could not think these people worse than some of them. And besides, I told him our case seemed to be such that we must fall into somebody's hands or other, and that we had better fall into their hands by a friendly treaty than by a forced submission, nay, though they had indeed a treacherous design, and therefore I was for a parley with them. Well, friend, says William very gravely, if thou wilt go, I cannot help it. I shall only desire to take my one last leave of thee at parting, for, depend upon it, thou wilt never see us again. Whether we in the ship may come off any better at last, I cannot resolve thee, but this I will answer for, that we will not give up our lives idly, and in cool blood, as thou art going to do. We will at least preserve ourselves as long as we can, and die at last like men, not like fools treponed by the wiles of a few barbarians. William spoke this with so much warmth, and yet with so much assurance of our fate, that I began to think a little of the risk I was going to run. I had no more mind to be murdered than he, and yet I could not for my life be so faint-hearted in the thing as he, upon which I asked him if he had any knowledge of the place or had ever been there. He said, no. Then I asked him if he had heard or read anything about the people of this island, and of their way of treating any Christians that had fallen into their hands, and he told me he had heard of one, and he would tell me the story afterward. His name, he said, was Knox, commander of an East India ship, who was driven on shore, just as we were, upon his island of Selan, though he could not say it was at the same place or whereabouts, that he was beguiled by the barbarians and enticed to come on shore, just as we were invited to do at that time, and that, when they had him, they surrounded him in eighteen or twenty of his men, and never suffered them to return, but kept them prisoners or murdered them. He could not tell which, but they were carried away up into the country, separated from one another, and never heard of afterwards, except the captain's son, who miraculously made his escape after twenty years' slavery. I had no time then to ask him to give the full story of this Knox much less to hear him tell it me, but as it is usual in such cases, when one begins to be a little touched, I turned short with him. Why then, friend William, said I, what would you have us do? You see what condition we are in, and what is before us, and something must be done, and that immediately. Why, says William, I'll tell thee what thou shalt do. First, cause a white flag to be hanged out, as they do to us, and man out the longboat and pinnass, with as many men as they can well stow, to handle their arms, and let me go with them, and thou shalt see what we will do. If I miscarry, thou mayst be safe, and I will also tell thee that if I do miscarry, it shall be my own fault, and thou shalt learn wit by my folly. I knew not what to reply to him at first, but after some pause, I said, William, William, I am as both you should be lost as you are that I should, and if there be any danger, I desire you may no more fall into it than I. Therefore, if you will, let us all keep in the ship, and fare alike, and take our fate together. No, no, says William, there is no danger in the method I propose. Thou shalt go with me, if thou thinkest fit. If thou pleasest, but to follow the measures that I shall resolve on, depend upon it. Though we will go off from the ships, we will not a man of us go any nearer them than within call to talk with them. Thou seest they have no boats to come off to us, but says he, I rather desire thou wouldst take my advice and manage these ships, as I shall give the signal from the boat, and let us concert that matter together before we go off. Well, I found William had his measures in his head all laid beforehand, and was not at loss what to do at all. So I told him he should be captain for this voyage, and we would be all of us under his orders, which I would see observed to a tittle. Upon this conclusion of our debates, he ordered four and twenty men into the longboat, and twelve men into the penis, and the sea being now pretty smooth, they went off being all very well armed. Also he ordered that all the guns of the great ship, on the side which lay next the shore, should be loaded with musket balls, old nails, stubs, and such like pieces of old iron, lead and anything that came to hand, and that we should prepare to fire as soon as ever we saw them lower the white flag, and hoist up a red one in the penis. With these measures fixed between us, they went off towards the shore. William in the penis, with twelve men, and the longboat coming after him, with four and twenty more, all stout, resolute fellows, and very well armed. They rode so near the shore as that they might speak to one another, carrying a white flag as the other did, and offering a parley. The brutes, for such they were, showed themselves very courteous, but finding we could not understand them, they fetched an old Dutchman, who had been their prisoner many years, and set him to speak with us. The sum and substance of his speech was that the king of the country had sent his general down to know who we were and what our business was. William stood up in the stern of the penis and told him that as to that he, that was an European, by his language and voice, might easily know what we were and our condition. The ship being aground upon the sand would also tell him that our business was that of a ship in distress, so William desired to know what they came down for with such a multitude and with arms and weapons, as if they came to war with us. He answered they might have very good reason to come down to the shore, the country being alarmed with the appearance of ships of strangers upon the coast, and as our vessels were full of men, and as we had guns and weapons, the king had sent part of his military men, that in case of any invasion upon the country, they might be ready to defend themselves, whatsoever might be the occasion. But, says he, as you are men in distress, the king has ordered his general, who is here also, to give you all the assistance he can, and to invite you on shore, and receive you with all possible courtesy. Says William very quick upon him, before I give thee an answer to that, I desire thee to tell me what thou art, for by thy speech thou art an European. He answered presently, he was a Dutchman. That I know well, says William, by thy speech, but art