THE

LIFE

OF

Charlotta Du Pont,

An English LADY;

Taken from her own MEMOIRS.

Giving an Account how she was trepan’d by her Stepmother to Virginia, how the Ship was taken by some Madagascar Pirates, and retaken by a Spanish Man of War. Of her Marriage in the Spanish West-Indies, and Adventures whilst she resided there, with her return to England. And the History of several Gentlemen and Ladys whom she met withal in her Travels; some of whom had been Slaves in Barbary, and others cast on Shore by Shipwreck on the barbarous Coasts up the great River Oroonoko: with their Escape thence, and safe Return to France and Spain.

A History that contains the greatest Variety of Events that ever was publish’d.

By Mrs. AUBIN.

LONDON:

Printed for A. Bettesworth at the Red Lion in Pater-
Noster-Row. M.DCC.XXIII.

TO

My much honoured Friend

Mrs. ROWE.

MADAM,

I HAVE long waited an Opportunity to give some publick Testimony of the Esteem and Respect I have for you. The Friendship you and Mr. Rowe have shewn to me and my dead Friend, have laid me under the greatest Obligations to love and value you; but your particular Merit has doubly ingaged me to honour you. In you I have found all that is valuable in our Sex; and without Flattery, you are the best Wife, the best Friend, the most prudent, most humble, and most accomplish’d Woman I ever met withal. I am charm’d with your Conversation, and extremely proud of your Friendship. The World has often condemn’d me for being too curious, and, as they term it, partial in my Friendships; but I am of Horace’s Mind, and take no Pleasure in Variety of Acquaintance and Conversation: Two or three Persons of Worth and Integrity are enough to make Life pleasant. I confess I have little to recommend me to such, except the grateful Sense I have of the Honour they do me, and the Love I bear their Virtues; and I account it my good Fortune to have found such Friends, amongst whom I esteem you in the first Rank. I need say nothing of Mr. Rowe, but that he has such Excellencys as prevail’d with you, who are an admirable Judge, and endow’d with as much Sense and Virtue as any Woman living, to prefer him before all the rest of Mankind: and your Choice is sufficient to speak his Merit. May Heaven prolong your Lives, and continue your Felicity, that your Friends may long enjoy you, and the World be better’d by your Examples. You act as your learned* Father taught, and are in all kinds an Honour to the antient noble Familys from whence you are descended. Forgive this Rapture, my Zeal transports me when you are the Subject of my Thoughts; and I had almost forgot to entreat the Favour of you to accept the little Present I here make of the Adventures of a Lady, whose Life was full of the most extraordinary Incidents. I hope it will agreeably entertain you at a leisure Hour, and I assure you I dedicate it to you with the utmost Respect and Affection, and am, Madam,

                                                Your most sincere Friend,

                                                            and devoted humble Servant,

                                                                                    Penelope Aubin.

THE

PREFACE.

Gentlemen and Ladys,

THE Court being removed to the other Side of the Water, and beyond Sea, to take the Pleasures this Town and our dull Island cannot afford; the greater part of our Nobility and Members of Parliament retired to Hannover or their Country-Seats, where they may supinely sit, and with Pleasure reflect on the great Things they have done for the publick Good, and the mighty Toils they have sustained from sultry Days and sleepless Nights, unravelling the horrid Plot: whilst these our great Patriots enjoy the repose of their own Consciences, and reap the fruits of their Labours, and enlarged Prisoners freed from Stone·Walls, and Jailors taste the Sweets of Liberty; I believed something new and diverting would be welcome to the Town, and that the Adventures of a young Lady, whose Life contains the most extraordinary Events that I ever heard or read of, might agreeably entertain you at a time when our News-Papers furnish nothing of moment. The Story of Madam Charlotta du Pont, I had from the Mouth of a Gentleman of Integrity, who related it as from his own Knowledge. I have join’d some other Historys to hers, to imbellish, and render it more entertaining and useful, to incourage Virtue, and excite us to heroick Actions, which is my principal Aim in all I write; and this I hope you will rather applaud than condemn me for. The kind reception you have already given the Trifles I have published, lay me under an Obligation to do something more to merit your Favour. Besides, as I am neither a Statesman, Courtier, or modern great Man or Lady, I cannot break my Word without blushing, having ever kept it as a thing that is sacred: and I remember I promis’d in my Preface to the Count de Vineville, to continue writing if you dealt favourably with me. My Booksellers say, my Novels sell tolerably well. I had design’d  to employ my Pen on something more serious and learned; but they tell me, I shall meet with no Incouragement, and advise me to write rather more modishly, that is, less like a Christian, and in a Style careless and loose, as the Custom of the present Age is to live. But I leave that to the other female Authors my Contemporaries, whose Lives and Writings have, I fear, too great a resemblance. My Design in writing, is to employ my leisure Hours to some Advantage to my self and others; and I shall forbear publishing any work of greater Price and Value than these, till times mend, and Money again is plenty in England. Necessity may make Wits, but Authors will be at a loss for Patrons and Subscribers whilst the Nation is poor. I do not write for Bread, nor am I vain or fond of Applause; but I am very ambitious to gain the Esteem of those who honour Virtue, and shall ever be

