had but little hope, food or strength. If any ask "by what directions we steered Our Course to Mayork, whither we designed?" for the day a pocket dial supplied the place of the compass, by night the stars, when they appeared; and when not, we guessed our way as well as we could by the motions of the clouds. Four days and nights were we in this wo ful plight; on the fifth, all hope that we should be saved was over; so that we left off our labour, because we had no strength left, only emptied the beat of watet, when God sent us some relief; a we lay beating up and down, we discovered a tortoise not far from us, asleep in the sea. Had Drake discovered the Spanish fleet, he could not have more rejoiced; we took to our oars, silently rowed to our prey, and took it into the boat with great triumph. We cut off her head, and let her bleed into a pot: we drank the blood, eat the liver, and sucked the flesh. It wonderfully refreshed our spirits, and we picked up some crumbs of hope. About noon we thought we discovered land. It is impossible to express the joy which raised our souls at this apprehension; we laboured hard, and at length were fully satisfied that it was land, and it was Mayork; we kept within sight of it all day. The sixth of July, and about ten o'clock at night, we came under the island, and crept as near the shore as we could and durst, till we found a convenient place where we might thrust in our weatherbeaten boat. When we were come to land, we were not insen❤ sible of our deliverance; but though we had escaped the sea, we night die at land: we had no food since we eat the liver, and drank the blood of the tortoise ; therefore John Anthony and myself were sent out to scout abroad for fresh water, because we spake some Spanish. We came to a watch tower of the Spaniards, spake to him on the watch, told him our condition, and earnestly begged some fresh water and some bread. He threw us down an old mouldy cake; but so long as it was a cake, hanger did not consider its mouldiness: then he directed us to fresh water, which was hard by. We

ur provision we had a little bread, and two leather bottles full of fresh water: we also remembered to buy as much canvas as would serve for a sail. We car ried out all these in parts and parcels, fitted them together in the valley, about half a mile from the sea, whither four of our company carried the boat on their shoulders, and the rest fullowed them. At the sea-side we stripped, put our clothes into the boat, and carried it and them as far into the sea as we could wade, and then all seven got into the boat but finding she was overladen, two of the seven were content to stay ashore. Having bid them farewell, we launched out, June 30, 1614. The bill of lading was John Anthony, William Adams, John Jephs, John, carpenter, and William Okeley. Four of us wrought continually at the oars, the fifth was to free the boat of that water which by degrees leaked through our canvas: our bread was soon spoiled with soaking in the salt water, our fresh water strak of the tanned skins and ooze, yet we complained not. Three days with good husbandry our bread lasted us, but then pale famiaestared usinthe face water indeed we might have, but it must be salt out of the sea, or that which had been strained through our own bodies, and that we chose of the two; but we must not have that after a while, unless we would drink the other first and the misery was, these did not assuage our thirst, but increased it. The wind too for some time was full against n: but God rebuked it, and male it our friend. A second inconvenience was, that our labour was without intermission: and a third, the extremity of the heat by day, the season raging hot the beginning of July, and we wanted fresh water to assuage the heat; our labour made it insupportable to our bodies, and our little hope made it grievous to our souls ; one help we had, a poor one, he that emptied the boat, threw the water on the bodies of the rest to cool them: but our bodies thus scorched and cooled, rose up in blisters all over. Great pain we felt, great dangers we were in, great miseries endured, great wants we were under, and

we

stood

stood not telling stories, we'remembered our brethren left with our boat; and observing the sentinel's directions came to a well, where there was pot with strings to draw with. We drank a little water, and cat a bit of our cake; but the passage was so disused, that we had much ado to force our throats to relieve our clamorous stomachs. We returned to our boat, acquainted them with the good -nccess of our embassy, and all prepared to go to the well; so making our boat as fast as we could to the shore, we left her. We arrived at the well, found water, and we had something to draw, but had no throat to swallow; for William Adams attempting to drink, after many essays was not able, but still the water returned, so that he sunk down to the ground, faintly saying, "I am a dead man:" but after much striving, he took a little so refreshed with our cake and water, we lay down by the well side till the morning, When it was clear day, we again went to the watchman, intreating him to direct us to the next house or town, where we might find relief. He civilly directed us to one about two miles off; and long it was ere our blistered feet could overcome the tediousness of that little way. When we came, the honest farmer, moved with our relation, sent us out bread and water, and olives; and seeing us thankful beggars, enlarged his civility to us, called us into his house, and gave us good warmi bean pottage, which seemed to me the most pleasant food that ever I eat in my

life.

