A NARRATIVE OF A Great Deliverance at SEA.

WE went aboard from Harwich on Michael­mas day, 29 of Septem­ber 1648. I confess, a dull kind of sadness (as a cloud) sate upon my spirits, so that I could not look out chearfully upon my de­parting friends. But I took my farewel of them, as if I had been going not only out of England, but out of the world. I can give [Page 64] no reason of this deliquium, for I was sent on a good Message, to preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I was embarqued in a stout ship, with a fair wind, and a skilful Pilot; so that the un­derstanding and rational part of my soul could not foresee any, nor suspect the least danger. But (sure) Nature (whose Apocrypha we shall never understand) was sensible of some approaching storm; for I was no sooner at Sea, but I was in a strange Anguish and Propassion, so that I suffered shipwrack in my mind, and all the terrours thereof, before it came. I presently fell sick (as I usually do at Sea) for Water hath always been an unkind Ele­ment to me: yet that sicknesse hath no specifical name, we nei­ther call it Fever nor Ague, Pal­sie nor Gout; but I think it is all these, with the rest of humane in­firmities, [Page 65] or at least an Index where we may find them; for I was so really sick, that to be drown'd had been a punishment indeed, but in my thoughts no affliction to me. This sicknesse was neither Tertian, nor Quar­tan, but Quotidian: for I was as sick the next day as before. About four of the clock in the afternoon, the Master of the Ship came into our Cabin with more haste then he was wont, for he was quickned with the sense and apprehension of some sudden and ensuing danger; which though he conceal'd from me, I saw it in his very counte­nance, written plainly in pale characters of fear and amaze­ment, which made me ask him, whether all was well. And like a loving tender-hearted man, who is loth to tell his dying friend that he is so near his end, [Page 66] he answered me, All is well.

But when I saw him shift him­self, and make haste out again in great speed, but greater passi­on, I rose from my bed, and crawl'd upon the Deck, where I saw a sad spectacle. The Ship having sprung a Leak, or rather a Plank, was ready to sink. I do not wonder now I was so sick before, seeing death was so near. Oh how the face of every man was chang'd by this affright­ment, so that we could not know almost one another, ha­ving lost our natural complexi­ons through the extremity of passion! One was at his prayers, another wringing his hands, a third his eyes shedding of tears, when we had no need of more salt water. But after this fit, they fell to work, and (as it is usual in such extreams) we were all busie about doing of nothing, [Page 67] and we did we knew not what. We began one thing,— sed facti poenitet, but we presently fell to another, and perfected nothing to our safety. The Masters Mate and Brother, whom we sent down to search out the Leak, quickly return'd to us with a sad countenance; though naturally his face was red, yet fear had snow'd it into a pale complexi­on. This man with trembling hands, gnashing of teeth, a qui­vering tongue, and words half­spoken, signified to us that the wound was incurable, that the Leak could not be stopt, and the Water came in so fast upon us, that we must perish in this moment. I never heard a Death's head speak before; for he did look not like a Messenger, but Death it self. Had he said no­thing, we might have read our fate and ruine in his counte­nance.

[Page 68]Here was now no room for counsel, neither had we time to ask one another what was best to be done. But we presently cast out our long Boat, and shot off some eight or nine Guns, which seem'd to me to be so many tolls of a Passing-bell before our death. But it was to give notice to one Bartholomew Cook, who was Master of that Ship that came out with us, and was but a little before us, that he should come to our relief. In these fair hopes we leapt into the Boat; but it was my sad chance to leap short, one leg in the boat, al­terum in Charontis cymba: but not without some danger, I scrambled out of the Sea into the boat; but was no sooner there, but one of the Mariners leapt out of the ship upon me, and beat me down with his weight; which I took kindly [Page 69] enough, being willing to have carried them all upon my back to have saved their lives. But there was one, and but one, left in our sinking ship, who made such lamentable moan, that his tears prevail'd against the fears of our present danger, and we took him into our boat, when we expected our ship (whose sails lay now flat upon the wa­ter) should sink immediately, which must necessarily have drawn our small boat after it, as the greater fished swallow up the less.

But (God be thanked) we all came clear off the ship, but now were rowing we knew not whi­ther. For M. Cook came not to our relief, and we began to be severe in language against him, as if he had not been kinde e­nough to us; when all that knew him will say, he was a man of a [Page 70] soft, tender nature, and a friend to others, rather then to himself. But all men are suspicious in ad­versity, and commonly take all things in the worst part, Omnes quibus res sunt minus secundae magis sunt nescio quo­modo suspi­ciosi se semper cre­dunt ne­gligi, Te­rent. Adelp. and so did we; not considering at all how it might fare with this ho­nest Master, who, poor man, was in greater distresse then our selves, and drank a deeper draught of affliction; for both he and his ship and all his men perished in that hour, not a man escaped to tell us the cause, manner and method of his fate.

Now were all our hopes dash­ed, as well as our selves, being in despair of humane help; for we were left in the North Seas, which seldom wear a smooth brow, but at this time con­tending with the wind swell'd into prodigious Mountaines, which threatned every mo­ment [Page 71] to fall upon us.

To speak plainly, it blew half a storm, and we were now in a small Vessel: what credit could we give unto our safe­ty in a small and open Shallop, when so stately a Castle of wood, which we but now lost, could not defend it self against the insolency of the waves? we were many leagues from any shore, having no Compass to guide us, no provision to sustain us, being starv'd with cold as well as for want of victuals, and the Night grew black upon us, having nothing in our Boat but a small Which served us as a Scoop to cast the water out of the Boat. Kettle, and three bags of Pieces of Eight to the value of 300 li. Sterling. But alas! what good can money do where there is no Exchange? we could not eat nor drink our Silver, neither could our Pieces of Eight keep us warm. Money [Page 72] in its own nature is but an impo­tent creature, a very cripple, inutile pondus, a burthen of no value.

Good God! into what a sad condition hast thou now brought us; for which of our sins doest thou thus punish us? Teach us, O Lord, that we may know it, and first drown our selves in tears of repentance, before the Sea swallow us up; that though our bodies be cast away, we may save our souls: Such language my troubled thoughts spake within me. For it was with us now as it with St. Paul, Acts 27. All hopes that we should be saved were taken away. Nothing could pre­serve us but a miracle, being out of the reach of humane help: we were sinful creatures, and could not expect that God should go out of his ordinary way to save us. Though the [Page 73] waves carried us up to Heaven, yet we could not hope or be­lieve that God should put his hand out of the clouds, and take us miserable Caitives unto him­self from the top of a rising wave; we had nothing to help us but our prayers. I am sorry that word slipt from my hasty pen. Prayer is a multitude, a Troop of succors, and many e­nough to deliver us out of the depth, though we were intomb'd in the belly of a Whale; as it did Jonah. Prayer, if it be well qualified, is that rod of Moses, that can turn the Sea into a wil­derness, and make us pass through upon dry land. Psa. 107. Upon this only staff did we all lean, and I sup­pose it was with us, as in the case of Jonah. Jonah 2. The mariners were a­fraid, and every man called upon his God; And truly, I think I may with modesty confesse, I [Page 74] thought on those words of Da­vid, though after a more imper­fect manner, Psal. 69. Out of the depth have I cried unto thee: Lord, hear my voice, and let thine ears be at­tentive to my supplication. I sink in the deep mire, where there is no standing. Let not the water­flood overflow me, neither let the deep swallow me up.