Their devoted humble Servant,

Penelope Aubin.

THE

LIFE

OF

Charlotta Du Pont.

CHAP. I.

TOWARDS the end of King Charles the Second’s Reign, when a long continuance of Peace, and his merciful Government, had made our Nation the most rich and happy Country in the World; a French Gentleman, whose Name was Monsieur du Pont, being a Protestant, left France, and came and settled near Bristol with his Wife.  He had been Master of a Vessel; with which making many prosperous Voyage to the West-Indies, and other places, he had gain’d a competent Estate; and was now resolv’d to sit down in quiet, and pass the remainder of his Life at ease, in a Country where he might enjoy his Religion without molestation. Having dispos’d of all he had in France, and remitted the Money by Bills into England, to some Merchants his Correspondents here, he chose to settle near this Sea-Port, where he had some acquaintance with the most considerable Merchants, with whom he had traded; having been several times in England before, and perfectly skill’d in our Language.  He put part of his Money into the publick Funds, and with the rest purchas’d a House and some Land, on which he liv’d with his Wife, and some Servants, as happily as any Man on Earth could do; and nothing was wanting but Children to make him completely blest.  He had been marry’d eight Years, and had no Child; but he had not liv’d in this healthful Country above two Years, when his Lady with much Joy told him, she was with Child; at which News he return’d thanks to Heaven with transport, and she was at the expiration of her time happily deliver’d of a Daughter, whose Life is the subject of this History, being full of such strange Misfortunes, and wonderful Adventures, that it well deserves to be publish’d.  They gave her the Name of her fond Mother, Charlotta; and the Child was so beautiful, that every body that saw her, admir’d her.

            ’Tis needless to tell you, that Monsieur du Pont and his Lady bred her up with all the Care and Tenderness imaginable: But it pleas’d God to deprive this little Creature of her dear Mother, before she was five Years old; for Madam du Pont fell sick of a Fever, and dy’d. And now Charlotta was left to her Father’s Care, who, deeply concern’d for his Lady’s Death, look’d on her as the dear Pledge which was left him, of their mutual Affection; and was so doatingly fond of her, that he resolv’d never to marry again, but to make it the business of his Life to educate and provide for her, in the most advantageous manner he was able.

