In this strange group, there was a young French priest who did his best to soothe those round him, and I saw him go up to some of the crew, and say to them, "Why do you scream, and tear your hair, and wring your hands, my men? Let your joy be free and full, give it full range and scope, but leave off this trick of the hands, and lift them up in praise; let your voice swell out, not in screams, but in hymns of thanks to God, who has brought you out of so great a strait, for this will add peace to your joy."
The next day, they were all in a right frame of mind, so I gave them what stores I could spare, and put them on board a ship that we met with on her way to France, all save five who, with the priest, had a wish to join me.
But we had not set sail long, when we fell in with a ship that had been blown out to sea by a storm, and had lost her masts; and, worse than all, her crew had not had an ounce of meat or bread for ten days. I gave them all some food, which they ate like wolves in the snow, but I thought it best to check them, as I had fears that so much all at once would cause the death of some of them.
There were a youth and a young girl in the ship who the mate said he thought must be dead, but he had not had the heart to go near them, for the food was all gone. I found that they were faint for the want of it, and as it were in the jaws of death; but in a short time they both got well, and as they had no wish to go back to their ship, I took them with me. So now I had eight more on board my ship, than I had when I first set out.
In three months from the time when I left home, I came in sight of my isle, and I brought the ship safe up, by the side of the creek, which was near my old house.
I went up to Friday, to ask if he knew where he was. He took a look round him, and soon, with a clap of the hands, said "O yes! O there! O yes! O there!" Bye and bye, he set up a dance with such wild glee, that it was as much as I could do to keep him on deck. "Well, what think you, Friday?" said I; "shall we find those whom we left still here?—Shall we see poor old Jaf?" He stood quite mute for a while, but when I spoke of old Jaf (whose son Friday was), the tears ran down his face, and the poor soul was as sad as could be. "No, no," said he, "no more, no, no more."
As we caught sight of some men at the top of the hill, I gave word to fire three guns, to show that we were friends, and soon we saw smoke rise from the side of the creek. I then went on shore in a boat, with the priest and Friday, and hung out a white flag of peace. The first man I cast my eyes on at the creek, was my old friend Carl, who, when I was last on the isle, had been brought here in bonds.
I gave strict charge to the men in the boat not to go on shore, but Friday could not be kept back, for with his quick eye he had caught sight of old Jaf. It brought the tears to our eyes to see his joy when he met the old man. He gave him a kiss, took him up in his arms, set him down in the shade, then stood a short way off to look at him, as one would look at a work of art, then felt him with his hand, and all this time he was in full talk, and told him, one by one, all the strange tales of what he had seen since they had last met.
As to my friend Carl, he came up to me, and with much warmth shook my hands, and then took me to my old house, which he now gave up to me. I could no more have found the place, than if I had not been there at all. The rows of trees stood so thick and close, that the house could not be got at, save by such blind ways as none but those who made them could find out. "Why have you built all these forts?" said I. Carl told me that he felt sure I should say there was much need of them, when I heard how they had spent their time since they had come to the isle.
He brought twelve men to the spot where I stood, and said, "Sir, all these men owe their lives to you." Then, one by one, they came up to me, not as if they had been the mere crew of a ship, but like men of rank who had come to kiss the hand of their king.