lace.

"Well, Friday," says I, "do you think we shall find anybody here or no?
and do you think we shall see your father?" The fellow stood mute as a
stock a good while; but when I named his father, the poor affectionate
creature looked dejected, and I could see the tears run down his face
very plentifully. "What is the matter, Friday? are you troubled because
you may see your father?" "No, no," says he, shaking his head, "no see
him more: no, never more see him again." "Why so, Friday? how do you
know that?" "Oh no, Oh no," says Friday, "he long ago die, long ago; he
much old man." "Well, well, Friday, you don't know; but shall we see any
one else, then?" The fellow, it seems, had better eyes than I, and he
points to the hill just above my old house; and though we lay half a
league off, he cries out, "We see! we see! yes, we see much man there,
and there, and there." I looked, but I saw nobody, no, not with a
perspective glass, which was, I suppose, because I could not hit the
place: for the fellow was right, as I found upon inquiry the next day;
and there were five or six men all together, who stood to look at the
ship, not knowing what to think of us.

As soon as Friday told me he saw people, I caused the English ancient to
be spread, and fired three guns, to give them notice we were friends; and
in about a quarter of an hour after we perceived a smoke arise from the
side of the creek; so I immediately ordered the boat out, taking Friday
with me, and hanging out a white flag, I went directly on shore, taking
with me the young friar I mentioned, to whom I had told the story of my
living there, and the manner of it, and every particular both of myself
and those I left there, and who was on that account extremely desirous to
go with me. We had, besides, about sixteen men well armed, if we had
found any new guests there which we did not know of; but we had no need
of weapons.

As we went on shore upon the tide of flood, near high water, we rowed
directly into the creek; and the first man I fixed my eye upon was the
Spaniard whose life I had saved, and whom I knew by his face perfectly
well: as to his habit, I shall describe it afterwards. I ordered nobody
to go on shore at first but myself; but there was no keeping Friday in
the boat, for the affectionate creature had spied his father at a
distance, a good way off the Spaniards, where, indeed, I saw nothing of
him; and if they had not let him go ashore, he wo