            The Child was beautiful and ingenious, and shew’d so great a Capacity, and so quick an Apprehension in all she went about, that he had reason to hope great things from her. Nor were his Expectations frustrated; for before she was ten Years old, she cou’d play upon the Lute and Harpsichord, danc’d finely, spoke French and Latin perfectly, sung ravishingly, writ delicately, and us’d her Needle with as much Art and Skill, as if Pallas had been her Mistress. Mons. du Pont blest Heaven hourly for her, and delighted in her more than he indeed ought to have done, fancying he could not out-live the loss of her. She was so obedient to his Will, that his Commands were always obey’d, and she never once offended him. But Man is a frail Creature, and there are unlucky Hours in Life, which, if not carefully arm’d against, give us opportunitys of being undone. A Merchant of London, in whose Hands Monsieur du Pont had a great Sum of Money, dy’d, and he was oblig’d to make a Journey to Town, to look after it, and get it out of the Executrix’s Hands, who was look’d upon to be no very honest Woman. He would not venture to take Charlotta with him, for fear she should be disorder’d with the Journey, or get the Small-pox, which she had not as yet had; so he left her with a discreet Gentlewoman, whom he had taken into his House after his Wife’s death, to manage his Servants, and breed her up. And being come to London, to a Friend’s House, where he lay, in the City, and was joyfully receiv’d by him, he did not only take care of his Money-Affair; but was also resolv’d to take a little diversion during his stay in London, where he had not been for many Years; and accordingly he went to Court, and to the Play-houses. His Friend and he being together one Evening at a Play, two very handsom well-drest Gentlewomen came into the Pit, and sat down before them: one of these Ladys was very beautiful and genteel, the other seem’d to be her Companion. Monsieur du Pont felt a strange Alteration in himself at the sight of this Woman: he soon got into discourse with her, presented some Oranges and Sweet-meats to them, and found her Conversation as bewitching as her Face and Mien. His Friend kindly caution’d him, but in vain. In fine, the Play being done, he prevail’d with these Ladys to see ’em home, and ask’d his Friend to go along with him, which he unwillingly consented to: so they usher’d the Ladys to a Coach, into which being enter’d, the Ladys bid the Coachman drive to a Street in Westminster; where, being come, they alighted; and the Gentlemen being invited in, came into a very handsom House, genteely furnish’d. Here they staid Supper, which was serv’d up by two Maid-Servants, being cold Meat, Tarts, and Wine. And now entering into a more free Conversation, the Lady who appear’d to be the Mistress of the House, being her who was the youngest and most beautiful, told them she was a Widow, having bury’d her Husband about two Years before, who was a Country Gentleman, and had left her a moderate Fortune, and no Child: That finding the Country too melancholly for her, she had come to London with this Lady, her Aunt, who was a Widow also; but having had an ill Husband, was not so well provided for, as her Birth and Fortune deserv’d: That they had taken a House in this part of the Town, as most airy and retired, and had but few Visiters: and then excus’d her self with a charming air of Modesty, for having admitted these Strangers to this freedom, to which indeed Monsieur du Pont had introduc’d himself with much importunity. In fine, they past Supper in a very agreeable Conversation, and then respectfully took leave, after having obtain’d the two Ladys permission to repeat their Visits, and continue the acquaintance Chance had so happily begun. One of the Maids having call’d a Coach, Monsieur du Pont gave her half a Crown, and enter’d into it with his Friend, who pleasantly ridicul’d him all the way home, telling him, these Ladys were, doubtless, kept Women and Jilts: but Monsieur du Pont was so inflam’d with Love for the young Widow, that he was deaf to all he said, yet seem’d to hearken to him, and turn the Adventure into a Jest, saying, he did not design to visit them any more.

            Being come home, and gone to bed, the tormenting Passion depriv’d him of Rest, and he lay awake all night, thinking on nothing but this charming Woman. In short, he visited her the next Evening, was entertain’d with so much Modesty and Wit, that he lost all Consideration, and resolv’d, if possible, to gain her for his Wife. And now ’’tis fit that we should know who she was; and that we relate this fair one’s Life and Adventures, whom we shall call Dorinda, in respect to her Family.

CHAP. II.

SHE was the younger Daughter of a Country Gentleman, of a good Family and Estate, and tho well educated, and very witty and accomplish’d, yet being wantonly inclin’d, she at the Age of thirteen, fell in love with a young Officer of the Guards, who came to the Town her Father liv’d in, to visit some Relations. This gay young Rake, who had a Wife and two Children in London, made Love secretly to this lovely unexperienc’d Girl; and having prevail’d with her Maid to let him meet her in a Grove behind her Father’s House, there he pretended honourable Love to her, and promis’d to marry her. In fine, having gain’d her Affections and ruin’d her, and fearing her Father wou’d revenge the Injury he had done him, if he came to the knowledge of it; he one Evening took leave of her to go for London, pretending that so soon as he was arriv’d there, he would employ some of his Friends to get him a better Post, for he was at that time but an Ensign; and then he would write down to his Relations to move his Suit to her Father, and get his consent to marry her. But alas! the deluded Dorinda, young as she was, too well discern’d her Lover’s base design, and was distracted with Shame, Love, and Revenge. She reproach’d him, letting fall a shower of Tears, in Words so tender and so moving, that had he not been a harden’d Wretch, and one of those heroick Rakes that have been vers’d in every Vice this famous City can instruct our Youth in, he would have relented; but he was a complete Gentleman, had the eloquent Tongue of a Lawyer, was deceitful as a Courtier, had no more Religion than Honesty, was handsom, leud, and inconstant; yet he pretended to be much concern’d at leaving her, and made a thousand Protestations of his Fidelity to her. In short, he set out for London the next Morning before Day, and left the poor undone Dorinda in the utmost despair; yet she did not dare to disclose her Grief to any but her treacherous Maid, who had been the Confident of their Amour.

