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his
fishing-spears and dashed off towards the crags where the apes were.
Then I came out and saw the ship below. and the sailors in the
rigging, and the oars of the rowboat dipping in the waves, and I gave
a great cry of joy and fell to my knees.
    'Of
the arrival of strangers in his kingdom Cruso had his first
intimation when three seamen lifted him from his bed into a litter
and proceeded to bear him down the path to the shore; and even then
he likely thought it all a dream. But when he was hoisted aboard the Hobart ,
and smelled the tar. and heard the creak of timbers, he came to
himself and fought so hard to be free that it took strong men to
master him and convey him below.
    '"There
is another person on the island," I told the ship's-master. "He
is a Negro slave, his name is Friday, and he is fled among the crags
above the north shore. Nothing you can say will persuade him to yield
himself up. for he has no understanding of words or power of speech.
It will cost great effort to take him. Nevertheless, I beseech you to
send your men ashore again; inasmuch as Friday is a slave and a
child, it is our duty to care for him in all things, and not abandon
him to a solitude worse than death."
    'My
plea for Friday was heeded. A new party was sent ashore under the
command of the third mate, with orders by no means to harm Friday,
since he was a poor simpleton, but to effect what was needed to bring
him aboard. I offered to accompany the party, but Captain Smith would
not allow this.
    'So
I sat with the captain in his cabin and ate a plate of salt pork and
biscuit, very good after a year of fish, and drank a glass of
Madeira, and told him my story, as I have told it to you, which he
heard with great attention. "It is a story you should set down
in writing and offer to the booksellers," he urged -"There
has never before, to my knowledge, been a female castaway of our
nation. It will cause a great stir." I shook my head sadly. "As
I relate it to you, my story passes the time well enough," I
replied; "but what little I know of book-writing tells me its
charm will quite vanish when it is set down baldly in print. A
liveliness is lost in the writing down which must be supplied by art,
and I have no art." "As to art I cannot pronounce, being
only a sailor," said Captain Smith; "but you may depend on
it, the booksellers will hire a man to set your story to rights, and
put in a dash of colour too, here and there." "I will not
have any lies told," said I. The captain smiled. "There I
cannot vouch for them," he said: "their trade is in books,
not in truth." "I would rather be the author of my own
story than have lies told about me," I persisted -"If I
cannot come forward, as author, and swear to the truth of my tale,
what will be the worth of it? I might as well have dreamed it in a
snug bed in Chichester."
    'At
this juncture we were summoned above deck. The landing party was on
its way back, and to my joy I made out the dark figure of Friday
among the sailors. "Friday, Friday!" I called as the boat
came alongside, and smiled to show that all was well, the seamen were
friends, not foes. But when he was brought aboard Friday would not
meet my eye. With sunken shoulders and bowed head he awaited whatever
was to befall him. "Can he not be taken to his master?" I
asked the captain -"When he sees Mr Cruso is well cared for,
perhaps he will accept that we mean no harm."
    'So
while sail was hoisted and the head of the ship put about, I led
Friday below to the cabin where Cruso lay. "Here is your master,
Friday," I said. "He is sleeping, he has taken a sleeping
draught. You can see that these are good people. They will bring us
back to England, which is your master's home, and there you will be
set free. You will discover that life in England is better than life
ever was on the island."
    'I
knew of course that Friday did not understand the words. But it had
been my belief from early on that Friday understood tones, that he
could hear kindness in a