But beside our personal devo­tion, I am perswaded the extre­mity of our condition pleaded for us, and our misery cried a­loud in the ears of God for pity and compassion. It is an usual expression, when we see any man extreamly poor and miserable, to say, his poverty or his misery speaks for him: and commonly we are not so much moved with a clamorous Beggar, who hunts after our Alms with open mouth, and makes Hue and Cry after our Charity, as if we had stol­len [Page 75] something from him who begs of us, I say, we are not so much moved with such loud im­pudence, as with the silence of those diseased Cripples, and in­firm Lazaro's, that lie at our doors, and in the streets, and say nothing, but shew only their wounds and sores to those that pass by. These beggars speak loudest to our affections, their very condition is eloquent; quot vulnera, tot ora, so many wounds, so many mouths, that cry aloud for pity, and cannot chuse but melt us into a charitable compas­sion. This was our case; our misery was louder then our prayers, and our deplorable con­dition certainly was more preva­lent with Almighty God then our imperfect devotions; for we may say with the people of Israel; Exod. 2. He heard our cry, and had compassion on us; It is the usual [Page 76] way of God to help in Extremi­ties, when we are in absolute despair of all outward means he loves to save us, that we may say, It is his doing alone.

For in this moment of death, when we were without the least expectation of any deliverance, He sent a Ship to us, which we must needs confess to be Digitus Dei, the finger of God, that point­ed and directed that ship to our deliverance: for though many ships come from the same place, and are bound for the same Ha­ven, yet they seldom meet in the vast Ocean, and sail in the same line; for there are no beat­en paths in the floods, no high­ways and common roads in the Sea. But such was the goodness of God, this ship made towards us, and we what we could to­ward it. But we had but two oars, and the Sea-men counted [Page 77] that a great disadvantage both to their speed and breaking of the waves. Beside, it blew hard, and the Sea, that knows no pity, rose high upon us, so that we were forc'd to sit close to one another, to keep out the Sea with our backs: a poor shelter against a raging enemy, who finding himself check'd, through indig­nation flew over our heads into the boat, and fell upon us in an­gry showers, so that had we not had that Kettle to cast the water out as fast as it came in, we might have been drown'd from above with rain of our own making. It was my lot to sit on the weather­side (and there is no comple­ment or changing of places in a storm) and the waves beat on me so fast, that I had almost said with the Prophet David, The waters had even entred into my Soul. Psa. 69.

[Page 78]And now we grew into ano­ther despair; for with all our en­deavours we could not reach the ship, nor the ship us: yet that good man the Skipper hung on the Lee, and did what he could to retard the course of his ship; and we on the other side did what we could to speed our own. His ship rode on furiously before the wind, like the Chariot of Aminadab; and ours slowly, like the Chariots of Pharaoh; and how could we expect that our Snail should overtake his Dro­medary? Thus our pregnant hopes brought forth nothing but Wind and Water; and we that before flattered our selves with an assurance of Safety are now as much confounded with a cer­tainty of Perishing. It had been better, I think, and less afflicti­on to us, to have had no hopes at all of a Deliverance, then pre­sently [Page 79] to fall from it. It did re­double the punishment of Tanta­lus, to kiss those Apples with his Lips which he must not taste with his Tongue: to have Hap­piness near us in our eye, and not to enjoy it, is the extremity of Unhappinesse. Many Mari­ners, in a Storm and Tempest, when they see a fatal necessity upon them, are contented to dye: but these men would mur­mure portu perire, to perish in a Haven.

This was our condition: We had a Ship hard by, but could not board her by reason of the Weather; so that we were ready to perish, whil'st we look'd Safe­ty in the face; and that which, in all probability, increased our Danger, and made our Fate in­evitable, it grew dark night, so that we did not know which way to row.

[Page 80]But this, though it was an e­vil in its own nature, by acci­dent became a benefit to us: for now, not seeing our danger we understood it not, and so grew bolder, and apply'd two to an Oar, and so brake through the Waves in a most desperate con­dition towards the Ship, as we conceived: and that good Chri­stian, the Master of the Vessel, hung out a Light to us, which was as a Star to guide us to him; and so by degrees we grew near­er and nearer.

But lest the Howzoner (for the Master was one of Howzon) should think we were lost, and so hoise up his Sails and be gone, (for he could not see us by rea­son of the Night, though we saw him by vertue of the Light he lent us) Order was given, that when a Wave took us up, we should give a great shout: which [Page 81] we did so loud, that I believe our Cry was heard to Heaven; for by God's miraculous assist­ance, we grew very neer the Ship, and our own safety.

Now were we in dispute, which side of the Ship we should go aboard, which was conclud­ed on the Lee-side; and promise was made, we should go up by order as we sate, lest by a hasty rising we should endanger our selves, and by making too much haste to save our lives, lose them. But we had no sooner come to the Ship, but they all strove to run up at once; and the Sea-men being dexterous in the art of climbing got up in a mo­ment, and left me alone in the Boat: neither do I blame them, for Life is sweet; and when that is in jeopardy, we care only for our selves.

And now was I the third time [Page 82] lost, and in the greatest danger of drowning; for besides the na­tural weaknesse I had in my hands, they were now so be­numb'd with cold and wet, and made useless, that I could not climb up a Rope, though it was now to save my Life. But I held the Rope, which was flung to me out of the Ship, fast in my hands, that our Boat might not stave off: but it struck three times against our rowling Ship, or rather our Ship against it, and as often struck me down in the Boat, which was half full of wa­ter; so that I was afraid I should have been drown'd in that Epi­tome of the Sea. It would have griev'd a man, but now to have escaped the vast Champain of the Sea, and to be drown'd in its Enclosure; and it was God's providence, the Boat being so often struck did not break in [Page 83] pieces, as it did presently after­ward, when it had done its last office to my deliverance. But having used several ways to get up in vain, there came, at last, two Sea-men down to me on the side of the Ship, and would have heav'd me up by the arms. But being so often wet, my Clothes, together with my own weight, were too heavy a Burthen to be trusted in their arms: and in this streight and exigency I really knew not what to do. I began to have sad thoughts of my self, and to think, that I alone was the Offender, and must now be sacrificed to the fury of the Sea, to appease and calm the Tem­pest. But whil'st I was thus wounding my breast with these thoughts, one of the Sea-men gave me down a Rope with a nooze, and bade me put it about my middle: but as soon as I got [Page 84] it on one shoulder, he began to pull, and had like to have forc'd me into the Sea. But desiring him to stay a while, I then got it over both shoulders, and order­ed him to pull. But the Boat waving up and down cast me off at some distance, so that he first drew me into the Sea, and my own weight drew the Rope so fast through his hands, that had there not been a knot at the end of the Rope by meer chance, (for he tyed it not, as he after­wards told me in England) I had gone down into the Depth in a moment; so that I may truly say, there was not an inch be­tween me and Death. Then at the next pull he struck me a­gainst the side of the Ship, which I shall alwayes look upon as a Courtesie, being the kindest blow that ever I received: It was like a Dose of Opium to a [Page 85] man that hath the extremity of the Stone, which makes him for­get himself as well as his sorrow; and so it served me, for I remem­bred no more either good or evil. But certainly the Master was a good Christian, and was indul­gent to me; For I found my self in his own Cabin the next morn­ing, where I slept all night very well, though in wet clothes. But I found myself sore and lame all over. I thought of the Man in the Almanack, wounded in eve­ry part and member; onely I really was what he seem'd to be, and had some signs likewise of it on my bruised body.