            Some Months past without one Line from him, by which time she had convincing Proofs of her being more unfortunate than she at first imagin’d, for she found she was with Child: this put a thousand dreadful designs into her Head, sometimes she resolv’d to put an end to her wretched Life, and prevent her Shame; but then reflecting on the miserable state her Soul must be in for ever, she desisted from her dismal purpose; and at length, finding it impossible to conceal her Misfortune much longer, she resolv’d to go for London, in search of the base Author of her Miserys. In order to this, she got what Money she could together, and one Evening, having before acquainted her Maid with her design, she pack’d up their Clothes, and what Rings and other things she had of value; and when all the Family were in bed, the Maid got two of the Men-servants Habits, which they put on, and so disguis’d, each carrying a Bundle, they went away from her Father’s House by break of day; the Maid having order’d her Brother, to whom she had told their Design, to meet them a little way from the House with Horses, on which they mounted, and he being their Guide, went with them five and twenty Miles, which was near half of the way to London. There they parted from him, paying him well for his trouble, and he took the Horses back. Nor did they fear that he would make any discovery, because of being so much concern’d in assisting them in their flight.

            They lay at the Inn that Night which he had carry’d them to, from whence a Stage-Coach went every other day to London, and was to set out thence the next Morning. In this Coach they went, and having chang’d their Clothes at a By-Alehouse before they came to this Inn, and given the Mens Habits to the Fellow with their Horses, they appear’d to be what they really were; and Dorinda’s Beauty made a Conquest of an old Colonel, who, with his Son, a Youth, was in the Coach, and soon enter’d into discourse with her. She wanted not Wit; and her Youth, and the fine Habit she had on, inform’d him she was a Person of Birth. He ask’d her many Questions, and made her large Offers of his Service. At last, having been nobly treated by him at Dinner, and being now within five Miles of London, the unfortunate Dorinda, who knew not where to look for a Lodging, nor how to find out the cruel Leander, for so we will call the Officer that had undone her, ventur’d to tell the Colonel, that she was a Stranger to the Town, and should be oblig’d to him very highly, if he could help her to two things, a Lodging in some private House of good Reputation, and a sight of Leander, whom she suppos’d he might have some knowledge of, being an Officer. The old Gentleman was indeed no stranger to him, nor his Vices, and immediately guess’d the blushing Dorinda’s unhappy Condition; he joyfully told her, he was his intimate Friend and in his own Regiment; that he would carry her to a Lady’s House who was his Relation, and should serve her in all things she could desire. Dorinda look’d on this as a Providence: But, alas, it was a Prelude to greater Misfortunes and her entire Ruin. For this Colonel, now believing her already ruin’d, had his own Satisfaction in view, and pitying her Condition, knowing his Friend was already marry’d, thought it would be a Deed of Charity in him to take care of and keep her himself. In order to which, so soon as the Coach came to the Inn in Holborn, he had a Hackney call’d, into which he sent his Son and a Servant that he had with him, who rid up one of his Horses, home to his own House, and went with the Lady and her Maid to a House at Westminster, where a useful Lady liv’d, that is in plain English a private Quality-Bawd, who used to lodge a Mistress for him at any time; a Woman who was well bred, and a very Saint in appearance, and liv’d so privately that her Neighbours knew nothing of her Profession; she pass’d for a Widow-Gentlewoman who let Lodgings to People of Fashion; she kept a Maid-servant, and had always one handsome young Woman or other a Boarder with her, who she pretended were her Kinswomen out of the Country, being call’d Aunt by one, and Cousin by another, as she directed the poor Creatures to stile her. The House was neatly furnish’d, and had no Person in it at that time but the ruin’d Miranda, who afterwards went with Dorinda, and was with her at the Play, when Monsieur du Pont met with them. The Colonel presented Dorinda to this good Lady, giving her a great Charge to be careful of and kind to her: And indeed the Procuress, Mrs. — seeing her so young and handsome, and so well rigg’d, was mighty glad of her Company, and resolv’d to use all her devilish Arts to gain her Esteem and Friendship, in hopes to make a good Penny of her. Some Wine and a Supper were soon got, and the Colonel pressing Dorinda to know who she was and her Circumstances, got her to own to him that his Friend had promis’d her Marriage, and ruin’d her; but she would not tell him her true Name, nor from whence she came, but with Tears besought him to bring Leander to her, which he promis’d to do the next Morning: so took leave, much charm’d with Dorinda, and in his own thoughts condemning his Friend’s baseness.

