(Continuing from Part 47)
It was now eight days since the Spaniard and Friday’s father had left the island.
Friday and I were waiting for their return. Every day, we looked toward the mainland, hoping to see their canoe approaching.
One morning, while I was sleeping, Friday came running to wake me.
“Master! Master!” he cried. “They are come!”
I immediately rose.
I thought he meant that his father and the Spaniard had returned with the other Europeans.
I hurried outside and followed Friday to a place where we could look toward the sea.
But what I saw astonished me.
There was a large ship anchored near the island.
It was not a canoe.
It was a proper sailing ship, with tall masts and sails.
I could hardly believe my eyes.
For so many years, I had longed to see such a vessel.
Now one stood within reach of my shore.
I quickly took my telescope and examined it.
The ship appeared to be English.
My heart filled with excitement.
An English ship!
Perhaps my long captivity on the island was finally coming to an end.
But I did not allow my excitement to overcome my judgment.
I remembered that ships did not usually visit this part of the coast without some reason.
Why had this one anchored here?
Had it lost its way?
Did its crew need water?
Or had something happened aboard?
I watched carefully.
Soon I saw a boat leave the ship.
It was coming toward the island.
Several men were aboard.
As they approached, I counted eleven men.
I noticed that three of them appeared to be prisoners.
They were sitting together, while the others controlled the boat.
This immediately troubled me.
I wondered whether the prisoners were criminals being taken ashore for punishment.
Perhaps the ship had suffered a rebellion.
I could not yet understand what was happening.
I told Friday that we must remain hidden.
We went to a place among the trees where we could watch the visitors without being seen.
The boat approached the shore and entered a small creek.
The tide was high enough to allow it to come close to the beach.
The men landed.
Then I saw something that increased my concern.
The three prisoners were brought ashore under guard.
Their hands appeared to be bound, and they looked deeply unhappy.
One of them seemed especially distressed.
He raised his hands and looked toward the sky.
I could see that he was begging the others for mercy.
But the armed men paid little attention.
They spoke roughly and pushed the prisoners forward.
I began to suspect that the men were not carrying out any lawful punishment.
Their behavior was cruel and disorderly.
I looked again toward the ship.
It remained quietly at anchor.
I wondered whether its captain knew what was happening on shore.
Then another possibility entered my mind.
Perhaps the prisoners included the captain himself.
Perhaps the crew had rebelled and taken control of the vessel.
The thought seemed reasonable.
I had heard of such events during my years at sea.
Sailors sometimes rose against their officers, seized a ship, and turned to piracy.
If that had happened here, the prisoners might be in great danger.
I continued watching.
The men who had brought the prisoners ashore seemed uncertain what to do next.
Some argued among themselves.
Others wandered along the beach.
At last, they left the prisoners beneath a tree and moved away.
A few went farther inland.
Others returned toward the boat.
The three captives remained together.
They appeared exhausted and frightened.
I considered going to speak to them.
But I knew that approaching openly would be dangerous.
There were eight other men, and I did not know how many were armed.
Friday and I had weapons, but we could not safely fight a large group without a careful plan.
I decided to wait.
The sun was growing hot.
The visitors seemed tired after their journey.
Some lay down in the shade.
Others walked about without paying much attention to the prisoners.
I noticed that the boat had been left in the creek.
As the tide began to fall, it settled on the sand.
Soon it would be impossible to move until the water rose again.
This was important.
The men could not immediately return to their ship.
They would have to remain on the island for several hours.
I began to think that this delay might give us an opportunity.
The prisoners were not far from the trees.
If I could approach them unseen, I might learn what had happened.
But I needed to know whether they could be trusted.
I turned to Friday.
I explained that the men might be enemies of their own captain.
If this was true, we might be able to help the prisoners and perhaps gain possession of the ship.
Friday listened carefully.
He was ready to assist me.
I told him that we must act quietly.
We moved through the woods, keeping away from the men who were resting.
At last, we reached a place close to the three prisoners.
They were sitting together, speaking sadly.
I could hear their voices.
They were speaking English.
The sound affected me deeply.
I had not heard my native language spoken by another Englishman for more than twenty years.
For a moment, I could scarcely move.
I wanted to rush forward and greet them.
But I forced myself to remain cautious.
I listened.
Their words confirmed that they believed themselves abandoned.
They feared that the men who had brought them ashore intended to leave them on the island to die.
One of them spoke of his wife and children.
Another tried to comfort him, but his own voice was full of despair.
I could bear their suffering no longer.
I stepped forward from behind the trees.
The prisoners looked up in astonishment.
They had not expected to see anyone on the island.
My strange clothing and long beard must have made me appear almost as surprising as a creature from another world.
I spoke to them in English.
“Gentlemen,” I said, “what are you doing here?”
They stared at me.
For a moment, none of them answered.
Then one man rose slowly.
He looked at me as though he could not believe what he was seeing.
I understood his surprise.
A man dressed in goatskins, carrying weapons, had appeared from the woods and addressed him in his own language.
I told him not to be afraid.
I was an Englishman, and I wished to know whether I could help.
The man’s expression changed.
Hope appeared in his face.
He stepped toward me and began to explain his terrible situation.