But I rose from my Cabin, very desirous to know how it fared with my Fellow-sufferers; & tru­ly I found them, contrary to my expectation, heavy, not with sleep, but with sorrow. I thought I should have seen joy ride in [Page 86] triumph in their cheerful coun­tenance; but their looks were dejected, and they murmured within themselves, suffering (I suppose) over their Shipwrack a­gain in their sad thoughts, and every man telling himself of his own misfortune. But the truth was, they having sav'd their Lives were now at leisure to think of the loss of their Goods: And I know it was a heavy loss to some, who lost much; and yet a greater loss to others, who lost less: for they having but a little lost a great deal, that lit­tle being all they had. For my own part, I lost more then I had, (for it cast me in a Debt, which I have not yet waded through.) But the Quantity of my loss doth not so much trouble me as the Quality; for (besides my Goods and whole Library) I lost all my Sermons, Notes, Obser­vations [Page 87] of some years travel a­broad, things in themselves of no value, nor much in my e­steem, yet they were the fruits of my (many years) labour and study, and might have been use­ful to me, both in my Ministeri­al Function, and likewise in the secular and lay-part of my life. But it were a shame to name any loss, when God so graciously gave us our life; and a sin to murmure at any damage, when God so often and so miraculous­ly snatch'd us out of the very jaws of Death. It seems to me to be like calling Lazarus out of the Grave. And do we think Lazarus, when he was restored unto life, complain'd that his Winding-sheet and Napkin were spoiled by lying four days in the Grave? or that he murmured that the Ointments and Spices were spent in vain at his Funer­al? [Page 88] For sure Mary, that had a Box of precious Ointment for the burial of our Saviour, would be at some cost at the Funeral of her beloved Brother Lazarus. But these things are not to be thought upon, when our Life is given us. But we are so ena­mour'd on the World, that we cannot but look back upon things we love and lose; and we would fain be comforted after our losses, as Job was, with twice as much as we had before. But then we must remember, it was at the latter end of Job; and be­fore that time God may redou­ble these temporal blessings up­on us.

The next day, being Tuesday, it blew very fair for Norwey, thi­ther our Ship was bound; and about twelve of the clock at noon we came in the view of it. But Norwey being a ragged Coast, [Page 89] full of Rocks, and seeing we could not reach it whil'st it was day, and afraid to come upon it in the dark, we turn'd our Sails, and thought to have kept off the Coast till the morning, that the Sun might shew us the way thi­ther. Which done, we sate down to meat, some of us having taken no sustenance since we first came to Sea; and truly I eat an hear­ty meal, being the only meal I made in five days: and so we were all very well refreshed and comforted. And now God thought it fit we should suffer a­gain. Had it pleased the Lord before this refreshment to have brought us in some new distress, we certainly, being weak, had perished under the weight of it, and the very conceit of it would have kill'd us, and a little more sorrow would have drown'd us without a wave. But God will [Page 90] [...] [Page 91] [...] [Page 90] lay no more upon his Children then they can bear.

About ten of the clock at night, when we had set our Watch, and pray'd; with safe and secure thoughts we laid our selves to rest, some of us upon our Beds. But God had appoint­ed an harder Lodging for us, such as he provided for Jacob in his journey to Padan-Aram, Gen. 28.11. when he took of the stones of the place, and made himself a pillow, and lay down in that place to sleep. For this our second Ship with full Sails ran upon a Rock, and gave so great a crack, that it was able to awake the most dead-a­sleep among us. I wondred, I confess, what the matter was; but the Mariners, knowing the danger better then my self, cri'd out, Mercy, Mercy, Mercy, with so doleful a tone and accent, that, together with that hideous [Page 91] noise which both the Wind and Waves made in this their pitch'd Battel one against the other, it seem'd to me to be the very Image and Representation of the Day of Judgement. I made what haste I could out of my Ca­bin, but was the last that came upon the Deck; where meeting with our own Master, with both his hands upon his eyes, which yet could not stop that current of tears which ran down his cheeks, he bade me pray for them, pray for them, for we shall cer­tainly perish. I could believe no otherwise, being taught that Les­son by our Master; and there­fore I fell presently upon my knees, and was just in the con­dition of a Condemned Person that expected the stroke of the Executioner, the night having but a blind before mine eyes: and having pray'd awhile I won­dred [Page 92] the Waves did not come to do their office, for I forgave them with all my heart, having wholly resigned up my self to Death.

But so it pleased God, that the Ship with full Sails struck it self so fast into the cleft of the Rock, or rather, as the Sea-men say, between two sledges of Rocks, with her Bow over the main Rock, so that it stood as firm, for the present, I mean the former part of the Ship, as the Rock it self. So I presently rose, and pull'd off my Coat, with an intention to cast my self into the Sea and swim thither; but was advised to the contrary by a pre­sent ensuing danger: for pre­sently there arose a high and mighty Wave, one of the chief Gyants of the Sea, which first knock'd against our Ship, as if it would have call'd me forth, and then with greater violence [Page 93] dash'd against the Rock, and brake it self in pieces; which did plainly represent unto me my fu­ture condition, and foretell my fortune, had I ventured to stride that great Leviathan, and endea­vour'd to swim to the Rock.

But presently our Ship, like Saint Paul's Ship, brake in the hinder parts, and we were taught to escape our danger by our dan­ger: for our Ship breaking in the Stern, we were forc'd to fly to the former part; and one of the Sea-men (the same that pull'd me up by the Rope) leap'd from the Bow of the Ship upon the Rock with a rope in his hand, Matthew Bird of Ipswich. which was fastned to one of our Masts, and held it with so stiff an hand, that another slipt down by it; and so all our own company, and some of the Danes (eight and twenty in number) came safe to the Rock that way.

[Page 94]All this while, being left alone upon the Deck, I began to won­der what became of my compa­ny, not then knowing that they had found any means of deliver­ance. But perceiving that they all crowded to the head of the ship, I went to see (God knows that was all my intention) what they did there, and so I came to the knowledge of their escape, and an opportunity of my own. For I found a Dane endeavour­ing to slide down himself and a small leather-trunk by that rope, who like a loving man took pity upon me, and presently whipt a­way his trunk, and bid me slide down there: but I return'd him his kindness, and desir'd him to go down first, not so much out of complement, but that I might know how to slide down; for I saw none of them go before me, and I did not know whether I [Page 95] should go with my head or heels foremost. I had no time to ask counsel, or make experiment, but presently I got upon the rope with my heels foremost, and back uppermost. But the waves beat upon me, and the wind (which was high) blew me round, and had almost made me let go my hold: but, I praise God, I came safely to the side of the rock; and they cry'd, Off, off; not out of unkindnesse to me (whom they knew not in the dark) but that I might make a speedy way for another, which I quickly did: for having laid one hand upon the rock, I came off the rope, and so on all four climb'd up to the rest of my company.