thou a native Dutchman of Holland, or a native of this country that has learned Dutch by conversing among the Hollanders, who we know are settled upon this island. No, says the old man, I am a native of Delft in the province of Holland, in Europe. Well, says William immediately, but art thou a Christian, or a heathen, or what we call a renegado. I am, says he, a Christian, and they went on in a short dialogue as follows. William, thou art a Dutchman and a Christian, thou sayest, pray, art thou a freeman, or a servant, Dutchman. I am a servant to the king here, and in his army. W. But art thou a volunteer, or a prisoner. D. Indeed, I was a prisoner at first, but am at liberty now, and so am a volunteer. W. That is to say, being first a prisoner, thou hast liberty to serve them, but art thou so at liberty, that thou must go away, if thou pleasest, to thine own countrymen. D. No, I do not say so. My countrymen live a great way off on the north and east parts of the island, and there is no going to them without the king's express license. W. Well, and why dost thou not get a license to go away? D. I have never asked for it. W. And I suppose if thou didst, thou knowest, thou couldst not obtain it. D. I cannot say much as to that, but why do you ask me all these questions? W. Why my reason is good. If thou art a Christian and a prisoner, how canst thou consent to be made an instrument to these barbarians, to betray us into their hands, who are thy countrymen and fellow Christians? Is it not a barbarous thing in thee to do so? D. How do I go about to betray you? Do I not give you an account how the king invites you to come on shore, and has ordered you to be treated courteously and assisted? W. As thou art a Christian, though I doubted much, dost thou believe the king, or the general, as thou callst it, means one word of what he says. D. He promises you by the mouth of his great general. W. I don't ask thee what he promises, or by whom, but I ask thee this. Canst thou say that thou believest? He intends to perform it. D. How can I answer that? How can I tell what he intends? W. Thou canst tell me what thou believest. D. I cannot say, but he will perform it. I believe he may. W. Thou art but a double-tongued Christian, I doubt. Come, I'll ask thee another question. Will thou say that thou believest it, and that thou wouldst advise me to believe it, and put our lives into their hands upon these promises? D. I am not to be your advisor. W. Thou art perhaps afraid to speak thy mind, because thou art in their power. Pray, do any of them understand what thou and I say? Can they speak Dutch? D. No, not one of them. I have no apprehensions upon that account at all. W. Why, then answer me plainly, if thou art a Christian. Is it safe for us to venture upon their words, to put ourselves into their hands, and come on shore? D. You put it very home to me. Pray, let me ask you another question.  W. Yes. Yes, we shall get off the ship. Now the storm is over, we don't fear it. D. Then I cannot say it is best for you to trust them. W. Well, it is honestly said. D. But what shall I say to them? W. Give them good words, as they give us. D. What good words? W. Why, let them tell the king that we are strangers, who were driven on his coast by a great storm, that we thank him very kindly for his offer of stability to us, which if we are further distressed, we will accept thankfully. But that at present we have no occasion to come on shore, and besides that we cannot safely leave the ship and the present condition she is in, but that we are obliged to take care of her in order to get her off, and expect in a tide or two more to get her quite clear, and at an anchor. D. But he will expect you to come on shore then, to visit him, and make him some present for his civility. W. When we have got our ship clear and stopped the leagues, we will pay our respects to him. D. Nay, you may as well come to him now, as then. W. Nay, hold, friend. I did not say we would come to him then. You talked of making him a present, that is to pay our respects to him. Is it not? D. Well, but I will tell him that you will come on shore to him when your ship has got off. W. I have nothing to say to that, and you may tell him what you think fit. D. But he will be in a great rage if I do not. W. Who will he be in a great rage at? D. At you. W. What occasion have we to value that? D. Why, he will send all his army down against you. W. And what if they were all here just now? What dost thou suppose they could do to us? D. He would expect they should burn your ships, and bring you all to him. W. Tell him, if he should try, he may catch a tartar. D. He has a world of men. W. Has he any ships? D. No, he has no ships. W. Nor boats? D. No, nor boats. W. Why, what then do you think we care for his men? What canst thou do now to us, if thou hast a hundred thousand with thee? D. O. They might set you on fire. W. Set us a firing, thou meanest. That they might indeed, but set us on fire they shall not. They may try at their peril, and we shall make mad work with your hundred thousand men, if they come within reach of our guns. I assure thee. D. But what if the king gives you hostages for your safety? W. Whom can he give but mere slaves and servants like thyself, whose lives he know more values than we and English hound? D. Whom do you demand for hostages? W. Himself and your worship. D. What would you do with him? W. Do with him as he would do with us.  And what would you do with me? W. Do with thee. We would carry thee home into thine own country, and though thou deservedest the gallows, we would make a man and a Christian of thee again, and not do by thee as thou wouldst have done by us. Betray thee to a parcel of merciless, savage pagans, that know no God, nor how to show mercy to man. D. You put a thought in my head that I will speak to you about tomorrow. Thus they went away, and William came on board, and gave us a full account of his parley with the old Dutchman, which was very diverting, and to me instructing, for I had abundance of reason to acknowledge William had made a better judgment of things than I. It was our good fortune to get our ship off that very night, and to bring her to an anchor about a mile and a half further out, and in deep water, to our great satisfaction, so that we had no need to fear the Dutchman's king with his hundred thousand men, and indeed we had some sport with them the next day when they came down. A vast, prodigious multitude of them, very few lesson number