They hallooed again, and called their two comrades by their names a great many times; but no answer. After some time we could see them, by the little light there was, run about, wringing their hands like men in despair, and that sometimes they would go and sit down in the boat to rest themselves; then come ashore again, and walk about again, and so the same thing over again.
My men would fain have me give them leave to fall upon them at once in the dark; but I was willing to take them at some advantage, so to spare them, and kill as few of them as I could; and especially I was unwilling to hazard the killing any of our own men, knowing the others were very well armed. I resolved to wait, to see if they did not separate; and, therefore, to make sure of them, I drew my ambuscade nearer, and ordered Friday and the captain to creep upon their hands and feet, as close to the ground as they could, that they might not be discovered, and get as near them as they could possibly, before they offered to fire.
They had not been long in that posture but that the boatswain, who was the principal ringleader of the mutiny, and had now shown himself the most dejected and dispirited of all the rest, came walking towards them, with two more of their crew. The captain was so eager, as having this principal rogue so much in his power, that he could hardly have patience to let him come so near as to be sure of him, for they only heard his tongue before; but when they came nearer, the captain and Friday, starting up on their feet, let fly at them.
The boatswain was killed upon the spot; the next man was shot into the body, and fell just by him, though he did not die till an hour or two after; and the third ran for it.
At the noise of the fire I immediately advanced with my whole army, which was now eight men, viz., myself, generalissimo; Friday, my lieutenant-general; the captain and his two men, and the three prisoners of war, whom we had trusted with arms.
We came upon them, indeed, in the dark, so that they could not see our number; and I made the man we had left in the boat, who was now one of us, call to them by name, to try if I could bring them to a parley, and so might perhaps reduce them to terms, which fell out just as we desired; for indeed it was easy to think, as their condition then was, they would be very willing to capitulate. So he calls out as loud as he could to one of them, “Tom Smith! Tom Smith!” Tom Smith answered immediately, “Who’s that? Robinson?” For it seems he knew his voice. The other answered, “Ay, ay; for God’s sake, Tom Smith, throw down your arms and yield, or you are all dead men this moment.”
“Who must we yield to? Where are they?” says Smith again. “Here they are,” says he; “here’s our captain, and fifty men with him, have been hunting you this two hours; the boatswain is killed, Will Frye is wounded, and I am a prisoner; and if you do not yield, you are all lost.”
“Will they give us quarter then,” says Tom Smith, “and we will yield?” “I’ll go and ask, if you promise to yield,” says Robinson. So he asked the captain, and the captain then calls himself out, “You, Smith, you know my voice, if you lay down your arms immediately, and submit, you shall have your lives, all but Will Atkins.”
CHAPTER XXVII
Atkins Entreats the Captain to Spare His Life—The Latter Recovers His Vessel from the Mutineers, and Robinson Leaves the Island
Upon this Will Atkins cried out, “For God’s sake, captain, give me quarter; what have I done? They have been all as bad as I”; which, by the way, was not true neither; for, it seems, this Will Atkins was the first man that laid hold of the captain when they first mutinied, and used him barbarously, in tying his hands, and giving him injurious language. However, the captain told him he must lay down his arms at discretion, and trust to the governor’s mercy; by which he meant me, for they all called me governor.