I was the last that came down the ship that way, for in that ve­ry moment the ship began to de­cline from us and give way; [Page 96] which the Master perceiving (who was still aboard) made la­mentable moan to us to help him, which we did with our ut­most endeavours. But the ship brake, and sunk immediately. There was this good man and four of the Mariners drown'd. I saw the Master with a light in his hand fall into the Sea, the saddest sight I ever yet beheld in this world, and that which pier­ced my very soul, to see him that saved our lives lose his own. There was nothing so bitter to me in all my sufferings at Sea as the loss of this man: it raised such a storm and tempest in my affections, that I am not yet calm within. I never think of him, but I am cast in a troubled sea of sorrow, and suffer shipwrack dai­ly in my mind; for as he was a man of a meek and charitable disposition unto all, so I found [Page 97] him kinde unto my self after a more special manner. How sol­licitous was he for us in our di­stress, and used all means, though it was to his own hindrance, to save us! and in all probability, had he not staid for us, he might have arrived at his own Harbour in safety. What shall we say? shall we plead with the Almighty, with the Prophet Jeremy? Jer. 12. No, it is better to cry out, Rom. 11.33, 34, 35. with S. Paul, Oh the depth of the riches and wis­dom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgements, and his ways past finding out! For who hath known the mind of the Lord, or who hath been his coun­sellor? All that we can say is, that God sometimes thus dealeth with his own children. Those whom by his grace he hath made instruments of great good upon earth, he taketh unto himself, to make them highly blessed in [Page 98] heaven. Certainly the Spirit of God moved upon these waters, and call'd this good man, as Christ did S. Peter on the Sea of Galilee, Mat. 14. to come to him, that for this high act of charity he might receive him, and present­ly crown him with glory.

Now were we upon the Rock, but knew not where; and some of the Company, before I came to them, had measur'd it round with their feet, and found it both a Rock and an Isle, and, contrary to our hopes, inhabi­table; so that we waited for the Morning-Star to draw the cur­tain of the night, and discover us first unto our selves (for, as yet in the dark, we were as igno­rant of our selves as of our sad condition) and, then, to shew and discover some coast or land to us, which we hoped we were neer to. It was a long and a sad [Page 99] night with me: a rock is an hard pillow to sleep on; beside, I was thinly clad, having cast off my coat when I intended to swim, and had no leisure to put it on a­gain; for I thought it best to leave that behinde me, rather then my self. We went from place to place, up and down, I may truly say, for I had many a fall upon the slimy Rock: some­times we were up to the anckles in water, I cannot say overshooes; for I had none; so that my feet were cut with the sharp stones, as my body with the cold wind; so that I felt the very teeth of Winter bite quite through me: for Winter in that Country is an old man with a grey head, when it is but a child with us. At length we happen'd in an hole of the rock, which was a warm shelter to us against the wind. And now the long-expected [Page 100] Morning drew neer, and we fain would have seen before we could. In that twilight, every black cloud we discerned, we flatter'd our selves was land, and here it was, we said, and there it was. But when the Sun arose, we saw it no where, only we had a glimpse of the Coast of Norwey; but it was at that di­stance, that we were not in any capacity to reach it, but with our desires.

Truly when I rose up and took a view of the Sea, and the place where I was, I was struck down again with amazement to see so many hundreds of Rocks round about us, lying for the most part under water, which the Sea-men call Breakers, be­cause they break the Sea, and turn it into feathers. It was a great providence of God, that we should in the night with full [Page 101] sails pass by all these rocks, (the least touch against them had been as mortal to us as our sins) and then to come to the great Rock, which was as a Church a­bove water. I am sure it was an Asylum to us. The Countrey-people deservedly call it Arn-Scare. It was the same hand a­gain of Gods providence, that our ship should be carried with a full strong wind into the cleft and open part of the rock, which was as a bosom to receive us: had we touch'd upon any other part, we had been utterly lost in the twinkling of an eye. Psal. 107. They that go down to the Sea in ships, and occupy their business in great wa­ters, These see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep. The Wonders of his De­liverances, as well as the Mira­cles of his Creation: neither are the Creatures more to be ad­mired [Page 102] then his Mercies. There is as much wonder and variety in these as in the other. Psa. 107.8. Oh that we would therefore praise God for his goodness, and the wonders he doth for the children of men.

But now again were we lost in the eye of man: all our hope was, that a ship might pass by to relieve us, which in my judge­ment was vanity of thoughts: for if a ship should by accident come by us in the day-time, they seeing the Rocks would be afraid to come at us; had it come in the night, it had certain­ly perished, as ours did. And yet we did hope even against hope. But having spent all that day, with sore eyes, in expectation of an imaginary deliverance, in looking for a ship (or rather ca­stle in the air) and seeing no­thing come toward us, we began to despair, having now no kind [Page 103] of sustenance to feed on, nor scarce clothes to keep us warm; so we again crept into an hole of the Rock, and lodged there, ra­ther then rested, the second night.

In the morning we arose, be­fore the Sun, and still we were looking for that which came not: and now we began to be an hungry; and some of our company went searching about the Rock, wishing (I suppose) those stones were turned into bread. One of the Sea-boyes brought me a leaf of Scurvy-grass, which I told him was sauce rather then meat. Some of us went a fishing, but with no other Angle then a long arm, nor no other hook then a bent singer. They put their Arms into the Sea as far as they could, and drew up some small Muscles, which they eat heartily. I be­gan [Page 104] to be very sick in a feverish distemper, and so had no sto­mach, which I think is a benefit when we have no meat to eat. But I did burn with thirst, so that I would have given all that I had for a draught of fresh wa­ter. God oftentimes makes us know the worth of his creatures by the want of them: nothing so mean in our esteem as a little water, we spill it every where upon the ground, and we look not after it any more; yet at this time a drop of cold water had been more welcome to me then the gold of Ophir, and in my esteem a better creature. I went into the highest place of the rock, thinking the water (that stood every where in holes) might be freshest there: but I found it salt; so I perceive in some storm it bounded thi­ther from the Sea. Though it [Page 105] was salt, yet it was water, and therefore (like one of those that were chosen to fight against Mi­dian) I lapped it with my hand to my mouth till I quench'd my thirst. But it came up again as fast as it went down, and brought a greater drought with it: and this I did very often, which I am perswaded was both my pre­sent cure, and future preservati­on of my health, Dr. H. as a learned Physitian told me since.

