_Sunday, 14th._--At one o'clock in the morning, after the most happy and
sweet sleep that ever men enjoyed, we weighed, and continued to keep the
east shore on board, in very smooth water. The report of two cannon that
were fired gave new life to every one; and soon after, we discovered two
square-rigged vessels and a cutter at anchor to the eastward. After hard
rowing, we came to a grapnel near daylight, off a small fort and town,
which the pilot told me was Coupang.

On landing, I was surrounded by many people, Indians and Dutch, with an
English sailor among them. A Dutch captain, named Spikerman, showed me
great kindness, and waited on the governor, who was ill, to know at what
time I could see him. Eleven o'clock having been appointed for the
interview, I desired my people to come on shore, which was as much as
some of them could do, being scarce able to walk; they, however, were
helped to Captain Spikerman's house, and found tea, with bread and
butter, provided for their breakfast.

The abilities of a painter, perhaps, could seldom have been displayed to
more advantage than in the delineation of the two groups of figures which
at this time presented themselves to each other. An indifferent
spectator would have been at a loss which most to admire--the eyes of
famine sparkling at immediate relief, or the horror of their preservers
at the sight of so many spectres, whose ghastly countenances, if the
cause had been unknown, would rather have excited terror than pity. Our
bodies were nothing but skin and bone, our limbs were full of sores, and
we were clothed in rags: in this condition, with tears of joy and
gratitude flowing down our cheeks, the people of Timor beheld us with a
mixture of horror, surprise, and pity.