            He went to his own home to his Wife and Family, and the poor distracted Dorinda was conducted with her Maid to a handsome Chamber; where, the Door being lock’d, and she and her Servant being laid in bed, she began to reflect on her own Condition and Actions. It is impossible to describe in words what she felt when she consider’d, that she had left her tender Parents, blasted the reputable Family she belong’d to, since none but must guess the Cause of her sudden Flight; that she was now in a strange place, and in the Hands of those she knew nothing of; that in case Leander, from whom she had little Cause to expect any good, refus’d to marry and take care of her, she was ruin’d to all intents and purposes; could no more return to her home and family, nor had with her half enough to provide long for her and the helpless Infant she was likely to bring into the World. She shed a flood of Tears, and wish’d for Death a thousand times, and pass’d the Night without closing her Eyes. Thus by one imprudent Action we often ruin the Peace and Quiet of our lives for ever, and by one false step undo our selves. I wish Mankind would but reflect how barbarous a deed it is, how much below a Man, nay how like the Devil ’tis, to debauch a young unexperienc’d Virgin, and expose to Ruin and an endless train of Miseries, the Person whom his Persuasions hath drawn to gratify his Desire, and to oblige him at the expence of her own Peace and Honour. And surely if our Laws be just, that punish that Man with death who kills another, he certainly merits that or something worse, that is, eternal Infamy, who betrays the foolish Maid that credits his Oaths and Vows, and abandons her to Shame and Misery. And if Women were not infatuated, doubtless every Maid would look on the Man that proposes such a Question to her, as her mortal Enemy, and from that Moment banish him from her Heart and Company. Forgive this Digression. Dorinda’s Condition and Wrongs must inspire every generous Mind with some concern and resentment against Mankind.