And now between ten and eleven of the Clock we saw a ship coming toward us with full sails, which lifted up all our hearts with joy, gilded over our countenances with cheerfulness, and so painted our faces with gladness that we seemed to be new creatures. The ship came neerer and neerer, and then we went all of us to the top of the rock, and waved our hats to [Page 106] shew our selves to the men of the ship. But I know not the cause, but they never came at us, nei­ther did they send out their boat to know what we were, or our condition. Whether this un­kindness proceeded from the fear of our dangerous rocks, or from their own more stony hearts, harder then the rock we lay up­on, I cannot say; but it put us out of charity with them, as they seemed to be with us. He was a Dane, of the same Coun­try with our former kind loving Master; so that I perceive there may be several dispositions under the same Climate, and one womb may bring forth twins of several natures: one was as smooth to us as Jacob, the other rough as Esau. When we saw the ship pass quite from us, our hearts began to fail, and our counte­nances changed into ther for­mer [Page 107] paleness. How soon was our fair Morning clouded over, and our beautiful hopes turn'd into deformity and black despair? to teach us that man's happiness is but for a moment, and the joy of this world but a span long. And now we were all lost, even in our own eyes; our condition, being ready to famish, would not give us time to expect ano­ther ship, neither had we now faith enough to believe, should there come one by chance, that the Mariners would venture their own lives to save ours.

So we betook our selves to our old remedy, [...], our prayers. The Danes (I confess) first began their devoti­ons, having sung one of Luther's Psalms, fell to their prayers; and then we sung one of our own Psalms, and as long as I was able to speak, I prayed with [Page 108] the company; and after some Exhortation to my fellow-suf­ferers, being very weak, I laid my self down upon the rock, thinking I should rise no more in this world.

But I overheard one of the Sea-men (the same that first leapt upon the rock) say, M. B. Let us make a Raft, and venture to Sea, I had rather be drown'd, then lie here and be starv'd. They all presently concluded to follow that design, though it was full of danger. But, you know, a sink­ing man will take hold of a bull­rush, and one that is ready to perish will catch at a feather. All things fell out to further this de­sign: for the water had now faln from the rock, and left on the side of it the Bottom of the Ship, the Anchors, the Mast, the Sails lying on the Rock like linen upon an hedge. In a short [Page 109] time they break a Mast in pieces, untwisted a Cable, made small Cords, tied four or five Boards to the broken Mast, put up the small end of the Missen-Mast, cut out a small Sail, with some slight Stern they had made, and so ventur'd to Sea on these ruines. God oftentimes saves by weak means, and preserves us by improbabilities. There were four on this Raft, two Danes, and two English; I do not remember whether it was by lot, or voluntary election.

It was now a great calm, such a calm I conceive as was upon the Sea of Galilee when our Sa­viour rebuked the Sea and the Winds. Mat. 8. It blew onely a small breath, which was our advan­tage, for it directly carried them toward that place we conceived the Coast lay. It was the mira­culous goodness of God, that af­ter [Page 110] the loss of two great Ships, he should save us by a swimming Plank: for this Raft past through, and got clear of all the Breakers: had it touch'd onely on them, they would have rent the Raft in pieces, as Sampson did the Wreath when the Philistines were upon him; but they pass'd by them all, and we that were upon the Rock followed them with our eyes as long as we could see, or rather as long as they could be seen: for our life was wrapt up in theirs, and the hope of our deliverance had no other foundation but their safety.

And now I may say, God stretched forth his hand as Christ did to S. Peter when he was rea­dy to sink, and saved these men, and brought them to shore; which yet we were ignorant of, and so pull'd in pieces between [Page 111] two several passions, Hope and Fear, and both of them equally troublesome; as we see in an A­gue, which hath two several o­perations, contrary in themselves as Hot and Cold, yet both of them alike afflictive. Our Hope being with that violence of pas­ssion, was as wounding to our affections as our Fear.

But these fits were soon over, for before night we spi'd several Shawls rowing toward us, which gave us a certain knowledge of the safety of our men, and a pro­mise of our own deliverance: they brought with them provi­sion; but we were more greedy of the shore then our meat, and therefore we made haste into the Boats, and by Gods goodnesse unto us, we came all of us once more to land.

The place that we arrived at was an Island in Norwey, call'd [Page 112] by the people Waller Island; so mean and inconsiderable, that Ortelius takes no notice of it in his Maps, for I have search'd with better eyes then mine own, I mean more knowing in Geo­graphy, and could not find it. My Lord of E. Dr. H. A place it seems not worthy to be remembred, but I am sure never to be forgotten by us. Though it was a Wilderness in its own nature, yet it was a Pa­radise to us.

There was but one house where we landed, and that was the Parson's, an honest Luther­an, who had many in his family. They shewed us, Acts 28.2. as S. Paul says, no little kindness; the language they spake was Noss. But I think it is not much unlike Dutch, for we that spake Dutch did partly understand them, and they us, and yet two several kindes of speech. I suppose there is the [Page 113] same difference between these two languages, as there is be­tween a Lobster and a Creifish, (which both are in plenty there) for though they both are alike, yet they are two several Species.

We made a shift to tell the sad Iliads of our misfortune to the people of the house, and they made a shift to understand us, for they wept most bitterly at our relation; so that one would have thought that they had suffered Shipwrack, and not we. Which shew'd the good­ness and tenderness of their na­ture, which are principia gratiae, the very beginnings of grace; or else I may safely say, they are the first dispositions, or, at least, capa­cities of grace.

They set before us what meat they had; and the Mariners fell to it so heartily, as if they would have repaired all they lost be­fore [Page 114] by their long fasting at one meal. Their ordinary Bread was Rye-Pancakes, but their Beer very strong. I thought of that English Proverb, A Cup of good Beer is Meat, Drink, and Clothing. Sure these people thought so; for though at that cold season some of the people had no stockins nor shooes to their feet, yet they kept their Under­standing warm, and their mouths well lin'd with Lubeck beer.

I lost my stomach, not with eating, but long fasting, and so went sick to Bed; in the morn­ing I found my self well, I praise God. And we began now to examine our selves, and one ano­ther, what Moneys our double Shipwrack had left us; all that we had we freely laid down: but there was an Ananias a­mongst us, who, we suspected, would conceal some part; and [Page 115] therefore we search'd him, and found no lesse then four and twenty Pieces of Eight, which certainly this man stole out of our Bags when we were in the Boat, after our first Shipwrack, at that present time when we ex­pected every moment we should be cast away. Did this man think that S. Peter would not let him into Heaven without his Pe­ters pence? or that he should go the other way, and must pay Charon naulum suum? It was a sad thing for a man to steal in ar­ticulo mortis, at the point of death: But it was well for us; for we lost all our Moneys in the second Shipwrack, but what this man stole from us. There are some Divines that say, Sin is commit­ted ordinante Deo; but the An­cients are wont to say, Deo per­mittente, which is a more mo­dest and civil expression. I will [Page 116] not dispute the question here: but I believe, if God did ever ordain Sin, it was in this man's stealing; for this Money was our relief in our necessitous con­dition.

We staid in this Island till Sun­day: in the morning we went to hear our Landlord preach; after Sermon he gave us Coena dubia, a doubtful meale, full of variety, in one Dish, as Beef, Mutton, Lard, Goat, Roots, and so many of God's Creatures, that it seem'd to me to be the first Chapter of Genesis in a Dish: but so confounded, that the best pa­late could not read what he eat, nor by his taste know and distin­guish the Creatures. Though God hath given all his Creatures for the use of man, so that we may doe what we please with them: yet I think it is not hand­some with our grand Mesle's and [Page 117] Ollapodrida's to confound and undo the Creation, cook it into a new Chaos, and sauce God's Creatures out of our know­ledge. I love to know what I eat, that I may praise God for the variety of his Blessings. But truly I do not blame the people of this place; for I think it is not Curiosity here, but Custom, and good Husbandry, rather then Luxuriousness, who boile all together, to save charges.

