“they are not bought with your money; you have no right to make
them servants.” The Englishman answered, “The island was theirs;
the governor had given it to them, and no man had anything to do
there but themselves;” and with that he swore that he would go and
burn all their new huts; they should build none upon their land.
“Why, seignior,” says the Spaniard, “by the same rule, we must be
your servants, too.” “Ay,” returned the bold dog, “and so you
shall, too, before we have done with you;” mixing two or three
oaths in the proper intervals of his speech. The Spaniard only
smiled at that, and made him no answer. However, this little
discourse had heated them; and starting up, one says to the other.
(I think it was he they called Will Atkins), “Come, Jack, let’s go
and have t’other brush with them; we’ll demolish their castle, I’ll
warrant you; they shall plant no colony in our dominions.”
Upon this they were all trooping away, with every man a gun, a
pistol, and a sword, and muttered some insolent things among
themselves of what they would do to the Spaniards, too, when
opportunity offered; but the Spaniards, it seems, did not so
perfectly understand them as to know all the particulars, only that
in general they threatened them hard for taking the two
Englishmen’s part. Whither they went, or how they bestowed their
time that evening, the Spaniards said they did not know; but it
seems they wandered about the country part of the night, and them
lying down in the place which I used to call my bower, they were
weary and overslept themselves. The case was this: they had
resolved to stay till midnight, and so take the two poor men when
they were asleep, and as they acknowledged afterwards, intended to
set fire to their huts while they were in them, and either burn
them there or murder them as they came out. As malice seldom
sleeps very sound, it was very strange they should not have been
kept awake. However, as the two men had also a design upon them,
as I have said, though a much fairer one than that of burning and
murdering, it happened, and very luckily for them all, that they
were up and gone abroad before the bloody-minded rogues came to
their huts.
When they came there, and found the men gone, Atkins, who it seems
was the forwardest man, called out to his comrade, “Ha, Jack,
here’s the nest, but the birds are flown.” They mused a while, to
think what should be the occasion of their being gone abroad so
soon, and suggested presently that the Spaniards had given them
notice of it; and with that they shook hands, and swore to one
another that they would be revenged of the Spaniards. As soon as
they had made this bloody bargain they fell to work with the poor
men’s habitation; they did not set fire, indeed, to anything, but
they pulled down both their houses, and left not the least stick
standing, or scarce any sign on the ground where they stood; they
tore all their household stuff in pieces, and threw everything
about in such a manner, that the poor men afterwards found some of
their things a mile off. When they had done this, they pulled up
all the young trees which the poor men had planted; broke down an
enclosure they had made to secure their cattle and their corn; and,
in a word, sacked and plundered everything as completely as a horde
of Tartars would have done.
The two men were at this juncture gone to find them out, and had
resolved to fight them wherever they had been, though they were but
two to three; so that, had they met, there certainly would have
been blood shed among them, for they were all very stout, resolute
fellows, to give them their due.
But Providence took more care to keep them asunder than they
themselves could do to meet; for, as if they had dogged one
another, when the three were gone thither, the two were here; and
afterwards, when the two went back to find them, the three were