ry arms, to keep out the water. Being thus oppressed, by famine on
the one side and danger of drowning on the other, not knowing where to
find relief, we began to be in wonderful despair. And we were of many
minds, amongst whom there were a great many that did desire our General
to set them on land, making their choice rather to submit themselves to
the mercy of the savages or infidels than longer to hazard themselves
at sea, where they very well saw that if they should all remain
together, if they perished not by drowning, yet hunger would enforce
them, in the end, to eat one another. To which request our General did
very willingly agree, considering with himself that it was necessary
for him to lessen his number, both for the safety of himself and the
rest. And, thereupon, being resolved to set half his people on shore
that he had then left alive, it was a world to see how suddenly men's
minds were altered, for they which a little before desired to be set on
land were now of another mind, and requested rather to stay, by means
whereof our General was enforced, for the more contenting of all men's
minds, and to take away all occasions of offence, to take this order:
first he made choice of such persons of service and account as were
needful to stay, and that being done, of those which were willing to
go, he appointed such as he thought might be best spared, and presently
appointed that by the boat they should be set on shore, our General
promising us that the next year he would either come himself or else
send to fetch us home. Here, again, it would have caused any stony
heart to have relented to hear the pitiful moan that many did make, and
how loth they were to depart. The weather was then somewhat stormy and
tempestuous, and therefore we were in great danger, yet,
notwithstanding there was no remedy, but we that were appointed to go
away must of necessity do so. Howbeit, those that went in the first
boat were safely set ashore, but of them which went in the second boat,
of which number I myself was one, the seas wrought so high that we
could not attain to the shore, and therefore we were constrained--through
the cruel dealing of John Hampton, captain of the Minion, and
John Sanders, boatswain of the Jesus, and Thomas Pollard, his mate--to
leap out of the boat into the main sea, having more than a mile to
shore, and, so to shift for ourselves, and either to sink or swim. And
of those that so were, as it were, t