The poor Man with Tears running down his Face，and trembling，looking like one astonish'd，return'd，Am I talking to God，or Man！ Is it a real Man，or an Angel！ Be in no fear about that，Sir，said I，if God had sent an Angel to relieve you，he would have come better Cloath'd，and Arm'd after another manner than you see me in；pray lay aside your Fears，I am a Man，an English-man，and dispos'd to assist you，you see；I have one Servant only；we have Arms and Ammunition；tell us freely，Can we serve you ？ - What is your Case？
Our Case，said he，Sir，is too long to tell you，while our Murtherers are so near；but in Short，Sir，I was Commander of that Ship，my Men have Mutinied against me；they have been hardly prevail'd on not to Murther me，and at last have set me on Shore in this desolate Place，with these two Men with me；one my Mate，the other a Passenger，where we expected to Perish，believing the Place to be uninhabited，and know not yet what to think of it.
Where are those Brutes，your Enemies，said I，do you know where they are gone？ There they lye，Sir，Said he，pointing to a Thicket of Trees；my Heart trembles，for fear they have seen us，and heard you speak，if they have，they will certainly Murther us all.