But how fickle and wavering is the mind of man, even in our greatest fury and strongest inclinations.  For while I was taking this march, my resolution began to abate, not through fear of their numbers, who were a parcel of naked unarmed wretches, but those reflections occurred to my thoughts:  what power was I commissioned with, or what occasion or necessity had I to go and imbrue my hands in human blood, and murder people that had neither done nor intended to do me any wrong?  They were innocent in particular as to me:  and their barbarous custom was not only their misfortune but a sign that God had left them in the most immense stupidity; but yet did not warrant me to be a judge of their actions, much less an executioner of his righteous judgments?  That, on the contrary, whenever he thought fit, he would take vengeance on them himself, and punish them in a national way, according to their national crimes; but this was nothing at all to me, who had no concern with them.  Indeed my man Friday might justify himself, because they were his declared enemies, of that very same nation that went to sacrifice him before; and indeed it was lawful for him to attack them, which I could not say was so with respect to me,—­So warmly did these things press upon my thoughts all the way I went, that I only resolved to place myself so as to behold their bloody entertainment, without falling upon them, except something more than ordinary, by God’s special direction, should oblige me thereto.

Thus fixed in my resolution, I entered into the thick wood, (my man Friday following me close behind) when with all possible wariness and silence, I marched till I came close to the skirt of it, on that side which was the nearest to them; for only one end of the wood interposed between me and them.  Upon which I called very softly to Friday, and shewing him a great tree, that was just at the corner of the wood, I ordered him to repair thither, and bring me word, if he could plainly perceive their actions; accordingly he did as I commanded him, and came back with this melancholy story, that they were all about their fire, eating the flesh of one of their prisoners; and that another lay bound upon the sands at a little distance from them, which they designed for the next sacrifice, and this, he told me was not one of their nation, but one of those very bearded men, who were driven by a storm into their country, and of whom he had so often talked to me about—­You may be sure, that upon hearing this, my soul was ready to sink within me:  when ascending into a tree, I saw plainly, by my glass, a white man, who lay upon the beach of the sea, with his hands and feet tied with flags, or things resembling rushes, being covered with clothes, and seemed to be an European.  From the tree where I took this prospect I perceived another tree and a thicket beyond it, about fifty yards nearer to them than where I was, which, by taking a small circle round, I might come at undiscovered, & then