CHAPTER IX.
A fter I had stood a while in the utmost confusion of thought, and my spirits began to be a little composed, I was resolved to see what damage the hull of the ship had received. Accordingly I looked narrowly, but could find none, only she was immovably fixed in a cleft of the rock, like a large archway, and there stuck so fast, that though upon fathoming I could find no bottom, she never moved in the least by the working of the water.
I now began to look upon Adams as a happy man, being delivered by an immediate death from such an inextricable scene of distress, and wished myself with him a thousand times. I had a great mind to have followed him into the other world; yet I know not how it is, there is something so abhorrent to human nature in self-murder, be one's condition what it will, that I was soon determined on the contrary side. Now again I perceived that the Almighty had given me a large field to expatiate in upon the trial of His creatures, by bringing them into imminent dangers ready to overwhelm them, and at the same time, as it were, hanging out the flag of truce and mercy to them. These thoughts brought me to my knees, and I poured out my soul to God in a strain of humiliation, resignation to His will, and earnest petitions for deliverance or support in this distress. Having finished, I found myself in a more composed frame; so having eaten a biscuit and drank a can of water, and not seeing anything to be done whereby I could better my condition, I sat me down upon the deck, and fell into the following soliloquy—
Peter, says I, what have you to do here?—Alas! replied I to myself, I am fixed against my will in this dismal mansion, destined, as rats might be, to devour the provisions only, and having eaten all up, to perish with hunger for want of a supply.—Then, says I, of what use are you in the world, Peter?—Truly, answered I, of no other use that I can see but to be an object of misery for Divine vengeance to work upon, and to show what a deplorable state human nature can be reduced to; for I cannot think any one else can be so wretched.—And again, Peter, says I, what have you been doing ever since you came into the world?—I am afraid, says I, I can answer no better to this question than to either of the former; for if only reasonable actions are to be reckoned among my doings, I am sure I have done little worth recording; for let me see what it all amounts to. I spent my first sixteen years in making a fool of my mother; my three next in letting her make a fool of me, and in being fool enough myself to get me a wife and two children before I was twenty. The next year was spent in finding out the misery of slavery from experience. Two years more I repined at the happiness of my benefactor, and at finding it was not my lot to enjoy the same. This year is not yet spent, and how many more are to come, and where they may be passed, and what they may produce, requires a better head than mine even to guess at; but certainly my present situation seems to promise nothing beside woe and misery.—But hold a little, says I, and let me clearly state my own wretchedness. I am here, it is true; but for any good I have ever done or any advantage I have reaped in other places, I am as well here as anywhere. I have no present want of food or unjust or cruel enemy to annoy me; so as long as the ship continues entire and provisions last, I shall do tolerably. Then why should I grieve or terrify myself about what may come? What my frighted imagination suggests may perhaps never happen. Deliverance, though not to be looked for, is yet possible; and my future fate may be as different from my present condition as this is from the hopes with which I lately flattered myself. And why, after all, may I not die a natural death here as well as anywhere? All mankind die, and then there is an end of all——An end of all! did I say? No, there is something within that gives me the lie when I say so. Let me see; Death, my master used to say, is not an end, but a beginning of real life: and may it not be so? May I not as well undergo a change from this to a different state of life when I leave this world, as be born into it I know not from whence? Who sent me into this world? Who framed me of two natures so unlike, that death cannot destroy but one of them? It must be the Almighty God. But all God's works tend to some end; and if He has given me an immortal nature, it must be His intention that I should live somewhere and somehow for ever. May not this stage of being then be only an introduction to a preparative for another? There is nothing in this supposition repugnant to reason. Upon the whole, if God is the author of my being, He only has a right to dispose of it, and I may not put an end thereto without His leave. It is no less true that my continuing therein during His pleasure, and because it is so, may turn vastly to my advantage in His good time; it may be the means of my becoming happy for even when it is His will that I go hence. It is no less probable that, dismal as my present circumstances appear, I may be even now the object of a kind Providence: God may be leading me by affliction to repentance of former crimes; destroying those sensual affections that have all my days kept me from loving and serving Him. I will therefore submit myself to His will, and hope for His mercy.
These thoughts, and many others I then had, composed me very much, and by degrees reconciled me to my destined solitude. I walked my ship, of which I was now both master and owner, and employed myself in searching how it was fastened to the rock, and where it rested; but all to no purpose as to that particular. I then struck a light and went into the hold, to see what I could find useful, for we had never searched the ship since we took her.
In the hold I found abundance of long iron bars, which I suppose were brought out to be trafficked with the blacks. I observed they lay all with one end close to the head of the ship, which I presumed was occasioned by the violent shock they received when she struck against the rock; but seeing one short bar lying out beyond the rest, though touching at the end of one of the long bars, I thought to take it up, and lay it on the heap with the others; but the moment I had raised the end next the other bars, it flew out of my hand with such violence, against the head of the ship, and with such a noise, as greatly surprised me, and put me in fear it had broke through the plank.
I just stayed to see no harm was done, and ran upon deck with my hair stiff on my head; nor could I conceive less than that some subtle spirit had done this prank merely to terrify me.
It ran in my pate several days, and I durst upon no account have gone into the hold again, though my whole support had lain there; nay, it even spoiled my rest, for fear something tragical should befall me, of which this amazing incident was an omen.
About a week after, as I was shifting myself (for I had not taken my clothes off since I came there), and putting on a new pair of shoes which I found on board, my own being very bad, taking out my iron buckles, I laid one of them upon a broken piece of the mast that I sat upon; when to my astonishment, it was no sooner out of my hand but up it flew to the rock and stuck there. I could not tell what to make of it, but was sorry the devil had got above deck. I then held several other things one after another in my hand, and laid them down where I laid the buckle, but nothing stirred till I took out the fellow of that from the shoes; when letting it go away, it jumped also to the rock.