He owned the case was very hard upon me as to my voyage, but laid it home upon my conscience, whether the blessing of saving seven-and-thirty souls was not worth my venturing all I had in the world for.  I was not so sensible of that as he was, and I returned upon him thus:  “Why, Sir, it is a valuable thing indeed to be an instrument in God’s hand to convert seven-and-thirty heathens to the knowledge of Christ:  but as you are an ecclesiastic, and are given over to that work, so that it seems naturally to fall into the way of your profession, how is it then that you do not rather offer yourself to undertake it, than press me to it!”

Upon this he faced about, just before me, as he walked along, and pulling me to a full stop, made me a very low bow:  “I most heartily thank God, and you, Sir,” says he, “for giving me so evident a call to so blessed a work; and if you think yourself discharged from it, and desire me to undertake it, I will most readily do it, and think it a happy reward for all of the hazards and difficulties of such a broken disappointed voyage as I have met with, that I have dropped at last into so glorious a work.”

I discovered a kind of rapture in his face while he spoke this to me; his eyes sparkled like fire, his face bowed, and his colour came and went as if he had been falling into fits; in a word, he was tired with the agony of being embarked in such a work.  I paused a considerable while before I could tell what to say to him, for I was really surprised to find a man of such sincerity and zeal, and carried out in his zeal beyond the ordinary rate of men, not of his profession only, but even of any profession whatsoever.  But after I had considered it awhile, I asked him seriously if he was in earnest, and that he would venture on the single consideration of an attempt on those poor people, to be locked up in an unplanted island for perhaps his life, and at last might not know whether he should be able to do them any good or not?

He turned short upon me, and asked me what I called a venture?  “Pray, Sir,” said he, “what do you think I consented to go in your ship to the East Indies for?”—­“Nay,” said I, “that I know not, unless it was to preach to the Indians.”—­“Doubtless it was,” said he; “and do you think if I can convert these seven-and-thirty men to the faith of Christ, it is not worth my time, though I should never be fetched off the island again?  Nay, is it not infinitely of more worth to save so many souls than my life is, or the life of twenty more of the same profession?  Yes, Sir,” says he, “I would give Christ and the Blessed Virgin thanks all my days, if I could be made the least happy instrument of saving the souls of these poor men though I was never to set my foot off this island, or see my native country any more.  But since you will honour me,” says he, “with putting me into this work, (for which I will pray for you all the days of my life) I have one humble petition to you,” said he “besides.”—­“What is that?” said I.  “Why,” says he, “it is, that you will leave your man Friday with me, to be my interpreter to them, and to assist me for without some help I cannot speak to them, or they to me.”