discharged from it, and desire me to undertake it, I will most
readily do it, and think it a happy reward for all the hazards and
difficulties of such a broken, disappointed voyage as I have met
with, that I am dropped at last into so glorious a work.”
I discovered a kind of rapture in his face while he spoke this to
me; his eyes sparkled like fire; his face glowed, and his colour
came and went; in a word, he was fired with the joy of being
embarked in such a work. I paused a considerable while before I
could tell what to say to him; for I was really surprised to find a
man of such sincerity, and who seemed possessed of a zeal beyond
the ordinary rate of men. But after I had considered it a while, I
asked him seriously if he was in earnest, and that he would
venture, on the single consideration of an attempt to convert those
poor people, to be locked up in an unplanted island for perhaps his
life, and at last might not know whether he should be able to do
them good or not? He turned short upon me, and asked me what I
called a venture? “Pray, sir,” said he, “what do you think I
consented to go in your ship to the East Indies for?” – “ay,” said
I, “that I know not, unless it was to preach to the Indians.” –
“Doubtless it was,” said he; “and do you think, if I can convert
these thirty-seven men to the faith of Jesus Christ, it is not
worth my time, though I should never be fetched off the island
again? – nay, is it not infinitely of more worth to save so many
souls than my life is, or the life of twenty more of the same
profession? Yes, sir,” says he, “I would give God thanks all my
days if I could be made the happy instrument of saving the souls of
those poor men, though I were never to get my foot off this island
or see my native country any more. But since you will honour me
with putting me into this work, for which I will pray for you all
the days of my life, I have one humble petition to you besides.” –
“What is that?” said I. – “Why,” says he, “it is, that you will
leave your man Friday with me, to be my interpreter to them, and to
assist me; for without some help I cannot speak to them, or they to
me.”
I was sensibly touched at his requesting Friday, because I could
not think of parting with him, and that for many reasons: he had
been the companion of my travels; he was not only faithful to me,
but sincerely affectionate to the last degree; and I had resolved
to do something considerable for him if he out-lived me, as it was
probable he would. Then I knew that, as I had bred Friday up to be
a Protestant, it would quite confound him to bring him to embrace
another religion; and he would never, while his eyes were open,
believe that his old master was a heretic, and would be damned; and
this might in the end ruin the poor fellow’s principles, and so
turn him back again to his first idolatry. However, a sudden
thought relieved me in this strait, and it was this: I told him I
could not say that I was willing to part with Friday on any account
whatever, though a work that to him was of more value than his life
ought to be of much more value than the keeping or parting with a
servant. On the other hand, I was persuaded that Friday would by
no means agree to part with me; and I could not force him to it
without his consent, without manifest injustice; because I had
promised I would never send him away, and he had promised and
engaged that he would never leave me, unless I sent him away.
He seemed very much concerned at it, for he had no rational access
to these poor people, seeing he did not understand one word of