            The Colonel, who dream’d of her all Night, and was on fire to possess her, sent for his Friend Leander in the Morning to a Tavern, told him of his Adventure, and ask’d him what he meant to do with her, and who she was: But to this last Question he was dumb, well knowing that the wretched Dorinda was the Colonel’s own Niece, being his Sister’s Daughter. He said she was a Country ’Squire’s Daughter in another Town, and that he could do nothing for her, but give her a piece of Money, and remove her to a cheap Lodging, and send her back to her Father’s when she was up again. But the Colonel reprov’d him, and said he would himself pay her Lodging, and contribute something towards providing for her: nay, in short, that if he would quit her Company, he would keep her. But Leander was startled at this proposal, fearing he would discover who she was, and that it would be a Quarrel betwixt them, and his Ruin. He desir’d some time to consider of that; and concluded to go immediately with him to see her. They found her up, her Eyes swoln with weeping: At the moment Leander enter’d the Chamber, she swooned; his Love reviv’d, he catch’d her in his Arms; and the Colonel, disorder’d with this sight, went down Stairs, and left them alone with none but the Maid, who shutting the Door, left them together. ’Tis needless to relate what passionate Expressions pass’d on her side, and Excuses on his. In fine, he told her she was in an ill House, that the Colonel had bad designs upon her, and that he would that Evening fetch her away and take care of her; that she should not discover who she was, as she valu’d her own Peace and his Life. In fine, poor Dorinda, born to be deceiv’d, gave credit to all he said, and follow’d his Directions. The Colonel and he went away together; and in the Evening Leander, having gone to an obscure Midwife’s at St. Giles’s, and took a Lodging for her, fetch’d her away and carried her thither, pretending great Fondness. Here she continu’d some time, never stirring out of doors. He continually visited her, and told the Colonel he had sent her into the Country. At last she was deliver’d of a dead Child, and lay long ill of a Fever. And now Leander being quite tir’d with the Expence, propos’d to her to return home. She urg’d his Promises and Vows to marry her, till he was oblig’d to disclose the fatal Secret to her, that he was marry’d already. But what Words can express her Resentments and Disorder at that instant? In short, he left her in this Distraction, and that Evening sent her a Letter to call him in a Coach alone at a Tavern he appointed, saying he had thought of a means to make her easy. She imprudently went, and there he had hir’d two Bailiffs to arrest her with a fob Action. She was by them carry’d to a Spunging-House, and there kept whilst he sold his Post, and with his Family went into the Country; having the Night he trepan’d her, took away from the Midwife’s her Clothes, Money and Jewels, and discharged the Maid; who not daring to return to her Friends or Mistress’s Father’s, went down to an Aunt she had in another Shire: And when Leander had dispatch’d his Business and was gone, the Officers told her he had releas’d her, and she might go where she pleas’d. She was so weak she could scarce walk, nor knew one step of the way, or the name of the place she was in. One of these Fellows was so moved with her Complaints, that he led her to the Midwife’s House as she directed, having learned the name of the Street during her abode with her. The Midwife, who knew nothing of what she had suffer’d, receiv’d her with amazement, and soon gave her an Account how Leander had taken away all her Clothes, and sent away her Maid, which so afflicted Dorinda that she went half dead to bed; and in the Morning, not knowing what other Course to take, having neither Clothes nor Money, and the Midwife being poor, giving her to understand she could not long entertain her, she resolv’d to seek out the generous Colonel. In order to which she desir’d the Midwife to go with her in a Coach to the Lady’s House at Westminster, to which he had at first carry’d her: They went, found the House, and were receiv’d by Mrs. — with much Civility and Kindness; the Colonel was sent for, and came before Dinner: he took her in his Arms with transport, protested never to part with, but take care of her to death. She related to him Leander’s base usage of her. He told her he had sold his Post, and left the Town: And in short, the Midwife being treated and rewarded for bringing her thither, took leave. The best Rooms in the House were order’d for Dorinda, and the Colonel did that Night sleep in her Arms: Thus her first Misfortune involv’d her in a worse. Some Months she liv’d in this manner, being richly cloth’d and bravely maintain’d by her old Gallant, who doted upon her. In this time she contracted a great Friendship with a young Woman in the House, Miranda, who was very handsome, good-natur’d, and about the Age of Twenty: They were continually together, and lay in one bed when the Colonel did not come to lie there. By this means they became so intimate, that Miranda gave her an Account who she was, and how she came there.

CHAP. III.

SHE told her she was the Daughter of an eminent Divine, who had seven Children, and very good Preferments in the Country; but living very high, and breeding his Children up at a great rate, provided no Fortunes for them, so that dying before they were placed out in the World, they were left to shift, and she being one of the youngest, being then about thirteen, was taken by a Lady to wait on a little Daughter she had about seven Years old, and with the Family brought up to Town; that in a Year’s time her Master, who was a young Gentleman, ruined her; and fearing her Lady should discover the Intrigue, persuaded her to quit her Service, pretending Sickness, and that London did not agree with her; and take leave of her Lady to return to her Mother, who kept a Boarding-School in the Country to maintain her self and the Children, two of the Boys being yet at School, and two Girls at home. But she went not to her Mother as she pretended, but into a Lodging her Master had provided for her. In this House, he for two Years maintain’d and kept her Company; but at last growing weary, gave her a small Allowance, so that by the Bawd’s persuasions, she admitted others to her embraces, and was at this time maintain’d by a Merchant in the City, and concluded her Story with many Tears; saying, she did not like this Course of Life, and wish’d she could find a way to leave it; but that the Bawd always kept her bare of Money by borrowing and wheedling it out of her, and that they were always poor and wanting Money, living, as she saw, very high in Diet; that she had had several Children, but had but one alive, and that was at Nurse at Chelsey, being a little Girl, about three Years old, which she had by a young Lord, who took care of it. Dorinda promised to serve her in all she was able.

