The growing up of the corn, as is hinted in my Journal, had at first some little influence upon me, and began to affect me with seriousness, as long as I thought it had something miraculous in it; but as soon as ever that part of thought was removed, all the impression which was raised from it wore off also, as I have noted already.
Even the earthquake, though nothing could be more terrible in its nature, or more immediately directing to the invisible Power which alone directs such things; yet no sooner was the first fright over, but the impression it had made went off also. I had no more sense of God, or his judgments, much less of the present affliction of my circumstances being from his hand, than if I had been in the most prosperous condition of life.
But now, when I began to be sick, and a leisurely view of the miseries of death came to place itself before me; when my spirits began to sink under the burden of a strong distemper, and nature was exhausted with the violence of the fever; conscience, that had slept so long, began to awake, and I began to reproach myself with my past life, in which I had so evidently, by uncommon wickedness, provoked the justice of God to lay me under uncommon strokes, and to deal with me in so vindictive a manner.
These reflections oppressed me from the second or third day of my distemper, and in the violence, as well of the fever as of the dreadful reproaches of my conscience, extorted some words from me, like praying to God, though I cannot say they were either a prayer attended with desires, or with hopes; it was rather the voice of mere fright and distress; my thoughts were confused, the convictions great upon my mind, and the horror of dying in such a miserable condition, raised vapours into my head with the mere apprehensions; and, in these hurries of my soul, I knew not what my tongue might express: but it was rather exclamation, such as, “Lord! what a miserable creature am I! If I should be sick, I shall certainly die for want of help, and what will become of me!” Then the tears burst out of my eyes, and I could say no more for a good while.
In this interval, the good advice of my father came to my mind; and presently his prediction, which I mentioned in the beginning of this story, viz. that if I did take this foolish step, God would not bless me, and I would have leisure hereafter to reflect upon having neglected his counsel, when there might be none to assist in my recovery. “Now,” said I aloud, “my dear father’s words are come to pass: God’s justice has overtaken me, and I have none to help or hear me: I rejected the voice of Providence, which had mercifully put me in a posture or station of life wherein I might have been happy and easy; but I would neither see it myself, nor learn to know the blessing of it from my parents; I left them to mourn over my folly, and now I am left to mourn under the consequences of it: I refused their help and assistance, who would have lifted me into the world, and would have made every thing easy to me; and now I have difficulties to struggle with, too great for even nature itself to support, and no assistance, no help, no comfort, no advice.” Then I cried out, “Lord be my help, for I am in great distress!”
This was the first prayer, if I might call it so, that I had made for many years. But I return to my journal.
June 28. Having been somewhat refreshed with the sleep I had had, and the fit being entirely off, I got up: and though the fright and terror of my dream was very great, yet I considered, that the fit of the ague would return again the next day, and now was my time to get something to refresh and support myself when I should be ill; and the first thing I did, I filled a large square case-bottle with water, and set it upon my table, in reach of my bed; and to take off the chill or aguish disposition of the water, I put about a quarter of a pint of rum into it, and mixed them together; then I got me a piece of the goat’s flesh, and broiled it on the coals, but could eat very little. I walked about, but was very weak, and withal very sad and heavy-hearted under a sense of my miserable condition, dreading the return of my distemper the next day. At night I made my supper of three of the turtle’s eggs, which I roasted in the ashes, and ate, as we call it, in the shell; and this was the first bit of meat I had ever asked God’s blessing to, even, as I could remember, in my whole life.
After I had eaten I tried to walk; but found myself so weak, that I could hardly carry the gun (for I never went out without that): so I went but a little way, and sat down upon the ground, looking out upon the sea, which was just before me, and very calm and smooth. As I sat here, some such thoughts as these occurred to me:
What is the earth and sea, of which I have seen so much? Whence is it produced? And what am I, and all the other creatures, wild and tame, human and brutal? whence are we?
Sure we are all made by some secret Power, who formed the earth and sea, the air and sky; and who is that?