in our imagination, than a hundred thousand with some elephants, though if it had been an army of elephants they could have done us no harm, for we were fairly at our anchor now and out of their reach. And indeed we thought ourselves more out of their reach than we really were, and it was ten thousand to one that we had not been fast aground again for the wind blowing offshore, though it made the water smooth where we lay, yet it blew the ebb farther out than usual, and we could easily perceive the sand, which we touched upon before, lay in the shape of a half moon, and surrounded us with two horns of it, so that we lay in the middle or center of it, as in a round bay, safe, just as we were, and in deep water, but present death, as it were, on the right hand and on the left, for the two horns, or points of the sand, reached out beyond where our ship lay near two miles. On that part of the sand, which lay on our east side, this misguided multitude extended themselves, and being, most of them, not above their knees, or most of them not above ankle, deep in the water, they, as it were, surrounded us on that side, and on the side of the mainland, and a little way on the other side of the sand, standing in a half circle, or rather three-fifths of a circle, for about six miles in length. The other horn, or point of the sand, which lay on our west side, being not quite so shallow, they could not extend themselves upon it so far. They little thought what service they had done us, and how unwittingly, and by the greatest ignorance, they had made themselves pilots to us, while we, having not sounded the place, might have been lost before we were aware. It is true we might have sounded our new harbor before we had ventured out, but I cannot say for certain whether we should or not, for I, for my part, had not the least suspicion of what our real case was. However, I say, perhaps, before we had weighed, we should have looked about us a little. I am sure we ought to have done it, for besides these armies of human furies, we had a very leaky ship, and all our pumps could hardly keep the water from growing upon us, and our carpenters were overboard, working to find out, and stop the wounds we had received, healing her first on the one side and then on the other, and it was very diverting to see how, when our men healed the ship over to the side next to the wild army that stood on the east horn of the sand, they were so amazed, between fright and joy, that it put them into a kind of confusion, calling to one another, hallowing and screeching in a manner that it is impossible to describe. While we were doing this, for we were in a great hurry, you may be sure, and all hands at work, as well at the stopping our leaks as repairing our rigging and sails, which had received a great deal of damage, and also in rigging a new main top mast, and the like. I say, while we were doing all this, we perceived a body of men of near a thousand, moved from that part of the army of the barbarians that lay at the bottom of the sandy bay, and came all along the water's edge, round the sand, till they stood just on our broadside east, and were within half a mile of us, then we saw the Dutchman come forward nearer to us, and all alone, with his white flag, and all his motions, just as before. And there he stood. End of Section 24, read by Dennis Sayers in Modesto, California, for LibriVox. Section 25 of Captain Singleton. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, visit LibriVox.org. The Life, Adventures, and Piracies of the Famous Captain Singleton, by Daniel Defoe, Section 25. Our men had but just brought the ship to rights again, as they came up to our broadside, and we had very happily found out, and stopped, the worst and most dangerous leak that we had, to our very great satisfaction. So I ordered the boats to be hauled up and manned, as they were the day before, and William to go as plenipotentiary. I would have gone myself, if I had understood Dutch, but as I did not, it was to no purpose. For I should be able to know nothing of what was said, but from him at second hand, which might be done as well afterwards. All the instructions I pretended to give William was, if possible, to get the old Dutchman away, and if he could, to make him come on board. Well, William went just as before, and when he came within about sixty or seventy yards of the shore, he held up his white flag, as the Dutchman did, and turning the boats broadside to the shore, and his men lying upon their oars, the parley, or dialogue, began again thus. William, well, friend, what dost thou say to us now? Dutchman, I come of the same mild errand as I did yesterday. W.  Prithee, what dost thou mean? D. The king hastens us to invite the captain and all his men to come on shore, and has ordered all his men to show them all the civility they can. W. Well, and are all those men come to invite us? Ashore. D.  W. Well, and what dost thou think they can do to us, if we will not? D. I would not have them do any hurt, then, neither. W. But Prithee, friend, do not make thyself fool and, nave, too. dost not thou know that we are out of fear of all thy army, and out of danger of all that they can do? What makes the act so simply, as well as so navishly? D. Why, you may think yourselves safer than you are. You do not know what they may do to you. I can assure you they are able to do you a great deal of harm, and perhaps burn your ship. W. Suppose that were true, as I am sure it is false. You see, we have more ships to carry us off, pointing to the sloop. Note bene. Just at this time we discovered the sloop standing towards us from the east, along the shore, at about the distance of two leagues, which was, to our particular satisfaction, she having been missing thirteen days. D. We do not value that. If you had ten ships, you dare not come on shore with all the men you have, in a hostile way. We are too many for you. W. Thou dost not, even in that, speak as thou meanest, and we may give thee a trial of our hands, when our friends come up to us. For thou hear us, they have discovered us. Just then the sloop fired five guns, which was to get news of us, for they did not see us. D. Yes, I hear they fire. But I hope your ship will not fire again, for if they do, our general will take it for breaking the truce, and will make the army let fly a shower of arrows at you in the boat. W. Thou mayst be sure the ship will fire, that the other ship may hear them, but not with ball. If thy general knows no better, he