egan his captaincy in very godly sort, by ordering his
disciples to keep holy the Sabbath day. Sunday, "January the ninth, was
the first Sunday that ever we kept by command and common consent, since
the loss and death of our valiant Commander Captain Sawkins." Sawkins
had been strict in religious matters, and had once thrown the ship's
dice overboard "finding them in use on the said day." Since Sawkins'
death the company had grown notoriously lax, but it is pleasant to
notice how soon they returned to their natural piety, under a godly
leader. With Edmund Cook down on the ballast in irons, and William Cook
talking of salvation in the galley, and old John Watling expounding the
Gospel in the cabin, the galleon, "the Most Holy _Trinity_" must have
seemed a foretaste of the New Jerusalem. The fiddler ceased such
"prophane strophes" as "Abel Brown," "The Red-haired Man's Wife," and
"Valentinian." He tuned his devout strings to songs of Zion. Nay the
very boatswain could not pipe the cutter up but to a phrase of the
Psalms.

In this blessed state they washed their clothes in the brooks, hunted
goats across the island, and burnt and tallowed their ship the
_Trinity_. But on the 12th of January, one of their boats, which had
been along the coast with some hunters, came rowing furiously into the
harbour, "firing of Guns." They had espied three Spanish men-of-war some
three or four miles to leeward, beating up to the island under a press
of sail. The pirates were in great confusion, for most of them were
ashore, "washing their clothes," or felling timber. Those on board, hove
up one of their anchors, fired guns to call the rest aboard, hoisted
their boats in, and slipped their second cable. They then stood to sea,
hauling as close to the wind as she would lie. One of the Mosquito
Indians, "one William," was left behind on the island, "at this sudden
departure," and remained hidden there, living on fish and fruit, for
many weary days. He was not the first man to be marooned there; nor was
he to be the last.

The three Spanish men-of-war were ships of good size, mounting some
thirty guns among them. As the pirate ship beat out of the harbour,
sheeting home her topgallant-sails, they "put out their bloody flags,"
which the pirates imitated, "to shew them that we were not as yet
daunted." They kept too close together for the pirates to run them
aboard, but towards sunset their flagship had drawn ahead of the
squadron. The pirates