But when we got them to the outside of our wall we were at a worse loss than before, for it was impossible to get them over, and I was resolv’d not to break it down. So I set to work again. Friday and I, in about two hours' time, made a very handsome tent, covered with old sails, and above that with boughs of trees, being in the space without our outward fence, and between, that and the grove of young wood which I had planted. Here we made them two beds of such things as I had.
As soon as I had secured my two weak rescued prisoners and given them shelter, I began to think of making some provision for them. The first thing I did, I ordered Friday to take a yearling goat, betwixt a kid and a goat, out of my particular flock to be killed. Then I cut off the hinder-quarter and, chopping it into small pieces, I set Friday to work to boiling and stewing and made them a very good dish of flesh and broth, having put some barley and rice also into the broth. I carry’d it all into the new tent, and having set a table there for them, I sat down and eat my dinner also with them. Friday was my interpreter to his father, and to Olegario too, for he spoke the language of the savages pretty well.
The uninhabitable island, the harvest,
our boat sails away
After we had supped, I order’d Friday to take one of the canoes and go and fetch our muskets and other fire-arms, which, for want of time, we had left upon the place of battle. The next day I order’d him to go and burn the dead bodies of the savages, which lay open to the sun and would presently be offensive. I also order’d him to burn the horrid remains of their barbarous feast, which I knew were pretty much, and which I could not think of doing myself. The thought of the dark church and its totem now gave me great apprehensions, for I now suspected there may be more to Friday's god than a meer trick of savage priests.
It was also made clear to me at this time that Walla-kay was both a name and a title, for I did notice this was the same word Friday had used for the old clergy of his people. As we would call a man "captain" or "mate" so did the savages make this one and the same, and some would change names many times in their lives. Thus was Friday's father a priest of sorts, altho' I was not as quick to discredit their beliefs as I once had been, as I have said.
I then began to enter into a little conversation with my two new subjects. First, I set Friday to inquire of his father what he thought of the escape of the savages in that canoe, and whether we might expect a return of them with a power too great for us to resist. Walla-kay's first opinion was the savages in the boat never could live out the storm which blew that night they went off, but must be drowned or driven south to those other shores where they were as sure to be devoured as they were to be drowned. As to what they would do if they came safe on shore, he said he knew not. But it was his opinion they were so frighten’d with the manner of their being attacked, the sudden noise, and the fire, that he believed they would tell the people they were all kill'd by thunder and lightning, and the two which appear'd, viz. Friday and I, were two heavenly furies come down to destroy them, and not men. This he knew, because he heard them all cry out the word tynd-lo, which is the word in their language for a spirit which appears and kills.
In a little time, however, no more canoes appearing, the fear of their coming wore off. I began to take my former thoughts of an escape to the main into consideration, being likewise assured by Walla-kay I might depend upon good usage from their nation, on his account, if I would go. He had questions for me, as well, for he would not believe I had lived on this island for as many years as Friday and I told him.
"He say white mans cannot long live here," said Friday, interpreting his father's words. "This island strong for Kathooloo, weak for white mans. Only we people safe here." At which his father slapt his own chest with his hand, which was much like the hand of his son, tho' be it with longer nails and, I observ'd, more flesh between the long fingers. Walla-kay had the same grey skin as my man Friday, his son, but also a wider mouth above his white beard and larger eyes. He look'd to my eyes much like a grandfather frog, altho' I would never say as such to Friday.
I assured him that my numbers were true, and offer'd to show him my calendar, or post, on which I still mark'd the day every morning. The old man shook his head and made it known again that I could not live here. Then he and Friday enter'd into a long debate which I could not understand, that is to say, in their own language, and many times Friday did gesture at me and at the sky. Walla-kay's eyes open'd wide, which was very wide indeed, and he reach'd out to brush my brow with a fingertip. He then snifft his fingers, as a dog does take a scent, and I did see that he could smell the beast upon me. The old man found this acceptable and did not doubt my word again.