may begin when he will. But thou mayst be sure we will return it to his cost. D. What must I do then? W. Do, why, go to him, and tell him of it beforehand, then, and let him know that the ship firing is not at him, nor his men, and then come again, and tell us what he says. D. No, I will send to him, which will do as well. W. Do as thou wilt, but I believe thou hast better go thyself. For if our men fire first, I suppose he will be in a great wrath, and it may be at thee. For as to his wrath at us, we tell thee beforehand we value it not. D. You slight them too much. You know not what they may do. W. Thou makest as if these poor savage wretches could do mighty things. Prithee, let us see what you can all do. We value it not. Thou mayst set down thy flag of truce, when thou pleasest, and begin. D. I had rather make a truce, and have you all part friends. W. Thou art a deceitful rogue thyself. For it is plain thou knowest these people would only persuade us on shore to entrap and surprise us. And yet thou that art a Christian, as thou callest thyself, would have us come on shore and put our lives into their hands, who know nothing that belongs to compassion, good usage, or good manners.  D. How do you call me so? What have I done to you, and what would you have me do? W.  But like one that was once a Christian, and would have been so still, if you had not been a Dutchman. D. I know not what to do, not I. I wish I were from them.  W. Prithee, make no difficulty of what thou shouldst do. Canst thou swim? D. Yes, I can swim. But if I should attempt to swim off to you, I should have a thousand arrows and javelins sticking in me before I should get to your boat. W. I'll bring the boat close to thee, and take thee on board in spite of them all. We will give them but one volley, and I'll engage, they will all run away from thee. D.  They would immediately come all running down to the shore, and shoot fire arrows at you, and set your boat and ship and all on fire about your ears. W. We will venture that, if thou wilt come off. D. Will you use me honorably when I am among you? W. I'll give thee my word for it. If thou provost honest. D. Will you not make me a prisoner? W. I will be thy surety, body for body, that thou shalt be a free man, and go wither thou wilt, though I own to thee thou dust not deserve it. Just at this time our ship fired three guns to answer the sloop, and let her know we saw her, who immediately we perceived it, understood it, and stood directly for the place. But it is impossible to express the confusion and filthy vile noise, the hurry, and universal disorder that was among that vast multitude of people upon our firing off three guns. They immediately all repaired to their arms, as I may call it, for to say they put themselves into order would be saying nothing. Upon the word of command, then, they advanced all in a body to the seaside, and resolving to give us one volley of their firearms, for such they were. Immediately they saluted us with a hundred thousand of their fire arrows. Everyone carrying a little bag of cloth dipped in brimstone, or some such thing, which, flying through the air, had nothing to hinder it taking fire as it flew, and it generally did so. I cannot say but this method of attacking us, by a way we had no notion of, might give us, at first, some little surprise, for the number was so great, at first, that we were not altogether without apprehensions that they might, unluckily, set our ship on fire, so that William resolved immediately to row on board, and persuade us all to way, and stand out to sea. But there was no time for it, for they immediately let fly a volley at the boat, and at the ship, from all parts of the vast crowd of people which stood near the shore. Nor did they fire, as I may call it, all at once, and so leave off.  I could not say whether they set their cotton rag on fire before they shot the arrow, for I did not perceive they had fire with them, which, however, it seems they had. The arrow, besides the fire it carried with it, had a head, or a peg, as we call it, a bone, and some of sharp flintstone, and some few of a metal, too soft in itself for metal, but hard enough to cause it to enter, if it were a plank, so as to stick where it fell. William and his men had noticed sufficient to lie close behind their wasteboards, which, for this very purpose, they had made so high that they could easily sink themselves behind them, so as to defend themselves from anything that came point-blank, as we call it, or upon a line. But for what might fall perpendicularly out of the air they had no guard, but took the hazard of that. At first they made as if they would row away. But before they went they gave a volley of their firearms, firing at those which stood with the Dutchman. But William ordered them to be sure to take their aim at others, so as to miss him, and they did so. There was no calling to them now, for the noise was so great among them that they could hear nobody, but our men boldly rowed in nearer to them. For they were at first driven a little off, and when they came nearer they fired a second volley, which put the fellows into great confusion, and we could see from the ship that several of them were killed or wounded. We thought this was a very unequal fight, and therefore we made a signal to our men to row away, that we might have a little of the sport as well as they. But the arrows flew so thick upon them, being so near the shore, that they could not sit to their oars, so they spread a little of their sail, thinking they might sail along the shore and lie behind their wasteboard. But the sail had not been spread six minutes, till it had five hundred fire arrows shot into it and through it, and at length set it fairly on fire. Nor were our men quite out of the danger of it setting the boat on fire, and this made them paddle and shove the boat away as well as they could, as they lay, to get farther off. By this time they had left us a fair mark at the whole savage army, and as we had steered the ship as nearer to them as we could, we fired among the thickest of them six or seven times, five guns at a time, with shot, old iron, musket, bullets, etc. We could easily see that we made havoc among them and killed and wounded abundance of them, and that they were in a great surprise at it, but yet they never offered to stir, and all this while their fire arrows flew as thick as before. At last, on a sudden, their arrows stopped, and the old Dutchman came running down to