After much thanks, and a lit­tle money, we parted with this good old Priest; and I having purchas'd an old pair of Shoes at the price of a new, we travel­led on foot to Fredericstat, a Ci­ty in Norwey by the Coast side, and were very kindly enter­tain'd by the Burgo-master. The chief of his discourse to me was in commendation of the late Archbishop of Canterbury, whom [Page 118] he call'd Excellentissimum Domi­num. I wonder how he came to know him. But sure, thought I, if he be thus charitable to speak well of the Dead, who could not hear him, he will be bountiful to the Living, who are ready to thank him even be­fore-hand. And truly he was very kind to us, for he com­manded some of the City to en­tertain us civilly, and provided us Ships both for Holland and England, with the promise of some Provision at his own charge.

I remember how the People ran after us in the streets; and what their Compassionate Eye saw we wanted, their Charitable Hand was ready to give without asking. A good old man be­stowed on me an excellent pair of Mittens, which I brought in­to England. We found much [Page 119] civility every where: though the Country is all rocky, yet the Peoples hearts are tender; God made them è meliore luto, out of a better soil then their own Country.

But to make hast out of my Sto­ry, as well as out of Norwey; We went away from Fredericstat 3 or 4 miles to Ostersound, the Haven where our Ships lay, ha­ving laid into the Ship, that was bound for England, some small Provision, as much as our Stock could pay for, yet not so much as our Necessity required: for had not God blessed us with a favourable wind, we certainly had wanted much. But we, with all that was left us, which was now nothing but our selves, entred into the Ship in the even­ing. In the morning, before we went out, there came a ship from Lyn in Norfolk, struck against [Page 120] our harbour, which was natural­ly wall'd about with rocks, and so perished immediately. This was a sad Omen, and it seem'd to me as a Prologue to a new Tragedy.

We had not been above two or three hours at Sea, but there was a sad distraction amongst us in the Ship, and the Mariners crying again for Mercy, Mercy: For we had almost fell foul on a Rock, which lay so cunningly in the Water, that we did not spy it till we were upon it: but by the goodness of God we sail'd close by it, and escap'd it; the least touch of it had been our ruine. Thus God oftentimes doth bring his Children as neer the mouth of danger as may be, but he lets them not fall therein, that they may both fear and praise his Name.

About noon we came clear off [Page 121] all the rocks on the Coast of Norwey, and were sailing for England with a fair gale of wind. But in this Prosperity another sad Accident befell us: This third Ship sprang a leak, a new one I cannot say, but rather re­peated an old one, and so our Ship began to swim within as well as without; and we had no way to relieve our selves (for the Leak could not be found) but by pumping; which we did day and night, and so took revenge of the Sea, by spitting that Water back again in its Face, as fast as it came into our Ship. But now again we were in a sad and de­plorable condition, being in dan­ger to be drown'd from the Spring that rose within us, and to suffer an Intestine Shipwrack, which, like a Civil War, is most dangerous. We had our life now at our fingers ends; and if we [Page 122] had not lifted up our hands to pump, as Moses did to pray, these Amalekites had prevail'd; I mean, these merciless Waves had over­come us. Good God! in what, and how many streights hast thou brought us? Our sins are many, as the waves of the Sea; and so hast thou, O Lord, made our punishments.

For now we were, as I conceive, in a worse condition then ever be­fore: for though our Dangers were great, or rather greater, yet they came upon us so on a sud­den, that we understood them not. That Danger is less afflictive which we less understand; and that Misery we apprehend not is none at all, or at least none of our own. But now we see death be­fore our eyes, and are in expecta­tion to perish every moment; so that we may say, 1 Cor. 15. with S. Paul, We die daily. We were in the con­dition [Page 123] of him that sees himself bleed to death. In our former Dangers we had like to perish suddenly, which had been lesse penal to our affections: we were now to dye at leisure, and to be drown'd with premeditation; which is more afflictive to our Thoughts, though a less punish­ment for our Sins. Melius est perire semel, quàm timere semper: the fear of Death is more dread­ful then Death it self; and it is better once to dye, then to be al­ways dying.

With these fears about us, and black apprehensions, we sail'd on still with a fair wind; and after four or five days and nights sail, so it pleased God, we came in the view of the English Coast on Norfolk side, neer Winterton; where we saw the ruines of a Shipwrack, and the Countrey people enriching themselves with [Page 124] the losses of other men, the worst way of getting in the world. This was the Epilogue to our Tragedy, yet we had one Scene of sorrow more: For when we came neer Yarmouth road, on our left hand lay the Shingles, on our right the Shore; and we could not agree amongst our selves on which side we should go. Our two Masters and two Pilots (for so many we had in one Ship) like four winds blew contrary ways. In this contest they made a fearful noise and quarrel; their language was as foul as the weather, and as high as the wind, and brought us in as great danger (as our own Ma­ster told me) as ever.

I think Monarchy is the best Government in a Ship, as well as in the State. Many Pilots with their over-wisedomnesse are oftentimes the ruine both [Page 125] of themselves and their Vessel.

At length we did agree, & or­dered one of our own company (a Shotley man) who best knew the Coast, to sit at Stern: But this crazy and ill-built Ship, though she was steered one way, flew another, as if all things had conspired to our ruine. We re­solv'd to sail by the shore side, that in case our Ship should mis­carry, we might swim to land. These were but sad hopes: But it pleased God, we came safe in­to Yarmouth road; and having cast our Anchor, thought our selves secure. But our Anchor came home to us again; and the wind, which was very high, had like to have driven us on a Scotch-man. They cry'd out, and so did we; for they could not be more afraid of us then we were of our selves; for had we boarded them, we certainly had [Page 126] endangered both our Ships. But that God that had begun and gone along with us in such visi­ble characters of his extraordi­nary mercy, would not now leave us at the last, but did per­fect our deliverance: For our Anchor held, and we rode very secure that night. The next morning we hung out a Weaf, and there came four Men in a Shallop from Yarmouth, and de­manded no less then thirty shil­lings to carry me, a single per­son, to shore, when our whole Stock was but two Pieces of Eight. Though I did long for land, yet I could not purchase it at such a rate: But at length they were content to take less, be­cause they could get no more; and took something, rather then to turn back with nothing.

But they had no sooner got me in the Boat, but they row'd [Page 127] me up and down, to weigh An­chors; for there had been a great Storm the night before, and many Ships had broke their Cables, and were driven away by the Tempest. They tryed at several Anchors, not without great danger, as I conceived; but finding themselves not strong enough, they at length brought me to the Shore, which was no landing place: but four men, which stood waiting for us on the Shore, ran into the Sea up to the middles, laid hands on our Boat, and so ran it on the Sands, and tumbled us over and over; so that I cannot say whe­ther I set my head or foot first on the shore. After this manner sure Jonah was cast upon dry land, when the Whale vomited him up; I suppose that great Levia­than did not cast him upon his legs: But a man that had made [Page 128] such a trade of suffering at Sea as we did, and after so long a succes­sion of evils, would be glad to be cast on dry land in any posture.

