After this brief pause, we continued southward for another ten or twelve days. We lived very sparingly on our provisions, which were beginning to deplete rapidly, and we only went ashore when it was absolutely necessary to find fresh water. My plan was to reach the Gambia or Senegal River—anywhere near Cape Verde—where I hoped to encounter a European ship. If I failed in this, I had no idea what to do, other than to search for the islands or perish among the inhabitants of the coast. I knew that all European ships sailing to Guinea, Brazil, or the East Indies passed this cape or these islands. In short, I staked my entire fortune on this single hope: either I would find a ship, or I would die.
After pursuing this course for about ten more days, I began to see that the land was inhabited. In several places, as we sailed past, we saw people standing on the shore to watch us; they were quite black and wore no clothing. I was tempted to go ashore, but Xury, being a wiser counselor, warned me against it. However, I steered the boat closer so that I might communicate with them, and they ran along the beach beside us for a considerable distance. I noticed they carried no weapons, except for one man who held a long, slender stick. Xury identified this as a lance and told me they could throw them with great accuracy over long distances.
Keeping a safe distance, I communicated with them through signs, making it clear that we needed food. They signaled for me to stop the boat and indicated they would fetch us something to eat. I lowered my sail and waited. Two of them ran inland and returned in less than half an hour with dried meat and corn, which were local products. Although we did not recognize the food, we were eager to accept it. A problem arose, however, regarding how to receive it; I was afraid to go ashore, and they were just as afraid of us. Eventually, they settled the matter by laying the food on the sand and retreating a great distance until we had hauled it on board. Once we were back in the boat, they returned to the water's edge.
We made signs of gratitude, though we had nothing to give them in return. At that very moment, however, an opportunity arose to do them a great service. Two enormous creatures came rushing from the mountains toward the sea, one chasing the other with immense fury. We could not tell if they were fighting or merely playing, but the local people were terrified, especially the women. The man with the lance stood his ground while the others fled. The creatures plunged into the sea to cool themselves and began to swim about. One of them started swimming toward our boat. I was ready for him, having loaded my gun with great speed. As soon as he was within range, I fired and shot him directly in the head. He sank immediately, then rose again, struggling for life, before finally dying just as he reached the shore.
It is impossible to describe the astonishment of these poor people at the noise and flash of my gun. Some were so terrified they fell to the ground as if they were dead. But when they saw the creature was killed and I signaled for them to approach, they took heart. With the help of a rope, we hauled the animal onto the beach. It was a magnificent leopard, with a beautifully spotted hide. The negroes were in awe, wondering what kind of weapon had killed such a beast.
The other creature, frightened by the explosion, swam back to shore and fled into the mountains. I realized the negroes wanted to eat the leopard's flesh, so I signaled that they could have it as a gift. They were incredibly thankful and immediately began to skin it using only a sharpened piece of wood. They offered me some of the meat, which I declined, but I signaled that I wanted the skin. They gave it to me willingly and brought me more provisions. I then showed them an empty jar to indicate we needed water. Two women brought a large earthen vessel, which I used to fill my jars.
Equipped with water and roots, I sailed on for eleven more days. Finally, I saw land stretching far out into the sea—this was Cape Verde. To seaward, I could see the Cape Verde Islands. However, they were still far off, and I was in a dilemma; if a strong wind caught us, I might not reach either the islands or the coast.
As I sat in the cabin, lost in thought, Xury suddenly cried out, "Master, master, a ship with a sail!" The boy was terrified, thinking it was one of our former master’s ships sent to capture us, but I knew we were far beyond their reach. I jumped out and saw a Portuguese vessel. I realized she was not heading for the coast, so I steered out to sea as fast as possible, desperate to signal her.
I feared I would not reach her path in time, but the crew spotted my boat through their telescopes. Assuming it was a survivor from a shipwreck, they slowed down. I waved my master’s flag as a signal of distress and fired a gun. They saw the smoke and kindly waited for me. Three hours later, I reached them. They spoke to me in Portuguese, Spanish, and French, none of which I understood, until a Scottish sailor on board called out to me. I told him I was an Englishman who had escaped from slavery in Sallee. They kindly took me and all my belongings on board.