the waterside all alone, with his white flag as before, waving it as high as he could, and making signals to our boat to come to him again. William did not care at first to go near him, but the man continuing to make signals to him to come, at last William went, and the Dutchman told him that he had been with the general, who was much mollified by the slaughter of his men, and that now he could have anything of him. Anything, says William, what have we to do with him? Let him go about his business, and carry his men out of gunshot. Can't he? Why, says the Dutchman, but he dares not stir nor see the king's face, unless some of your men come on shore. He will certainly put him to death. Why then, says William, he is a dead man, for if it were to save his life and the lives of all the crowd that is with him, he shall never have one of us in his power. But how tell thee, said William, how thou shalt cheat him, and gain thy own liberty too? If thou hast any mind to see thy own country again, and art not turned, savage, and grown fond of living all thy days among heathens and savages. I would be glad to do it with all my heart, says he, but if I should offer to swim off to you now, though they are so far from me, they shoot so true, that they would kill me before I got halfway. But, says William, I'll tell thee how thou shalt come with his consent. Go to him, and tell him I have offered to carry you on board, to try if you could persuade the captain to come on shore, and that I would not hinder him if he was willing to venture. The Dutchman seemed in a rapture at the very first word. I'll do it, says he. I am persuaded he will give me leave to come. Away he runs as if he had a glad message to carry, and tells the general that William had promised if he would go on board the ship with him he would persuade the captain to return with him. The general was fool enough to give him orders to go, and charged him not to come back without the captain, which he readily promised, and very honestly, might. So they took him in, and brought him on board, and he was as good as his word to them, for he never went back to them any more. And the sloop being come to the mouth of the inlet where we lay, we wade and set sail. But as we went out, being pretty near the shore, we fired three guns as it were among them, but without any shot, for it was of no use to us to hurt any more of them. After we had fired, we gave them a cheer, as the seamen call it, that is to say we alluded them by way of triumph, and so carried off their ambassador. How it fared with their general, we know nothing of that. End of section 25, read by Dennis Sayers in Modesto, California, for LibriVox. Section 26 of Captain Singleton. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to find out how to volunteer, visit LibriVox.org. Read by Dennis Sayers. The Life, Adventures, and Piracies of Captain Singleton by Daniel Defoe. Section 26. This passage, when I related it to a friend of mine, after my return from those rambles, agreed so well with his relation of what happened to one Mr. Knox, an English captain, who some time ago was decoyed on shore by these people, that it could not but be very much to my satisfaction to think what mischief we had all escaped, and I think it cannot but be very profitable to record the other story, which is but short, with my own, to show whoever reads this what it was, I avoided, and prevent their falling into the like, if you have to do with the perfidious people of Ceylon. The relation is as follows. The island of Ceylon being inhabited for the greatest part by barbarians, which will not allow any trade or commerce with any European nation, and inaccessible by any travelers. It will be convenient to relate the occasion, how the author of this story happened to go into this island, and what opportunities he had of being fully acquainted with the people, their laws, and customs, that so we may the better depend upon the account, and value it as it deserves. For the rarity as well as the truth of it. And both these the author gives us a brief relation of, in this manner. His words are as follows. In the year 1657, the Anne frigate of London, Captain Robert Knox Commander, on the 21st day of January, set sail out of the Downs, in the service of the Honourable East India Company of England, bound for Fort St. George, upon the coast of Coromandel, to trade for one year from port to port in India. Which, having performed, as he was lading his goods to return for England, being in the road of Masulipatam on the 19th of November 1659, there happened such a mighty storm, that in it several ships were cast away, and he was forced to cut his main mist by the board, which so disabled the ship that he could not proceed in his voyage. Whereupon, Kotiar, in the island of Salon, being a very commodious bay, fit for her present distress, Thomas Chambers, Esquire, since Sir Thomas Chambers, the agent at Fort St. George, ordered that the ship should take in some cloth and India merchants belonging to Porto Novo, who might trade there while she laid to set her mast, and repair the other damages sustained by the storm. At her first coming dither, after the Indian merchants were set ashore, the captain and his men were very jealous of the people of that place, by reason the English never had any commerce or dealing with them. But after they had been there twenty days, going ashore and returning again at pleasure, without any molestation, they began to lay aside all suspicious thoughts of the people that dwelt their abouts, who had kindly entertained them for their money. By this time the king of the country had notice of their arrival, and not being acquainted with their intents, he sent down a disueva, or general, with an army to them, who immediately sent a messenger to the captain on board, to desire him to come ashore to him, pretending a letter from the king. The captain saluted the message with firing of guns, and ordered his son, Robert Knox, and Mr. John Loveland, merchant of the ship, to go ashore, and wait on him. When they were come before him, he demanded who they were, and how long they would stay. They told him they were Englishmen, and not to stay above twenty or thirty days, and desired permission to trade in his majesty's port. His answer was that the king was glad to hear the English were coming to his country, and had demanded him to assist them as they should desire, and had sent a letter to be delivered to none but the captain himself. They were