From the shore I went into Yarmouth Town, with a compa­ny of people following at my heels, wondring at me, as if I had been some strange Creature come out of America, though they knew none of my suffer­ings, but saw me in a sad, rag­ged, weather-beaten condition. I presently got into an Inne, to hide my self from the wonder of the People, and from the trou­ble of their impertinent questi­ons; but chiefly, that I might praise God in private for his great and many deliverances. I cannot chuse but tell you so much, lest I should seem ingrate­ful to my gracious God: but I will say no more, lest I may seem vain-glorious to my Friend. [Page 129] Therefore I will conceal from you my particular devotions: Non est religio ubi omnia patent, I learn'd it from the door of a Ca­puchin's Convent.

The Sign of the Inne was the Arms of Yarmouth; the Man, I suppose the Host of the house, was as kind to me as S. Paul's Host Gaius was to him. Tho. Lo­man Esq. of Wen­beston[?] in Suffolk. And here I must not forget the kind­ness of a true Friend indeed, a good Samaritan, who had com­passion on me, bound up my Wounds, pouring in Oyl and Wine, and set me on his own Beast, brought me to his own House, and had a care of me; and, which I took most kindly, he bestowed on my sufferings Nazianzen's charity, a tear of compassion [ Si nihil habes, Orat. 16. da lacrumulam,] God, I hope, will re­turn this kindnesse to him, in blessings upon him, and his dear [Page 130] Wife and Children. By the kindness of this Gentleman I was recruited with all manner of comforts; and now behold ano­ther Shipwrack, not of my goods, but good name. Some there were, when they heard of the Monster of my sufferings, were affrighted out of their Wits, I suppose, as well as out of their Charity, and concluded I was a Malignant. Thus God is pleas'd to assimilate my sufferings to St. Paul's in some measure (the latchet of whose shooe I am not worthy to untie) who when he had escaped the danger of the Sea, Acts 28. was stung by a Viper as soon as he came to Shore. Sup­pose I should say I do serve my God that way which the World calls Malignancy, am I such an one, because the People say it? or was S. Paul an Heretick, be­cause the World thought him [Page 133] so? I do not care what the Many say of me, Bellua multorum capi­tum, a Beast of many heads, sed nullius ingenii, but of no under­standing. Thus the People cen­sur'd John the Baptist, the Morn­ing-star of the Gospel; and like­wise our Blessed Saviour himself, that Glorious Sun of Righteous­ness, or as S. Luke calls him, Luke 2. the Day that springs from on high; al­though their deportment in the World was different, walking under several Schemes, and li­ving after several and contrary Fashions. For, John the Baptist came neither eating bread, nor drinking wine, and ye say, He hath a Devil. The Son of Man is come eating and drinking, and ye say, Behold a gluttonous man, Luke 1.33. and a wine-bibber, and a friend of Pub­licans and Sinners: Thus the People are never pleas'd, neither full nor fasting. Neither the au­sterity [Page 134] of S. John's life, nor the sweetness and familiarity of our Saviour's conversation could content the People.

But you are a knowing Per­son, and one whose good opini­on I esteem; I have therefore, here enclosed, sent you better words of me, drawn by the Com­pany of Dantzick, and sent to the East-land Company here in Lon­don, for whose sake I have suf­fered these adverse things, and am content to run them over a­gain to do them service; such an affection I do and shall ever bear to their society.

Thus I have given your ear­nest request the sad story of my suffering in my East-land voyage. What I have related my unhap­py experience hath found it too true; yet I cannot tell you all, for there were many dangers which I understood not. It was [Page 135] my chance, a year afer our ar­rival in England, to meet with one of my fellow-sufferers (the same man that drew me out of the Sea: M. B.) he presently began to repeat our shipwracks (for men that have suffered together love to talk of their dangers past, and bemoan one another) he made mention of several streights, ex­tremities, dangers, deaths that we were in, which I do not re­member; so that from his mouth this Story seem'd to be so prodigious a Romance, that few but those that felt it would believe. But I have not told you, in this relation, what others say, but what I my self have suf­fered; and though I was loth to begin, I am now as unwilling to make an end— Omnibus hoc vi­tium—And therefore I shall tell you what further adversity I have suffer'd by this barbarous [Page 136] Element of Water.

I will not tell you of my ven­ture over the Bars in foul wea­ther to the Min at Dantzick in the Baltick Seas, for that it may be was our fear, and not dan­ger, neither will I speak of my passage from Groningen to Am­sterdam, when our ship struck a­gainst the sands; for there was danger and no fear; for the ship got off as soon as we knew it was on. But I will acquaint you with what happened to me upon the River Loire in France, at Orleans.

I was advised by a French Gentleman, that had former­ly travell'd with my Noble Lord the present Earl of West­merland, Whose Brother Mr. Robert Fane was in our company. not to shoot the Bridge at Bogency; for the bridge is made, not with a direct line over the river, but something obliquely, and so oftentimes dan­gerous [Page 137] to passengers. When we came neer the Bridge, I would have bribed the Batelier with a quart d' Escu, to have set my self and two of my company ashore this side the bridge, and to have taken us in on the other side. But the rest of the Company were unwilling to be hinder'd in their passage, and we were almost as contented to venture. But this thin Deal-boat (which boats are made on purpose to swim down the River to Nants, and return no more) came with a swift stream toward a corner of one of the Arches of the Bridge, which the Batelier seeing, cry'd, Nous sommes perdus, we are all lost. He did strive by putting his Rudder against the bridge to keep off the Blow, but brought it upon himself; for it beat him all along, and struck off one board of our boat, that we [Page 138] swam almost equal with the stream, and the water look'd in upon us: one touch more would have dash'd our boat in pieces, and so we had been all drown'd in whole-sale; for there was no swimming out of a croud, when our arms were pinion'd together with sitting close to one another. But by the goodness of God we got through the Arch, and came safe to shore.

There came presently to me two Cordelier Friers, which were our fellow-passengers: the one bade me thank him, for he made the biggest Cross; the other told me I must thank him, for he prayed unto the Blessed Virgin for us. I doe remember, indeed, when we were in our greatest danger, these Friers being struck with fear (which oftentimes kills before death) fell down in the midst of the boat; one of them [Page 139] measur'd himself with his finger, or, as he saith, cross'd himself; the other pull'd out a small Image, I suppose of wood, about the bigness of my great toe, and it seem'd to me not much unlike. To this he whisper'd something, which I believe it did not hear, no more then we. I thanked them both, one for his civil ig­norance, and the other for his religious folly. I confess, in so sad and serious a matter as drowning, I doe not love such puppet piety, such mechanick and handicraft devotion; my thanks must be addressed to God, the author and fountain of our deliverance, after a more spiritual manner.