My joy at being rescued from such a hopeless condition was indescribable. I offered everything I owned to the captain as a reward, but he generously refused. "I have saved your life," he said, "just as I would want to be saved myself. One day, I might be in the same situation. Furthermore, if I take what you have, you will starve when we reach Brazil. No, Mr. Englishman, I will carry you there out of charity."
He was as good as his word and ordered the sailors not to touch any of my things. He took everything into his possession and gave me a detailed list so that I might get everything back, even my three earthen jars. He also offered to buy my boat for eighty "pieces of eight" and offered me another sixty for Xury. I was very reluctant to sell the boy’s liberty, as he had helped me escape. The captain, recognizing my concern, offered a compromise: he would give Xury a contract for his freedom in ten years, provided he became a Christian. Since Xury was willing, I agreed.
After a twenty-two-day voyage, we arrived in All Saints' Bay in Brazil. I was once again a free man, and I had to consider my future. The captain’s generosity was remarkable; he paid me for the leopard and lion skins and returned every item I had on the ship. In total, I had about 220 pieces of eight to start my new life.
I was soon introduced to an honest man who owned a sugar plantation and factory. I lived with him for a while and learned how to grow sugar. Seeing how wealthy the planters became, I resolved to become one myself. I obtained a letter of naturalization and purchased as much undeveloped land as my money allowed.
My neighbor was a Portuguese man born of English parents named Wells. We became good friends and worked together. For the first two years, we planted mostly food to survive, but by the third year, our land was in order and we began to plant tobacco. However, we were short of labor, and I realized now, more than ever, the mistake I had made in parting with Xury.
I found myself in a strange situation. I had entered a profession that was entirely contrary to the adventurous life I had craved. In fact, I was entering that very "middle station" of life that my father had recommended. I often told myself that I could have lived this quiet, hardworking life in England just as well as here, five thousand miles away among strangers in a wilderness. I looked upon my lonely condition with deep regret, having no one to talk to except my neighbor. I used to say I lived like a man cast away on a desolate island. It is a bitter irony that Heaven eventually granted me that very fate, forcing me to experience true desolation as a punishment for my complaints.
Before the Portuguese captain sailed back to Europe, he gave me some excellent advice. He suggested that I write to the widow in London and ask her to send half of my remaining money to Lisbon in the form of English goods suitable for Brazil. He argued that if the ship were lost, I would still have the other half of my capital. I followed his advice.
When the goods arrived a year later, I felt my fortune was made. The captain had not only brought the goods I requested but had also thoughtfully included tools, ironwork, and utensils necessary for the plantation. He had even used a small gift from the widow to bring me a servant on a six-year contract. My English cloths and manufactured goods were highly valuable in Brazil, and I sold them for a massive profit. I was now far wealthier than my neighbor. I bought a negro slave and another European servant.
However, success often leads to pride and greed. The following year, my plantation was thriving; I had produced fifty large rolls of high-quality tobacco. As my wealth increased, my head became full of projects that were beyond my reach. Had I stayed in my current position, I would have been happy and prosperous. But I was still the architect of my own misery. I could not be content with a steady, successful life. I was driven by a rash desire to get rich faster than nature allowed, and so I cast myself into the deepest gulf of human misery.
After living in Brazil for nearly four years and becoming fluent in the language, I had made many friends among the planters and merchants. I often told them about my voyages to Guinea and how easy it was to trade trifles—beads, knives, and scissors—for gold dust and slaves. They listened with great interest, especially regarding the slaves, who were very expensive and difficult to obtain legally at that time.
One morning, three of my friends came to me with a secret proposal. They wanted to fit out a ship for a private voyage to Guinea to bring back slaves for their own plantations. They asked if I would go as the "supercargo"—the person in charge of the trade—and offered me an equal share of the slaves without me having to provide any money for the ship.