then twelve miles from the seaside, and therefore replied that the captain could not leave his ship to come so far, but if he pleased to go down to the seaside, the captain would wait on him to receive the letter, whereupon the disueva desired them to stay that day, and on the morrow he would go with them, which rather than displease him in so small a matter they consented to. In the evening the disueva sent a present to the captain of cattle and fruits, which, being carried all night by the messengers, were delivered to him in the morning, who told him, with all, that his men were coming down with the disueva, and desired his company on shore against his coming, having a letter from the king to deliver into his own hand. The captain, mistrusting nothing, came on shore with his boat, and, sitting under a tamarin tree, waited for the disueva. In the meantime the native soldiers privately surrounded him and the seven men he had with him, and seizing them carried them to meet the disueva, bearing the captain on a hammock on their shoulders. The next day the longboat's crew, not knowing what had happened, came on shore to cut down a tree to make cheeks for the mainmist, and were made prisoners after the same manner, though with more violence, because they were more rough with them, and made resistance. Yet they were not brought to the captain and his company, but quartered in another house, in the same town. The disueva, having thus gotten two boats and eighteen men, his next care was to gain the ship, and to that end telling the captain that he and his men were only detained because the king intended to send letters and a present to the English nation by him. Desired he would send some men on board his ship to order her to stay, and because the ship was in danger of being fired by the Dutch, if she stayed long in the bay, to bring her up the river. The captain did not approve of the advice, but did not dare to own his dislike, so he sent his son with the order, but with a solemn conjuration to return again, which he accordingly did, bringing a letter from the company of the ship that they would not obey the captain nor any other in this matter, but were resolved to stand on their own defense. This letter satisfied the disueva, who thereupon gave the captain leave to write for what he would have brought from the ship, pretending that he had not the king's order to release them, though it would suddenly come. The captain seen he was held in suspense, and the season of the year spending for the ship to proceed on her voyage to some place, sent order to Mr. John Burford, the chief mate, to take charge of the ship, and set sail to Porto Novo, from which they came, and there to follow the agent's order. And now began that long and sad captivity they all along feared. The ship being gone, the disueva was called up to the king, and they were kept under guards a while, till a special order came from the king to part them, and put one in a town for the convenience of their maintenance, which the king ordered to be at the charge of the country. On September 16, 1660, the captain and his son were placed in a town called Bander Cuswat, in the country of Hatt Coorley. Heroïse Coorley, distant from the city of Candy, northward 30 miles, and from the rest of the English a full day's journey. Here they had their provisions brought them twice a day, without money, as much as they could eat, and as good as the country yielded. The situation of the place was very pleasant and commodious, but that year that part of the island was very sickly by agus and fevers, of which many died. The captain and his son, after some time, were visited with the common distemper, and the captain, being also loaded with grief for his deplorable condition, languished more than three months, and then died February 9, 1661. Robert Knox, his son, was now left desolate, sick, and in captivity, having none to comfort him but God, who is the father of the fatherless. And here's the groans of such as are in captivity, being alone to enter upon a long scene of misery and calamity, oppressed with weakness of body and grief of soul for the loss of his father, and the remediless trouble that he was like to endure, and the first instance of it was in the burial of his father, for he sent his black boy to the people of the town to desire their assistance, because they understood not their language, but they sent him only a rope to drag him by the neck into the woods, and told him that they would offer him no other help, unless he would pay for it. This barbarous answer increased his trouble for his father's death, that now he was like to lie unburied and be made a prey to the wild beasts in the woods, for the ground was very hard, and they had not tools to dig with, and so it was impossible for them to bury him, and having a small matter of money left him, this a pagoda and a gold ring, he hired a man, and so buried him in as decent a manner as their condition would permit. His dead father being removed out of his sight, but his ague continuing, he was reduced very low, partly by sorrow, and partly by his disease. All the comfort he had was to go into the woods and fields with a book, either the Practice of Piety or Mr. Rogers' Seven Treatises, which were the only two books he had, and meditate and read, and sometimes pray, in which his anguish made him often invert Elijah's petition that he might die because his life was a burden to him. God, though he was pleased to prolong his life, yet he found a way to lighten his grief by removing his ague, and granting him a desire which, above all things, was acceptable to him. He had read his two books over so often that he had both, almost by heart, and though they were both pious and good writings, yet he longed for the truth from the original fountain, and thought it his greatest unhappiness that he had not a Bible, and did believe that he should never see one again. But contrary to his expectation, God brought him one after this manner. As he was fishing one day with his black boy to catch some fish to relieve his hunger, an old man passed by them and asked his boy whether his master could read, and when the boy had answered yes, he told him that he had gotten a book from the Portuguese when they left Colombo, and if his master pleased he would sell it him. The boy told his master who bade him go and see what book it was. The boy, having served the English some time, knew the book, and as soon as he got it into his hand came running to