After this, the same year, it was my business to return into England. I came to Calais the day after the Pacquet-boat was gone: being weary of a charge­able [Page 140] Town, and burning with a desire of seeing my own Coun­try again, having taken advice by a Merchant, I ventur'd to Sea in a Shallop, which the tide before came from Dover, and brought three Almains safe to Calais without any danger. The example of their safe arrival was a sufficient argument to per­swade me to venture from thence to Dover. So at four of the clock in the morning with the tide we went to Sea; but had not gone half a league, but there arose a great and mighty wind, which did blow, not only our Candle, but our Lanthorn out, I mean out of the boat, so that we were fain to let our boat drive till it was day-light.

I offered the Sea-men their fare to carry us back again to Calais, which they did endea­vour, but could not, the wind [Page 141] was so strong; yet as fair a wind as could blow out of the sky to carry us to Dover; but we had too much of it. The surfet of good things is as great an evil as the want of them, and a man may be too well sometimes. How did Neptune play at Tennis with us poor mortals, and how like Balls were we bandied up and down by his furious waves? Sometimes, as the Psalmist saies, they mounted us up to heaven, as if they would have shewn us La­zarus in the bosome of Abraham. Sometimes they carri'd us down in the deep, as if we had been sent with more then a drop of water to cool the tongue of Dives. By and by there arose a great wind, which with the first blast split our sail in pieces; so that we were forc'd to use our great sail, which was too big for the wind, as the wind was for it, [Page 142] and therefore we made use but of one half; the other lying on the side of the boat made it run so much on that side, that I ex­pected every moment it should topple over. We could not go backward, and we were afraid to go forward. I laid my self down in the boat from the view of these threatning waves (as a dying man is not willing to look the Executioner in the face) ex­pecting every moment to be swallow'd by those roaring Ly­ons of the Sea, who came upon us with open mouths, ready to devour us. But God stopped the mouths of those Lyons, that they should not hurt us; and our small Vessel rode in safety and triumph upon the head of the proudest wave. We could not say to the Pilot, as the Em­perour did, Caesarem vehis &c.—but there was in our boat a no­ble [Page 143] Gentleman, both by birth and vertue (the best and truest nobility) and likewise another civil person. These Gentlemen had so much worth and merit in them, that they should not need fear the threatning of an insolent wave, but might boldly say un­to the Sea, Sea do thy worst. But I'le rather impute all to the goodness of God, in whose hands we were, and therefore could not miscarry.

By and by a wave took us up, and shew'd us England. But it was with us as it was with Moses, we might from this watry Pisgah, and mountain of the Sea, behold the Land with our eyes, which yet we must not reach with our feet. One of these Gentlemen call'd to me to rise, saying I might see Dover Castle: but I thought it of no concernment to me, and therefore lay still, but [Page 144] wishing that we were all Pri­soners there; and so I said, little thinking that within few days af­ter I should be apprehended and accused for taking Dover Castle, and kept some moneths a close Prisoner in Kent. At We­stonhan­gar my Lord Strang­fords house which was then made a Prison to secure the honest Gentlemen of that County. God knows I would have taken it with all my heart, but for a refuge only; not as a Souldier takes the fort of his enemy, but as a poor weather-beaten traveller takes the house of his friend as a shelter. The storm continued still, and the wind blew very high, which though it put us in great danger, yet being fair for us, blew us the sooner out of it.

For now we came near Dover, and therefore I desir'd my friend to lie off my legs, for now I thought I should have some use of them my self; which he did, and I rose up and saw a world of people standing upon the Pere [Page 145] at Dover, holding up their hands, not onely in admiration of our dangers, but in zeal and devo­tion for our deliverance. They directed us with their hands which way we had best enter in­to Dover, and so with a fresh gale of Gods mercy, as well as with a fair blast of wind, with full sails, we, not without some danger in hitting the Pere, ran a-shore.

I must not omit one mercy more (which I forgot in my last) because it is so neer of kin and allied to my deliverances at Sea, a pre-deliverance, a deliverance before hand, an antidated mercy.

For after I had spent some time in Prussia, and had seen El­bing, Koningsberg, which is the University; the Pillow, which is both the key to the Country, and to the chief Revenue of the Marquess of Brandenburg in Prus­sia. [Page 146] I return'd to Dantzick with a resolution for England, having met with a fair opportunity as well as a wind; for there was one Captain Sharper of New-Ca­stle, a Kings-man (as they call those that love the King in that Country) this was argument enough both to confirm and ha­sten my resolution.

This honest Captain being ready fraught and bound for England, I presently went to him to speak for my passage; he like a kinde man as well as a King's-man promised me passage gratis, the English Company at Dantzick understanding so much, the greater part of them came to me, and importun'd me to stay with them, and continue my preaching, with a promise to answer my pains with more then I could desire or deserve. This unexpected kindness and love, [Page 147] which is above the price of any reward upon earth soon melted me into a compliance with their desires, and so without any con­tract I freely, as suddenly, with­out farther counsel, promised to stay with them. But God was in it, who inclines our hearts to those ways which lead to our safety and felicity, though we do not for the present see the se­crets of his love and wisdom; for this good man, Captain Sharper, Amongst them were my two lo­ving Friends, Mr. Ran­dolph Price el­dest Son to Mr. Price of Esher, a Gentleman of great hopes, taken away in the flower of his youth and vertue. I gave him the Holy and blessed Sacrament before he went to Sea, which he recei­ved with much devotion, which no doubt was a present and heavenly Cordial to himself; so I mention it as a dwelling and perpetual comfort to his still weeping Friends. Captain Vaughan who accompanyed me in my first Voyage into the East-Country. with all his company, some few days after they went to Sea, were cast away neer the Zound, not a man escaped. Thus God sometimes prevents his chil­dren from falling into evil, as [Page 148] well as to deliver them when fal­len, that they may enjoy the comforts of his mercy without the sorrow of suffering.

To deliver his children when they are fallen into any calamity and trouble is an high and broad expression of his love and kind­ness to them, yet there is some bitternesse in the evil, though there be sweetness in the deli­verance: but now, by his grace and goodness, to escape before we are taken, and to be deli­vered before we suffer, is a mercy we cannot hope for, a blessing we could not expect, and I am sure cannot express. It is like pure wine without the Allay of water, a lively picture, and true portraicture of the state of the blessed in Heaven, who possesse fullness of joy without any mix­ture of sorrow, and life without the shadow of death. I hope I [Page 149] shall never forget this great mer­cy; and it is the greater because it was bestowed upon one that had no title to it, but the free grace and goodness of God.

After these great and many dangers at Sea, and as many and great deliverances, I had thought once to tell you what happened to me on the shore,

But I will conceal them from my friends; for in this sad Age every man hath sorrow enough of his own, and is not at leisure to con­sider the sad condition of ano­ther from bemoaning and pity­ing himself. I will therefore conclude, giving glory to God for his many mercies, and my thanks to you for giving me an opportunity to remember them.

I hope you will pardon my [Page 150] plain language; Sorrow is dull, and black, and sad stories ought not to be presented in painted words and gaudy Expressions of Rhetorick. No man mourns in colour'd Taffaty. What is want­ing in Allegories, you have in reality: Truth needs no Meta­phors. You have a true relati­on of many sad accidents and af­flictions at Sea, by him who did undergo them, who is,