This was a tempting offer, but for a man who already had a successful plantation, it was a foolish decision. If I had stayed for another three or four years, I would have been worth three or four thousand pounds. To risk everything on such a voyage was irrational. But I could no more resist the offer than I could resist my first impulse to run away from home. I agreed to go, provided they looked after my plantation in my absence. I even wrote a formal will, leaving everything to the Portuguese captain in case of my death.
I took every precaution to preserve my property, but I used no common sense regarding my own safety. I blindly obeyed my imagination rather than my reason. On the 1st of September, 1659—exactly eight years to the day after I had first left home—I stepped on board.
Our ship was about 120 tons, carrying six guns and fourteen men. We set sail and headed north along the coast, intending to cross over to Africa. The weather was excessively hot. We passed the equator and were at seven degrees north latitude when a violent hurricane struck us. For twelve days, we were helpless, driven by the fury of the storm. Every day, we expected to be swallowed by the sea. During this time, one man died of fever, and a man and a boy were washed overboard.
When the storm finally eased, the captain calculated that we were near the coast of Guiana, beyond the Amazon River. The ship was leaking and badly damaged. He wanted to return to Brazil, but I was against it. We decided to head for Barbados, hoping to reach it in fifteen days to repair the ship.
However, as we reached twelve degrees latitude, a second storm hit us with equal force. It drove us westward, far away from any trade routes. Early one morning, a sailor cried out, "Land!" We rushed out of the cabin, but the ship struck a sandbank. The motion stopped so suddenly that the sea broke over us with terrifying force. We were forced into the cabin to avoid being washed away.
We were in total consternation. We had no idea where we were or if the land was inhabited. The wind was so strong that we knew the ship would soon break into pieces. We sat looking at one another, expecting death at any moment. To our surprise, the ship held together, and the captain said the wind was finally decreasing.
However, since we were stuck fast in the sand, we had to think of a way to save our lives. Our small boat had already been destroyed by the storm. We had another boat on board, and the crew managed to lower it over the side. All eleven of us climbed in and committed ourselves to the mercy of the wild sea.
The situation was desperate. The waves were so high that we knew the boat could not survive. We rowed toward the land with heavy hearts, like men being led to their execution. We knew that when we got closer to the shore, the breaking waves would dash the boat to pieces.
After we had rowed for about a league and a half, a mountainous wave came rolling toward us from behind. It struck us with such fury that it overturned the boat instantly. We were all swallowed by the sea in a second.
I cannot describe the confusion I felt as I sank. I was a good swimmer, but I could not catch my breath. The wave carried me a vast distance toward the shore and then retreated, leaving me gasping on the sand, half-dead from the water I had swallowed. I realized I was closer to the mainland than I had expected. I got to my feet and tried to run inland before the next wave returned, but I saw the sea coming after me like a great hill. I held my breath and tried to float as the water buried me thirty feet deep. I felt myself being carried with incredible force.
Twice more I was lifted by the waves and carried forward. The last time was nearly fatal; the sea dashed me against a piece of rock with such force that I was knocked unconscious. The blow to my chest took my breath away. Fortunately, I recovered just before the next wave arrived and held onto the rock with all my strength. When the water retreated, I ran again and finally reached the cliffs of the mainland. I sat down on the grass, safe at last.
I looked up and thanked God that my life was saved when there had been no hope just minutes before. I walked about the shore, overwhelmed with emotion, reflecting on my comrades who had all drowned. I was the only soul saved. I looked out at the stranded ship, which was so far away in the foam that I could hardly see it, and wondered how it was possible that I had reached the shore.
But my joy soon turned to fear. I was soaking wet, had no change of clothes, and nothing to eat or drink. I had no weapon to hunt for food or to defend myself against wild beasts. I had nothing but a knife, a pipe, and a little tobacco. This threw me into a state of agony, and I ran about like a madman. As night approached, I grew terrified of predators.
The only solution I could find was to climb into a thick, thorny tree. I walked a short distance and found some fresh water to drink, which was a great relief. I put some tobacco in my mouth to dull my hunger, climbed into the tree, and used a short stick for defense. Exhausted by the day's events, I fell into a deep, comfortable sleep.