him, calling out before he came to him, it is the Bible. The words startled him, and he flung down his angle to meet him, and finding it was true, was mightily rejoiced to see it. But he was afraid he should not have enough to purchase it, though he was resolved to part with all the money he had, which was but one pagoda to buy it. But his black boy persuading him to slight it, and leave it to him to buy it, he at length obtained it for a knit cap. This accident he could not but look upon as a great miracle, that God should bestow upon him such an extraordinary blessing, and bring him a Bible in his own native language in such a remote part of the world, where his name was not known, and where it was never heard of that an Englishman had ever been before. The enjoyment of this mercy was a great comfort to him in captivity, and though he wanted no bodily convenience that the country did afford, for the king, immediately after his father's death, had sent an express order to the people of the towns that they should be kind to him, and give him good victuals. And after he had been some time in the country, and understood the language, he got him good conveniences as a house, and gardens, and, falling to husbandry, God so prospered him that he had plenty, not only for himself, but to lend others, which being, according to the custom of the country, at fifty percent, a year, much enriched him. He had also goats, which served him for mutton, and hogs and hens. Notwithstanding this, I say, for he lived as fine as any of their noblemen, he could not so far forget his native country as to be contented to dwell in a strange land, where there was to him a famine of God's word and sacraments, the one of which made all other things to be of little value to him. Therefore, as he made it his daily and fervent prayer to God, in his good time, to restore him to both, so at length he, with one Stephen Rutland, who had lived with him two years before, resolved to make their escape, and, about the year 1673, meditated all secret ways to compass it. They had before taken up a way of peddling about the country, and buying tobacco, pepper, garlic, combs, and all sorts of ironware, and carried them into those parts of the country where they wanted them. And now, to promote their design, as they went with their commodities from place to place, they discoursed with the country people, for they could now speak their language well, concerning the ways and inhabitants, where the isle was thinnest and fullest inhabited, where and how the watches lay from one country to another, and what commodities were proper for them to carry into all parts, pretending that they would furnish themselves with such wares as the respective places wanted. None doubted, but what they did was upon the account of trade, because Mr. Knox was so well seated, and could not be supposed to leave such an estate by traveling northward, because that part of the island was least inhabited, and so furnishing themselves with such wares as were vendable in those parts, they set forth and steered their course towards the north part of the islands, knowing very little of the ways, which were generally intricate and perplexed, because they had no public roads, but a multitude of little paths from one town to another, and those often changing, and for white men to inquire about the ways was very dangerous, because the people would presently suspect their design. At this time they traveled from Conde Uda, as far as the country of Nuara, Calawia, which is the furthest part of the king's dominions, and about three days' journey from their dwelling. They were very thankful to Providence that they had passed all difficulties so far, but yet they durst not go any further, because they had no wares left to traffic with, and at being the first time they had been absent so long from home, they feared the townsmen would come after them to seek for them, and so they returned home, and went eight or ten times into those parts with their wares, till they became well acquainted, both with the people and the paths. In these parts Mr. Knox met his black boy, whom he had turned away diverse years before. He had now got a wife and children, and was very poor, but being acquainted with these quarters he not only took directions of him, but agreed with him for a good reward to conduct him and his companions to the Dutch. He gladly undertook it, and a time was appointed between them, but Mr. Knox, being disabled by a grievous pain, which seized him on his right side, and held him five days that he could not travel, this appointment proved in vain, for though he went as soon as he was well, his guide was gone into another country about his business, and they durst not at that time venture to run away without him. These attempts took up eight or nine years, various accidents hindering their designs, but most commonly the dry weather, because they feared in the woods they should be starved with thirst, all the country being in such a condition almost four or five years together, for lack of rain. On September 22, 1679, they set forth again, furnished with knives and small axes for their defense, because they could carry them privately, and send all sorts of wares to sell as formerly, and all necessary provisions, the moon being twenty-seven days old, that they might have light to run away by, to try what success God Almighty would now give them in seeking their liberty. Their first stage was to Anura d'Apura, and in the way to which lay a wilderness called Pyreoth Mokolane, full of wild elephants, tigers, and bears, and because it is the utmost confines of the king's dominions, there is always a watch kept. In the middle of the way they heard that the governor's officers of these parts were out to gather up the king's revenues and duties, to send them up to the city, which put them into no small fear, lest, finding them, they should send them back again, whereupon they withdrew to the western parts of Ekpulupat, and sat down to knitting till they heard the officers were gone. As soon as they were departed, they went onwards of their journey, having got a good parcel of cotton yarn to knit caps with, and having kept their wares, as they pretended, to exchange for dried flesh, which was sold only in those lower parts. Their way lay, necessarily, through the governor's yard at Kalluvila, who dwells there on purpose to examine all that go and come. This greatly distressed them, because he would easily suspect they were out of their