Some time after, (about the year 1665,) being at Leghorn, they were ordered to go a cruising; and one morning spied a great ship bearing down upon them, which they supposed to be a Spanish man of war. Presently orders were given to clear the ship for fight. Thomas then being upon the deck, saw plainly that a time of trial was now come, and he prayed to the Lord very earnestly for strength: and that which seemed most expedient to him, was to meet with his friends, which, after notice given, was done accordingly. Being all met, he told them how it was with him, and that things seemed very dark and cloudy, yet his hopes were, that the Lord would deliver him, and all such as were of his faith; to which he added, ‘I lay not this as an injunction upon any one, but leave you all to the Lord:’ moreover he said, ‘I must tell you, that the captain puts great confidence in you; therefore let us be careful that we give no just occasion; and all that are of my mind, let us meet in the most public place upon the deck, in the full view of the captain, that he may not say we deceived him, in not telling him that we would not fight, so that he might have put others in our room.’
Then Thomas went upon the deck, and set his back against the geer capstan, and a little after turning his head, he saw his friends behind him; at which though he rejoiced, yet his bowels rolled within him for them, who stood there as sheep ready for the slaughter. Within a little time came the lieutenant, and said to one of them, ‘Go down to thy quarters;’ to which he returned, ‘I can fight no more.’ The lieutenant then going to the captain, made the worst of it, saying, ‘Yonder the Quakers are all together; and I do not know but they will mutiny; and one says he cannot fight.’ The captain having asked his name, came down to him, flung his hat overboard, and taking hold of his collar, beat him with a great cane, and dragged him down to his quarters. Then he went upon the half deck again, and called for his sword, which his man having brought him, he drew with great fury. No sooner was this done, but the word of the Lord, (as Thomas took it,) run through him, saying, ‘The sword of the Lord is over him; and if he will have a sacrifice, proffer it him.’ And this word was so powerful in him, that he quivered and shook, though he endeavoured to stop it, fearing they should think he was afraid, which he was not; for turning his head over his shoulder, he said to his friend Roger, ‘I must go to the captain.’ To which he returned, ‘Be well satisfied in what thou doest.’ And Thomas replied, there was a necessity upon him. Then seeing the captain coming on with his drawn sword, he fixed his eye with great seriousness upon him, and stepped towards him, keeping his eyes upon him, (in much dread of the Lord,) being carried above his furious looks. At which the captain’s countenance changed pale, and he, turning himself about, called to his man to take away his sword, and so he went off. Not long after, the ship they expected to fight withal, proved to be a Genoese, their friend; and before night, the captain sent the priest to Thomas, to excuse his anger, it having been in his passion. To which Thomas’s answer was, that he had nothing but good will to him; and he bade the priest tell the captain, that he must have a care of such passions; for if he killed a man in his passion, he might seek for repentance, and perhaps not find it. Thus Thomas overcame this storm, and at length got safe home.
Now leaving men of war, he afterwards went to sea in a merchantman, or trading ship: but then it fell to be his lot several times to be pressed into the king’s service, and being carried into a man of war, he suffered very much. Once he fasted five days, taking only at times a draught of water; for he could easily guess, that if he had eaten of their victuals, it would have gone the harder with him; since he scrupled to do any ship-work, though it did not belong to fighting; for he judged all this to be assistance to those whose business it was to fight; and that therefore in such a ship he could do nothing, whatever it was, but it was being helpful and assisting.
In this condition he met with several rude occurrences for some years together. Being once at Harwich, hard at work in a ship, heaving out corn in a lighter, he was pressed; but one of the men saying, that he was a Quaker, the captain, who with his boat was come aboard, said in a scoffing manner to him, ‘Thou art no Quaker, for if thou wast a Quaker, thou shouldst be waiting upon the Lord, and let his ravens feed thee, and not be toiling thy body.’ For Thomas being stripped to his shirt and drawers, his shirt was wet with sweat; and being a little time silent, said at length to the captain, ‘I perceive thou hast read some part of the scriptures. Didst thou never read, that he is worse than an infidel that will not provide for his family? I have often heard the Quakers blamed for not working, but thou art the first that ever I heard blame them for working.’ At this the captain said, ‘Turn him away, he is a Quaker.’ But a little after he cried, ‘Pull him again, he is no Quaker;’ and said to Thomas, ‘Thou art no Quaker; for here thou bringest corn, and of it is made bread, and by the strength of that bread we kill the Dutch; and therefore no Quaker. Or art not thou as accessary to their deaths as we? Answer me.’ Thomas not presently answering, was much scoffed and jeered by the seamen; but at length he said to the captain, ‘I am a man that can feed my enemies, and well may I you, who pretend to be my friends.’ To which the captain replied, ‘Turn him away, he is a Quaker:’ and thus that storm ceased.
