While we were occupied with our preparations, we used our combined strength to heave the first boat so high upon the beach that the tide could not possibly wash it away. Furthermore, we had already smashed a hole in its bottom that was far too large to be easily repaired. As we sat down to consider our next move, we heard a gun fire from the ship. Looking through my telescope, I saw them waving their ensign as a signal for the boat to return—but, of course, no boat moved. They fired several more times, making various signals, but all were in vain. Finally, when they realized the boat was not coming, we saw them hoist another boat out and begin rowing toward the shore. As they approached, I observed that there were no fewer than ten men in her, all of them armed with muskets.
As the ship lay nearly two leagues from the shore, we had a clear view of the men as they approached. Because the tide had pushed them slightly to the east, they were forced to row along the coast to reach the spot where the first boat lay. This gave the captain a perfect opportunity to identify them. He told me that three of them were honest fellows who had likely been pressured into the mutiny by fear. However, he described the boatswain, who was the leader of this group, and the rest of the crew as particularly dangerous and desperate. He expressed a terrible apprehension that they would be too powerful for us to handle.
I smiled at his concern and told him that men in our desperate situation should be beyond fear. I remarked that since almost any outcome was better than remaining on the island forever, we should view the coming battle as a potential deliverance, whether it resulted in life or death. I asked him if he still believed I had been preserved on this island specifically to save his life. To encourage him, I added, "Every man who comes ashore is already ours; they shall live or die based on how they behave toward us." Speaking with such a confident voice and a cheerful expression seemed to give him the courage he needed, and we set to work with renewed vigor.
Our first task was to secure our existing prisoners. Two of them, whom the captain trusted least, were sent with Friday and one of the loyal sailors to my cave deep in the woods. This location was so remote that they could neither be heard nor find their way out if they managed to escape. They were left bound but provided with food and candles, which Friday had made himself. We promised to release them in a few days if they remained quiet, but warned them that any attempt to escape would result in immediate death. They were surprisingly thankful for this treatment, especially for the light and provisions.
As for the other prisoners, two remained tied up, as the captain still felt uneasy about them. The remaining two, however, were taken into our service after the captain recommended them and they solemnly swore to live and die with us. Including these men and the three loyal sailors, we were now seven well-armed men. I felt confident we could deal with the ten mutineers, especially since the captain believed several of them were not truly wicked at heart.
As soon as the mutineers reached the shore, they hauled their boat up onto the beach. I was relieved to see this; I had feared they might leave some men on board as guards, which would have made it impossible for us to seize the vessel. Their first action was to run toward the other boat. It was easy to see their utter surprise when they found it stripped of its supplies and with a gaping hole in its bottom. They stood there, confused, for a while before shouting at the top of their lungs to see if their comrades would answer. When there was no response, they gathered in a circle and fired a volley of small arms into the air. The echoes rang through the woods, but it was all in vain. Those in the cave could not hear them, and those in our custody dared not answer.
Terrified by this mystery, they initially resolved to return to the ship and report that their comrades had been murdered and the boat destroyed. They launched their boat and began to row away. The captain was overcome with despair, fearing they would set sail and leave us behind forever. However, his fear soon turned to a different kind of anxiety.
They had not gone far when they changed their minds and returned to shore. This time, they left three men in the boat and sent the other seven into the woods to search for their companions. This was a significant disappointment for us. If we captured the seven on shore but let the boat escape, the men on the ship would surely weigh anchor and sail away, ruining our chances of recovery.
We had no choice but to wait. The seven men marched toward the hill where my habitation was hidden. We could see them clearly, though we remained invisible to them. They reached the top of the hill, shouted until they were exhausted, and then sat down under a tree to deliberate. They were clearly filled with a sense of dread, yet they did not know what they were afraid of.
The captain suggested that we should attack them if they fired another volley, catching them while their guns were empty. I agreed, provided we were close enough to reach them before they could reload. However, they did not fire again. For a long time, we stayed still, uncertain of what to do. Eventually, the mutineers grew so uneasy that they started heading back toward the shore. It appeared they had decided to give up the search and continue their voyage without their lost comrades.
Realizing they were about to escape, I quickly devised a stratagem to lure them back. I ordered Friday and the captain’s mate to cross the creek to the west and shout as loudly as they could. I told them to wait for the seamen to answer, and then continue lead them further into the woods by answering their calls from different locations.
The plan worked perfectly. Just as the mutineers were about to board their boat, they heard Friday’s shout and immediately ran toward the sound. They were stopped by the creek, which was full because of the tide, and they called for the boat to come and ferry them across. This was exactly what I had hoped for. When the boat entered the creek, they left only two men to guard it, while the third man went with the search party.
Immediately, I took the rest of my men and surprised the two guards. One was sleeping on the shore and was quickly knocked unconscious by the captain. The other, who was in the boat, was easily persuaded to surrender when he saw five armed men pointing muskets at him. As it turned out, he was one of the honest men the captain had mentioned, and he soon joined our cause with total sincerity.
In the meantime, Friday and the mate managed their task brilliantly. By shouting and answering, they led the mutineers from one hill to another and through various thickets until the men were completely exhausted. By the time they allowed the mutineers to head back, it was already dark, and the sailors were lost and weary.