bounds, being captives. However, they went resolutely to his house, and, meeting him, presented him with a small parcel of tobacco and betel, and, showing him their wares, told him they came to get dried flesh to carry back with them. The governor did not suspect them, but told them he was sorry they came and so dry a time. When no deer were to be catched, but if some rain fell, he would soon supply them. This answer pleased them, and they seemed contented to stay, and accordingly, abiding with him two or three days, and no rain falling, they presented the governor with five or six charges of gun powder, which is a rarity among them, and, leaving a bundle at his house, they desired him to shoot them some deer, while they made a step to Anuradipura. Here also they were put into a great fright, by the coming of certain soldiers from the king to the governor, to give him orders to set a secure guard at the watches that no suspicious persons might pass, which, though it was only intended to prevent the flight of the relations of certain nobles whom the king had clapped up, yet they feared they might wonder to see white men here, and so send them back again. But God so ordered it that they were very kind to them, and left them to their business, and so they got safe to Anuradipura. Their pretense was dried flush, though they knew there was none to be had, but their real business was to search the way down to the Dutch, which they stayed three days to do, but finding that in the way to Jafna Patan, which is one of the Dutch ports, there was a watch which could hardly be passed, and other inconveniences not surmountable. They resolved to go back and take the river Malwataoya, which they had before judged, would be a profitable guide to lead them to the sea, and that they might not be pursued, left Anuradipura just at night, when the people never travel for fear of wild beasts, and on Sunday, October 12, being stored with all things needful for their journey, vis 10 days provision, a basin to boil their provision in, two kalabashes to fetch water in, and two great tally-pot leaves for tents, with jaggery, sweet meats, tobacco, betel, tender boxes, and a deerskin for shoes, to keep their feet from thorns, because to them they chiefly trusted. Being come to the river, they struck into the woods, and kept by the side of it, yet not going on the sand, lest their footprints should be discerned, unless forced, and then going backwards. Being gotten a good way into the wood, began to rain, and wherefore they erected their tents, made a fire, and refreshed themselves against the rising of the moon, which was then 18 days old, and having tied deerskins about their feet, and eased themselves of their wares, they proceeded on their journey. When they had traveled three or four hours, with difficulty, because the moon gave but little light among the thick trees, they found an elephant in their way before them, and because they could not scare him away, they were forced to stay till morning, and so they kindled a fire, and took a pipe of tobacco. By the light they could not discern that ever anybody had been there, nothing being to be seen but woods, and so they were in great hopes that they were past all danger, being beyond all inhabitants, but they were mistaken, for the river winding northward brought them into the midst of a parcel of towns called Tiseiwava, where, being in danger of being seen, they were under a mighty terror, for had the people found them, they would have beat them, and sent them up to the king, and to avoid it they crept into a hollow tree, and sat there in mud and wet till it began to grow dark, and then, betaking themselves to their legs, traveled till the darkness of night stopped them. They heard voices behind them, and feared it was somebody in pursuit of them, but at length, discerning it was only an hallowing, to keep the wild beasts out of the corn, they pitched their tents by the river, and having boiled rice and roasted meat for their suppers, and satisfied their hunger, they committed themselves to God's keeping, and laid them down to sleep. The next morning, to prevent the worst, they got up early and hastened on their journey, and though they were now out of all danger of the tame Chiangulees, they were in great danger of the wild ones, of whom those woods were full, and though they saw their tents, yet they were all gone, since the rains had fallen from the river into the woods, and so God kept them from that danger, for had they met the wild men, they had been shot. Thus they traveled from morning till night, several days, through bushes and thorns, which made their arms and shoulders, which were naked, all of agor blood. They often met with bears, hogs, deers, and wild buffaloes, but they all ran away as soon as they saw them. The river was exceedingly full of alligators, and in the evening they used to pitch their tents, and make great fires, both before and behind them, to affright the wild beasts, and though they heard the voices of all sorts, they saw none. On Thursday, at noon, they crossed the river Caranda, Canadera, Oria, which parts the country of the Malabars from the kings, and on Friday, about nine or ten in the morning, came among the inhabitants, of whom they were as much afraid as of the Chianguleis before. For though the Waniunai, or prince of this people, payeth tribute to the Dutch out of fear, yet he is better affected to the king of Candi, and if he had took them, would have sent them up to their old master, but not knowing any way to escape, they kept on their journey by the river side by day, because the woods were not to be traveled by night for thorns and wild beasts, who came down then to the river to drink. In all the Malabar country they met with only two Brahmins, who treated them very civilly, and for their money one of them conducted them till they came into the territories of the Dutch, and out of all danger of the king of Candi, which did not a little rejoice them, but yet they were in no small trouble how to find the way out of the woods, till a Malabar, for the lucra of a knife, conducted them to a Dutch town, where they found guides to conduct them from town to town, till they came to the fort called Arepo, where they arrived Saturday, October 18, 1679, and there thankfully adored God's wonderful providence, and thus completing their deliverance, from a long captivity of 19 years and six months. End of section 26, read by Dennis Sayers in Modesto, California, for LibriVox.