Thence we advanced to the city of Mayork, about ten miles from that place; that night we lay by a well side, and in the morning we entered the suburbs. The viceroy was informed of us, and we were commanded to appear before him; who, after he had examined us, and heard our story, ordered that we should be maintained at his own cest, till we could have passage to our own country: but our English ships seldom trading thither, we petitioned the viceroy for passage in the king of Spain's gallies, which were in the road, bound for Alicant; which he graciously granted us. After some other troubles, we met with

contrary winds, and it was five weeks ere we could reach the Downs, where we arrived in September, 1644. The commander of the ship was capt. Smith, of Rotherhithe. Mr. Thomas Saunders, my wife's brother, being in Mayork not long after we came thence, saw our boat hung up for a monument upon the side of the great church there. Mr. Robert Hales was there in 1671, and assures me that he saw the naked ribs and skeleton of it then, hanging in the same place.

8. ♦ In 1651, king Charles II. made his last effort against Oliver Cromwell to regain the crown; and assembling forces in the north, where he thought be could command most friends, advanced westward into England; but Oliver intercepting his progress at Worcester, drew on an engagement, which proved decisive against the king. No sooner was the fate of the battle decided, than the king thought of nothing so much as providing for his own safety. He therefore took advantage of the night, slipped away from the body of horse that attended him, and betook himself, alone, to an adjacent wood, where, in the morning, he discerned another man who had got up an oak, near the place where the king had rested himself. This man, whose name was Careless, a captain underlord Loughborough, who knew the king, and the king knew him, persuaded his majesty, since it could not be safe for him to leave the wood till the heat of the pursuit abated, to ascend the tree that he had just quitted, where the boughs were so thick with leaves, that no person could be discovered without a narrower inquiry, than people usually make in places they do not suspect. The king did so, and was followed by Careless, and in that tree they sat securely all the next day, and saw many who came in pursuit of them, and heard their discourse. The day being spent, it was not in the king's power to forget, that he had lived two days with eating very little, and two nights with as little sleep: so that now

it

it was dark, he was willing to make some provision for both; and with the advice and assistance of his companion, after walking at least nine or ten miles, they came at last to a poor cottage, the owner whereof, being a Roman Catholic, was known to Careless, who, foitunately for the king, was of that religion. Him they called up, who presently carried them into a little hovel, full of hay, which was a better lodging than he had for himself. But when they had conferred with their host on the news, and temper of the country, it was agreed that the danger would be the greater if they staid together, and therefore that Careless should presently begone, and should within two days send a trusty person to the king, toguide him to some other place of security, and in the mean time his majesty should stay upon the hay-mow. The king slept very well in his new lodging, till morning, when his host brought him a piece of bread, and a great pot of butter-milk, which he thought the best food he had ever eaten. The poor man was ignorant of the quality of his guest, but spoke very intelligently to him of the country, and of the people who were well or ill affected to the king, and of the great fear and terror that possesed the hearts of those who were best affected. He told him, that what he had brought him was the fare he and his wife had; and that he feared, if he should endeavour to procure better, it might draw suspicion on him, and people might be apt to think, he had somebody with him, that was not of his own family; however, if he would have him get some meat Le would do it. The king was satisfied with his reason, and after two days penance in this place, a man, a little above the condition of his host, came from Careless, to conduct him to another house more out of the way. It was above twelve miles he was to travel, and was to be cautious not to go into any common road, which his guide well knew how to avoid. He had already cut off his hair, and now he new dressed himself, changing clothes with his landlord.