But a few days after he was pressed again out of the same vessel, and carried on board a man of war; there he was ordered to go into the cabin, where the captain and several officers were; and being entered, the captain began to curse the Quakers, and swore, that if he did not hang Thomas, he would carry him to the duke of York, and he would. But Thomas said very little, and felt himself kept by the Lord from fear. And when the captain had tired himself with scolding and railing, he said more mildly, ‘What, dost thou say nothing for thyself?’ To which Thomas answered, ‘Thou sayest enough for thee and me too:’ and he found it most safe to say little. This was indeed the best way; for generally no reasons, how good soever, avail with passionate men; who often think it a disparagement to them, when they hearken to what is said by one they look upon to be their inferior. But such sometimes find they reckon amiss; as this captain did, who, notwithstanding his haughtiness, was soon struck by a superior power; for the next night a sudden cry was heard, ‘Where is the Quaker? Where is the Quaker?’ Thomas hearing this, said, ‘Here I am: what lack you at this time of the night?’ To which it was told him, ‘You must come to the captain presently.’ He then coming to the cabin door, the captain said, ‘Is the Quaker there?’ To which Thomas having answered, ‘Yes,’ the captain said, ‘I cannot sleep, thou must go on shore.’ Thomas replied, ‘I am in thy hand, and thou mayest do with me as thou pleasest.’ So with the boat he was put on shore at Harwich, by order of the captain, who in his fury had said, that hanging was too good for him. But now, because his mind was disquieted, he could not sleep, though Thomas, who lay on the hard boards, slept very well.
Having said thus much of this seaman: let us now take a view, and behold how, and in what an industrious manner, he, without passing the bounds of a peaceable disposition, retook a ship that was taken by a pirate; which happened in the year 1663, after this manner:
A master of a ship, whose name was George Pattison, one of the society of those called Quakers, about the month of October, being with his ship in the Mediterranean, coming from Venice, near the island of Majorca, was chased by a pirate of Algiers, and their vessel sailing well, they endeavoured to escape; but, by carrying over-much sail, some of their materials gave way, by which means the Turks came up with them, and commanded the master on board, who accordingly, with four men more, went in his boat, leaving only his mate, (the before-mentioned Thomas Lurting,) with three men and a boy on board his vessel, as soon as those came on board the pirate, the Turks put thirteen or fourteen of their men into the boat, to go towards the English ship. In the meanwhile the mate was under great exercise of mind, the rather because the master, with four of his men, were then with the Turks, and those that were left, were somewhat unruly. In this concern, however, he believed it was told him inwardly by the Lord, ‘Be not afraid, for thou shalt not go to Algiers:’ for having had formerly great experience of the Lord’s deliverances, as hath been said above, he had already learned to trust in God, almost against hope. On the consideration of this, all fear was removed from him; and going to the ship’s side to see the Turks come in, he received them as if they were his friends, and they also behaved themselves civilly: then he showed them all the parts of the vessel, and what she was laden with. Afterwards he said to the men that were with him, ‘Be not afraid, for all this we shall not go to Algiers: but let me desire you, as ye have been willing to obey me, to be as willing now to obey the Turks.’ This they promised him, and by so doing, he soon perceived they gained upon the Turks; for they seeing the seamen’s diligence, grew the more careless and favourable to them. And having taken some small matter of the lading, some went again to their own ship, and eight Turks staid with the English.
Then the mate began to think of the master, and the other four that were in the Turk’s ship; as for himself, and the others with him, he had no fear at all; nay, he was so far from it, that he said to one of his men, ‘Were but the master on board, and the rest of our men, if there were twice as many Turks, I should not fear them.’ By this he encouraged the seamen, who not being of his persuasion, thought much otherwise than he, and would have been ready enough to have killed the Turks, if they had seen opportunity. In the meanwhile the mate’s earnest desire to the Lord was, that he would put it into the heart of the Turks, to send the master and the four others back. And his desire was answered; for soon after the master and those men were sent on board.
Then all manner of fear concerning going to Algiers was taken away from him; which made some say to him, he was a strange man, since he was afraid before he was taken, but now he was not. For before they were taken, he having heard there were many Turks at sea, endeavoured to persuade the master to have gone to Leghorn, and there to stay for a convoy, and so long they would have no wages. But to this the master would not agree. Now the mate, to answer the seamen, who blamed his behaviour, said to them, ‘I now believe I shall not go to Algiers: and if ye will be ruled by me, I will act for your delivery, as well as my own.’ However, though he spoke thus boldly, yet he saw no way for it; for the Turks were all armed, and the English without arms. Now these being altogether, except the master, he said to them, ‘What if we should overcome the Turks, and go to Majorca.’ At which they very much rejoiced, and one said, ‘I will kill one or two;’ ‘And I,’ said another, ‘will cut as many of their throats as you will have me.’ But at these sayings the mate was much troubled, for he intended not to hurt any, and therefore told the men, ‘If I knew that any of you would touch a Turk at that rate, I would tell it the Turks myself. But,’ said he, ‘if ye will be ruled, I will act for you; if not, I will be still.’ They seeing that he would not suffer them to take their own course, agreed to do what he would have them. ‘Well,’ said he, ‘if the Turks bid you do any thing, do it without grumbling, and with as much diligence and quickness as ye can, for that pleases them, and will cause them to let us be together.’ To this the men all agreed; and then he went to the master, and told him their intention. But his answer was, ‘If we offer to rise, and they overcome us, we had as good be burnt alive.’ The mate knew very well the master was in the right, viz. that if they failed in the attempt, they were like to meet with the most cruel treatment from the Turks that could be thought of. Now the reason why the master, though a very bold spirited man, did not readily consent to the proposal, was, because he feared they would shed blood, but his mate told him, they were resolved, and he questioned not but to do it, without shedding one drop of blood; and besides, he would rather have gone to Algiers, than to kill one Turk. Speaking thus, he so swayed the master, that at last he agreed to let him do what he would, provided they killed none.