As the years passed on, the poor exiles were in pitiful straits. Their clothing had been worn to tatters, and they were reduced even to beggary. They were accustomed to go off in companies to seek alms of the people, for two or three weeks at a time. Those left at home, during these trips, worked at various odd jobs to earn a pittance, especially at making arrows. The next year, 1664, was somewhat easier for them, their overseer being kind and gentle; but, in 1665, the homesick fellows tried hard to escape. In 1666, they lost their benefactor, the good governor. Now came the time for flight. All possible preparations were made, in the way of hoarding provisions, getting fresh water ready, and studying well the place of exit. They waited for the sickness or absence of their overseer, to slacken the vigilance of their guards. In the latter part of August, or early in September, 1667, as the fourteenth year of their captivity was drawing to a close, the governor fell sick. The Dutchmen, taking time by the forelock, immediately, as soon as dark, on the night of September 4th, climbed the city wall, and reaching the seaside succeeded, after some parleying, in getting a boat. “A Corean, blinded by the offer of double the value of it,” sold them his fishing craft. They returned again to the city. At night they crept along the city wall, and this time the dogs were asleep, absent, or to windward, though the Dutchmen’s hearts were in their mouths all the time. They carried pots of rice and water, and that darling of a Dutchman—the frying-pan. Noiselessly they slipped the wood and stone anchor, and glided out past the junks and boats in the harbor, none of the crews waking from their mats. They steered directly southeast, and on the 6th found themselves in a current off the Goto Islands. They succeeded in landing, and cooked some food. Not long after, some armed natives (probably from the lingering influence of the comet) approached them cautiously, as the Japanese feared they were Coreans, and forerunners of an invading band. Hamel at once pulled out their flag, having the arms and colors of the Prince of Orange. Surrendering themselves, they stated their history, and condition, and their desire of getting home. The Japanese were kind, “but made no return for the gifts” of the Dutchmen. They finally got to Nagasaki in Japanese junks, and met their countrymen at Déshima. The annual ship from Batavia was then just about to return, and in the nick of time the waifs got on board, reached Batavia November 20th, sailed for Holland December 28th, and on July 20, 1668, stepped ashore at home. Hamel, the supercargo of the ship, wrote a book on his return, recounting his adventures in a simple and straightforward style. It was written in Dutch and shortly after translated into French, German, and English. Four editions in Dutch are known. The English version may be found in full in the Astley, and in the Pinkerton, Collections of Voyages and Travels.