He had a great mind to have kept his own shirt, but he considered that men are not sooner discovered by any mark in disguise, than by having fine linen in bad clothes; and so he parted with his shirt too, and took the same his poor host had then on though he had foreseen that he must leave his boots, and his landlord had taken the best care he could to provide an old pair of shoes; yet they were uneasy when he first pat them on, and in a short time after grew very grievous to him. Thus equipped he set out from his first lodging, in the beginning of the night, crossing hedges and ditches, which so tired him, that he was even ready to despair, and prefer being taken, and suffered to rest, before purchasing his safety at so dear a rate. His shoes had, after a few miles, hurt him so much, that he had thrown them away, and walked in his stockings; and his feet with the thorns in getting over the hedges, and with the stones in other places, were so hurt and wounded, that he many times cast himself upon the ground, with a desperate and obstinate resolution, to rest there till the morning, what hazard soever he run. But his stout guide still prevailed with him to make a new attempt, till at length they arrived at the house designed; which though it was better than that he had left, his lodging was still in the barn, upon straw instead of hay. Here he had such are as poor people use to have, with which, but especially the butter and cheese, he thought himself well feasted; and took the best care he could, to be supplied with other shoes and stockings, and after his feet were enough recovered that he could go, he was conducted from one poor house to another, and conWithin a few cealed with great fidelity. days, one Mr. Haddlestone, a benedictine monk, cameto him, sent by Careless, and was of singular service to his majesty, This man told him, that lord Wilmot lay concealed likewise in a friend's house of his, which his majesty was glad to hear, and wished him to contrive some means how they might soak together ; which the other did. Wilmot told the

king,

king, that he had by very good fortune fallen into the house of one Mr. Lane, a person remarkable for his fidelity to the king, but of so universal a good name, that though he had 2 son a colonel in the king's service, people of all parties paid the old man very great respect; and therefore he advised his majesty to repair to this gentleman's house, where he was sure he might lie concealed till a full deliverance could be contrived. The king liked the proposition, and was willing that he should know what guest he received; for hitherto none of the hosts knew, or seemed to suspect that he was more than one of the king's party that fed from Worcester. Mr. Lane received him with joy, and took care to actommodate him in such places, as in a large house had been provided for the purposes of concealment. Here he remained some months, receiving every day information of the great consternation the king was in lest his person should fall into the hands of his enemies, and of the diligence they used to search after him. He read the proclamation, that was issued out and printed, in which a thousand pounds were promised to any man who would discover and deliver up the person of Charles Stuart, and the penalty of high treason declared against those who presumed to harbour or conceal him; by which he saw how much he was beholden to all those who were faithful to him. It was high time to consider, how he might get near the sea, in order for his escape. He was now on the borders of Staffordshire, near the middle of the kingdom, where he was an utter stranger to all the ports and coasts. In the west he was best acquainted, and that coast was most proper to transfer him into France, to which he was inclined. Upoa this matter, he consulted with the old gentleman the colonel, his son, and a young lady of great discretion, daughterio Mr. Lane, who was very fit to bear a part in such a trust. Mr. Lane had a niece married to Mr. Norton, a clergyman, of eight or ine hundred pounds a year, who lived within a few miles of Bristol, at

least four or five days journey from the place where the king then was, but a place most to be wished for the king to be in, because he was well known and well beloved in all that county. It was hereupon resolved, that Miss Lane should visit this cousin, and that she should ride behind the king, who was fitted with clothes and boots for such a service, and only one servant to attend them. A good house was pitched upon for the first night's lodging, where Wilmot had notice given him to meet; and in this equigage, the king began his journey, the colonel keeping him com pany at a distance, with his hawk, and two or three spaniels; which, where there were any fields at hand, warranted him to ride out of the way, keeping his company still in his eye, and not seeming to be of it. In this manner, they came to their first night's lodging; here lord Wilmot found them; and every day's journey being then settled, he was instructed where he should meet them at night. The colonel continued to hawk with them, till he had brought them within a day's journey of Mr. Norton's house, and then he gave his hawk to Wilmot, who finished the journey in the same ex◄ crcise.

There was great care taken, when they came to any house, that the king might be presently carried into some chamber, Miss Lane declaring, that he was a neighbour's, son, whom his father had lent her, in hope that he would the sooner recover from a quartan ague, with which he had been miserably afflict ed, and was not yet free. And by this artifice, sh: caused him to be handsome ly provided for, and often waited upon him herself, to prevent the servants from too narrowly observing him. There was no resting place till they came to Mr. Norton's, nor any thing extraor dinary that happened in the way, save that they met many people, every day, who were well known to the king, and the day they went to Mr. Norton's, they were necessarily to ride quite through Bristol, a place and people the king was well acquainted with, and could not but

send