            And now a strange Turn happen’d in her Affairs: for the Colonel’s Brother-in-law, Dorinda’s Father, having made all the Inquiry after his Daughter that was possible in the Country, and offer’d a Reward to any that should inform him what was become of her, was at last acquainted with the manner of her going to London by the Maid’s Brother who had procured the Horses for them; on which news he came away for London in search of her; he arrived at his Brother, the Colonel’s House, tells him his business, and begs his Assistance to find her out, knowing nothing who had debauch’d her at first, nor why she fled; tho he too rightly guess’d that must be the occasion of her withdrawing her self. The Colonel, who had never seen his Niece Dorinda in the Country, having not been at his Brother’s House for many Years past, was a little surprized at the Circumstances of Time and Place where he met with this young Woman, and long’d to get to her to question her about it. It was Night when his Brother arrived, so he was obliged to delay satisfying his Curiosity till the Morning; then he went to Dorinda, and telling her the reason of his coming, and that her Father was come, she swooned, and by that too well convinc’d him, that he had lain with his own Niece, and not only committed a great Sin, but dishonoured his Family. He at this moment felt the stings of Guilt, and bitter Repentance; he resolved never more to commit the like: And now of an amorous Lover, who used to teach her Vice, he became a wise Monitor, and preached up Virtue and Repentance; and told her, he would that Day remove her from that ill House, and place her in the Country, give her a Maintenance to live honestly, and, if possible, dispose of her to advantage; that he would endeavour to reconcile her to her Father, provided she would never disclose what had pass’d between them. She gladly agreed to all: And here Providence was so merciful as to give her an opportunity of being happy again; but, alas, Youth once vitiated is rarely reform’d, and Woman, who whilst virtuous is an Angel, ruin’d and abandon’d by the Man she loves, becomes a Devil. The Bawd had prevented all these good Designs from coming to effect, by introducing a young Nobleman into her Company, the most gay agreeable Man in the World, who was very liberal to the Procuress, and made Dorinda such large Presents, and used such Rhetorick, that she could not resist his Sollicitations, but yielded to his Desires. She was for this Cause deaf to Reason, and acquainted Miranda and Mrs. — what had pass’d between her Uncle and her: So it was agreed that she should go where her Uncle desir’d, get what she could, and return to them. In the Evening the Colonel came and took her, and her Clothes away, and carry’d her to Chelsey to a Widow Gentlewoman’s House that was his Friend. The next Morning he return’d with her Father, having told him, that Leander had ruin’d her; and that having fled to London, she had found a Lady of his Acquaintance out, where she had been taken care of for four Days past, having been abandon’d and ill used by Leander: That he had heard of it from this Lady but the Day before his arrival, and counsell’d him to forgive her, and take her home again, or continue her with this good Lady to live privately, and allow her something. This was what the Colonel had contriv’d, and taught Dorinda to say. The Father heard this with great Grief, and swore to take Revenge upon Leander; but that Heaven prevented, for they had news of his Death soon after, being thrown from off his Horse as he was hunting, and kill’d on the spot, in which Heaven’s Justice was sadly manifested.

            Now doting upon the unfortunate Dorinda, he consented to see and provide for her, but not to carry her home to his Wife and other Daughters, lest it should publish his Misfortune more: but resolved to allow her a convenient Maintenance to live with this Gentlewoman, and at his return to say, that she was run away with, and married to a Person much below what he expected, belonging to the Sea; and that he had done what he thought fit for her, and left her in Town. This, he thought, would silence his Neighbours and afflicted Wife, who had been long indisposed with the Grief she had fallen into on her account.

