"'Twas he made the fire last night when he saw our ships, which he judg'd to be English. During his stay here he had seen several ships pass, but only two came to anchor, which as he went to view he found to be Spanish and retired from 'em, upon which they shot at him. Had they been French, he would have submitted, but chose to risque dying alone" (note, not living alone) "in the Island, rather than fall into the hands of the Spaniards in these parts, lest they murder, or make a slave of him in the mines; for he fear'd they would spare no stranger that might be capable of discovering the South Sea. The Spaniards he said had landed before he knew what they were, and came so near him that he had much ado to escape: for they not only shot at him, but pursue'd him into the woods, where he climb'd a tree at the foot of which they stop'd and kill'd several goats just by, but went off again without discovering him. He told us he was born at Largo in the county of Fife, Scotland, and was bred a sailor from his youth. The reason of his being left here was a difference betwixt him and his captain. When left, he had with him his clothes and bedding, with a firelock, some powder, bullets, and tobacco, a hatchet, a knife, a kettle, a Bible, some practical pieces, and his mathematical instruments and books. "He diverted and provided for himself as well as he could; but for the first eight months had much ado to bear up against melancholy, and the terror of being alone in such a desolate place. He built two huts with piemento trees, cover'd them with long grass, and lin'd them with the skins of goats which he killed with his gun as he wanted, so long as his powder lasted, which was but a pound, and that being near spent, he got fire by rubbing two sticks of piemento wood together on his knees. In the lesser hut, at some distance from the other, he dressed his victuals, and in the larger he slept, and employed himself in reading, singing Psalms, and praying, so that he said he was a better Christian while in this solitude, than ever he was before, or than he was afraid he should ever be again. At first he never eat anything till hunger constrain'd him, partly for grief, and partly for want of bread and salt; nor did he go to bed till he could watch no longer. The piemento[11] wood, which burnt very clear, serv'd him both for fire and candle, and refresh'd him with its pleasant smell. He might have had fish enough, but could not eat 'em, as for want of salt, they made him ill, except Craw-fish, which are there as large as lobsters and very good. These he sometimes boiled, and at others broiled as he did his goats flesh, of which he made very good broth, for they are not so rank as ours; he kept an account of 500 that he kill'd while there, and caught as many more, which he marked on the ear and let go.[12] When his powder fail'd he took them by speed of foot; for his way of living, and continued exercise of walking and running, clear'd him of all gross