We waited for them in the darkness. When they finally stumbled back to the creek and found the tide out, their boat aground, and their two comrades missing, their confusion turned to absolute terror. We heard them crying out that they had landed on an enchanted island filled with either murderers or devils. They called out the names of their missing friends repeatedly, but received no answer. They began to wring their hands in despair, alternating between sitting in the boat and wandering aimlessly along the shore.
I wanted to capture them with as little bloodshed as possible. I ordered Friday and the captain to creep forward on their hands and feet to get as close as possible before firing. After a few moments, the boatswain—who had been the loudest of the rebels but was now the most dejected—walked toward them with two others. The captain and Friday sprang up and fired. The boatswain was killed instantly, another was mortally wounded, and the third fled.
I then advanced with my "army," which now consisted of eight men. In the darkness, the mutineers could not tell how many we were. I had the man we had captured from the boat call out to them. "Tom Smith!" he shouted.
"Is that you, Robinson?" Smith replied.
"Yes! For God's sake, throw down your arms and surrender, or you are all dead men this instant! The captain is here with fifty men, and they have been hunting you for hours. The boatswain is dead, and I am a prisoner."
"Will they give us quarter?" Smith asked, meaning would their lives be spared.
The captain himself called out, "Smith, you know my voice. If you submit immediately, your lives will be spared—all except Will Atkins."
Atkins cried out in a panic, "For God's sake, Captain, have mercy! What have I done? They were all as bad as I!" This was a lie, as Atkins had been the most brutal during the initial mutiny. However, the captain told him he must surrender and trust the "Governor's" mercy.
They all laid down their arms and begged for their lives. I stayed out of sight to maintain the illusion that I was a powerful governor with a large garrison. My "army" of eight men bound the prisoners and seized the boat.
The next morning, the captain spoke to the prisoners. He explained that they were not his prisoners, but those of the island's Governor, who was an Englishman. He told them the Governor intended to send them to England to be hanged, except for Atkins, who would be executed on the island the next day. This was a fiction, but it had a powerful effect. They fell to their knees, begging to stay on the island rather than face the gallows in England.
It occurred to me that we could use these men to help us recover the ship. I stayed in the shadows while the captain pretended to consult with me. He would shout, "I am coming, your Excellency!" to make the prisoners believe I was just around the corner. We divided the prisoners, sending the most dangerous ones to the cave and the others to my "bower."
The captain then offered the men a choice: if they helped him recover the ship, he would secure a pardon from the Governor. They accepted with the deepest gratitude, promising to be faithful to the last drop of their blood. To ensure their loyalty, we kept five of their comrades as hostages in the cave, warning them that if anyone betrayed us, the hostages would be hanged on the shore.
The expedition was organized quickly. The captain, his mate, the passenger, and the most trustworthy of the reformed mutineers—twelve men in total—set out for the ship at midnight. They approached the vessel quietly, and when they were hailed, our man Robinson replied that they had finally found the men and the boat. While they talked, the captain and his mate boarded the ship and immediately subdued the guards. They secured the decks and fastened the hatches to keep the rest of the crew below.
A brief but violent struggle took place in the round-house, where the rebel captain had barricaded himself. He fired at the mate, wounding him in the arm, but the mate rushed in and shot the rebel captain through the head. With their leader dead, the rest of the crew surrendered. The ship was ours.
When I heard the seven guns fire—the agreed signal of success—I was overcome with relief. I had been watching from the shore until two in the morning. I fell into a deep sleep, only to be awakened by another gun and a voice calling, "Governor! Governor!" I ran to the hill and saw the captain standing there. He pointed to the ship, which had been moved closer to the shore, and embraced me. "My dear friend and deliverer," he said, "the ship is yours, and so are we."
I was so overwhelmed with joy that I could not speak. I felt as if I might faint, but the captain gave me a small amount of cordial to revive me. We stood together, rejoicing at this miraculous chain of events. I lifted my heart in thankfulness to Heaven for providing for me in the wilderness and finally bringing about my deliverance.
The captain had brought me many gifts from the ship’s stores: Madeira wine, tobacco, beef, pork, peas, biscuits, flour, and even lemons. But most precious of all were the clothes—clean shirts, stockings, shoes, and a suit of his own. After wearing nothing but goatskins for decades, these clothes felt strange and awkward at first, but I was deeply grateful for them.
Finally, we had to decide what to do with the prisoners. The captain was still worried about the two most "incorrigible" rogues. I suggested that we give them the option to stay on the island. I dressed in my new suit and acted the part of the Governor one last time. I told the prisoners that the ship was captured and their leader hanged. I explained that as pirates, I had the authority to execute them immediately. When they begged for mercy, I told them that the captain would only take them to England in irons to be hanged.
"However," I said, "if you wish to stay here and try to survive on your own, I might be inclined to spare your lives."
They were immensely thankful and chose to stay on the island rather than face certain death in England.
Before I left, I met with the men and told them my story. I showed them my fortifications, my cornfields, and my method of making bread and curing raisins. I told them about the seventeen Spaniards who were expected to arrive and left a letter for them, which the mutineers promised to deliver. I left them five muskets, ammunition, and a barrel and a half of powder, along with instructions on how to manage the goats.
I promised to ask the captain to leave them even more gunpowder and some garden seeds. As I prepared to board the ship, I looked back at the island that had been my home, my prison, and my kingdom for so many years, ready at last to return to the world I had almost forgotten.