_Cuffey_, at his Entrance, threw himself on his Face, and clapp'd
his Hands over his Head; then rising, he, with a visible Awe in
his Countenance, drew nearer, and address'd the Captain in the
_Cholomantæan_ Language, in which he gave an Account, as I suppose, of
his Expedition; for when he had done speaking, my Comrades Heads were
brought in, and thrown at the Captain's Feet, who returned but a short
Answer to _Cuffey_, tho' he presented him with a Segar, made him sit
down, and drank to him in a Calabash of Rum.

After this Ceremony, Captain _Thomas_ address'd himself to me in perfect
good _English_.

Young Man, _said he,_ I would have you banish all Fear; you are not
fallen into the Hands of barbarous Christians, whose Practice and
Profession are as distant as the Country they came from, is from
this Island, which they have usurp'd from the original Natives.
Capt. _Cuffey_'s returning the Service you once did him, by saving
your Life, which we shall not, after the Example of your Country,
take in cold Blood, may give you a Specimen of our Morals. We
believe in, and fear a God, and whatever you may conclude from the
Slaughter of your Companions, yet we are far from thirsting after
the Blood of the Whites; and it's Necessity alone which obliges us
to what bears the face of Cruelty. Nothing is so dear to Man as
Liberty, and we have no way of avoiding Slavery, of which our Bodies
wear the inhuman Marks, but by a War, in which, if we give no
Quarter, the _English_ must blame themselves; since even, with a
shew of Justice, they put to the most cruel Deaths those among us,
who have the Misfortune to fall into their Hands; and make that a
Crime in us (the Desire of Liberty, I mean) which they look upon
as the distinguishing Mark of a great Soul. Your Wound shall be