The Author Sets Out on His Third Voyage – Attacked by Pirates – The Malice of a Dutchman – Arrival at a Flying Island
I had barely been home for ten days when Captain William Robinson, an honest seaman from Cornwall and commander of the Hopewell, visited my house. I had previously served as a surgeon under his command, and we shared a bond more like that of brothers than of officer and subordinate. After several visits, he eventually invited me to join his upcoming voyage to the East Indies. He offered me a salary double the usual rate and promised that I would have another surgeon under me. Most importantly, he respected my experience so much that he committed to following my advice in all sea affairs.
I could not reject such a generous proposal. Despite my past misfortunes, my desire to see the world remained as restless as ever. The only remaining challenge was to persuade my wife; however, she eventually gave her consent, motivated by the financial advantages the journey would provide for our children.
We set sail on August 5th, 1706. After stopping at Fort St. George to refresh our crew, we arrived at Tonquin. The Captain decided to remain there for several months to conduct business. To cover our expenses during this delay, he purchased a small sloop, loaded it with trade goods, and appointed me as its master. I was given fourteen men and the authority to trade among the neighboring islands while he finished his affairs on the mainland.
We had been sailing for only three days when a violent storm drove us far off course. On the tenth day, we were pursued by two pirate ships. My sloop, heavily laden with cargo, sailed too slowly to escape, and we were in no position to defend ourselves. Both pirate ships boarded us simultaneously. I ordered my men to lie face down on the deck to signal our surrender, yet the pirates still bound us with heavy ropes and placed us under guard.
Among the pirates, I noticed a Dutchman who appeared to be an officer. Recognizing us as Englishmen, he began swearing at us in his own tongue, threatening to tie us back to back and throw us into the sea. Since I spoke Dutch reasonably well, I begged him for mercy, reminding him that we were fellow Christians and neighbors in alliance. This only inflamed his rage. He turned to his companions and spoke vehemently in what I assumed was Japanese, frequently pointing at us with hatred.
The larger pirate ship was commanded by a Japanese captain who spoke a little Dutch. He questioned me with some kindness and, moved by my humble answers, declared that we should not die. I bowed low to him, but I could not resist remarking to the Dutchman how disappointed I was to find more mercy in a "heathen" than in a "Christian brother." I soon regretted these foolish words. The malicious man, having failed to convince the captains to drown me, instead persuaded them to inflict a punishment that seemed worse than death. My crew was divided between the two pirate ships, and I was set adrift in a small canoe with only four days of provisions. To his credit, the Japanese captain doubled my supplies from his own stores and forbade his men from searching my pockets.
For several days, I paddled from one rocky, uninhabited island to another. I survived by gathering birds’ eggs and roasting them over fires made of dry seaweed. By the fifth day, however, my strength and spirits were nearly exhausted. I found a small creek on a desolate island and took shelter in a cave. I lay there in a state of deep despondency, convinced that I would soon perish from hunger or exposure.
The next morning, the sky was perfectly clear and the sun grew uncomfortably hot. Suddenly, a vast shadow fell over me. Looking up, I perceived a massive, solid body moving between me and the sun. It appeared to be about two miles high, and for several minutes, it completely obscured the light. As it moved closer, I realized with astonishment that this was a firm substance—a vast island in the air. Its bottom was flat and smooth, shining brightly as it reflected the sea below.
I stood upon a height and watched this extraordinary phenomenon descend until it was less than a mile away. Through my pocket telescope, I could clearly see numbers of people moving along its sloping sides. The natural love of life filled me with a sudden surge of hope that this mechanical wonder might deliver me from my misery.
The island eventually drifted closer, and I observed that its sides were lined with various galleries and stairs. In the lowest gallery, I could see people fishing with long rods. I waved my cap and handkerchief frantically, shouting at the top of my lungs. I saw a crowd gather at the edge, pointing down at me. Although they did not return my shouts, several men ran up the stairs to the top of the island, presumably to seek orders from their superiors.
The island was soon lowered until the bottom gallery was less than a hundred yards from my position. I took a humble, supplicating posture, hoping to show my distress. A man called out to me in a clear, musical dialect that sounded somewhat like Italian. I replied in that language, and although we could not understand each other's words, my desperate situation was obvious.
They gestured for me to move toward the shore. Once the flying island was directly over me, a chain was lowered from the lowest gallery with a seat fastened to the end. I secured myself to it, and by the use of pulleys, I was drawn up into the air.