            ’Tis needless to relate what pass’d between the Father and Daughter at their first meeting; the disorder both were in was extraordinary: but having promised to allow her thirty Pounds a Year, on condition she lived soberly and retir’d in this Gentlewoman’s House, and dispatch’d some other Affairs that he had to do in Town, he return’d home; and she remain’d some Days in this place, her Uncle visiting, and frequently admonishing her to live well and repent of her Follies. But she could not bear this Confinement, but long’d to see her young Lover and Friend Miranda again: In short, she watch’d her opportunity one Morning, when the Gentlewoman went out to a Friend that lay sick, who had sent for her; and pack’d up her Clothes, call’d a Boat, and left a Letter on the Table for her Uncle, to tell him, she was gone to Town to live, to the House where he had placed her in before, where she should be glad to see him; and so went away to Mrs. — where she was joyfully receiv’d. The Colonel soon receiv’d the news of her Flight, and the Letter, and went to her, and used all Arguments to persuade her thence, but to no purpose; so she continued there, and had variety of Lovers; learning all the base Arts of that vile Profession: till at last, having been so cunning as to have laid up a thousand Pounds, besides a great Stock of rich Clothes, a Watch, Necklace, Rings, and some Plate, having liv’d in several Lodgings, and been kept by several Men of Fashion, she took Miranda, and furnish’d a House, kept two Maid-servants, and Miranda’s pretty Girl, and liv’d genteely, being visited by none but such Lovers as could pay well for their Entertainment. These were Dorinda’s Adventures past, and the Circumstance in which Monsieur du Pont found her; he visited her every Day, and could not think of leaving London without Dorinda. She wisely considering with her self how precarious the way of Life she followed was, resolved to marry him, but cunningly delay’d it in order to encrease his Passion; pretending that she could not marry so soon after the death of her first Husband, being but two Years a Widow. Monsieur du Pont confess’d his design of marrying her to his Friend; and tho he was much averse to it, yet having no particular knowledge of her, he could not alledge any thing to deter him from it but his own Conjectures. In fine, Monsieur du Pont in two Months time got her consent, and taking his Friend along with him, one fatal Morning went to her House, from whence she, accompanied with her Friend and Confidant Miranda, went with them to St. Martin’s Church, where the Knot was ty’d, and the unfortunate du Pont seal’d his ruin. They return’d to her House, where they din’d merrily, and Monsieur du Pont lay that Night. In a few Days after their Marriage, he importuned her to go home with him into the Country, which she was no ways averse to, because she fear’d the Visits of her Customers, some of whom could not be well deny’d admittance by reason of their Quality, and Power over her; which would discover all to him. He was much pleas’d at her appearing so ready to comply with his desires; and now they prepared for going. At her request, he consented to give Miranda the best part of the Furniture in the House, which she design’d to continue in, and follow the unhappy Trade she had so long been versed in, tho in reality she was much averse to it, and wish’d from the bottom of her Soul, that she could meet with some honest Man that would marry her, to whom she would be true and virtuous, being no ways addicted to Vice, but reduced to it by Misfortune and Necessity.

            And now Dorinda thought to go privately to her Uncle the Colonel, to acquaint him with her good fortune, in hopes he would now appear to credit her. She pretended to him great Repentance for her past Follies, and he gladly receiv’d her, visited her Husband, and own’d her for his Niece; sent down word to her Parents, who were over-joy’d to hear she was reclaim’d, and so well dispos’d of. Her Mother came to Town to see her long lost Child. And now, had she had the least spark of Virtue, she had been truly happy. Monsieur du Pont at last carry’d her home in the Stage-Coach, having sent her Clothes, Plate, and what else they thought fit by the Waggon, and return’d five hundred Pounds, which she had call’d in from the Goldsmith’s where she had plac’d it, by Bills to Bristol. They arriv’d safe, and she was welcom’d by all his Friends, and treated handsomely. She pretended to be charm’d with Charlotta his beautiful Daughter. And for some Months they liv’d very happily.

CHAP. IV.

BUT, alas, a virtuous Life and the quiet Country were things that did not relish well with a Woman who had liv’d a Town-life. Dorinda wanted Pleasure, and soon fix’d her wanton Eyes upon a young Sea-Captain who used to visit at Monsieur du Pont’s. This young Gentleman had been exchanged with a Merchant’s Son in France who was related to Monsieur du Pont, and so became intimate with him, and many French Captains of Ships and Merchants. He was very handsome and lov’d his Pleasures, being a true Friend to a handsome Woman and a Bottle. Dorinda soon made her self understood by him, and he as soon answer’d her Desires, and made Monsieur du Pont the fashionable thing, a Cuckold. She grew big with Child, and was deliver’d of a Daughter, which Monsieur du Pont, who had discover’d something of her Intrigue with the young Captain, Mr. Furley, did not look on with the same tenderness as he did on Charlotta; for which reason she now beheld her with much Indignation and Dislike, tho she conceal’d her Malice and seem’d fond of her. Charlotta did all she was able to please her; but now having got a Child of her own, Dorinda wish’d her out of the World; and her little Darling Diana growing every day more lovely in her Eyes, and her Husband seeming more reserv’d to her, and to take little notice of the Child, so enrag’d her, that she resolv’d to get Charlotta out of her way if possible, that Diana might inherit all the Fortune. Captain Furley went a Voyage or two to France and Holland, and returning, when he came back to visit her, she made known her wicked design to him, and in fine, gain’d him to assist her in it. They contriv’d to send her beyond Sea by some Captain of his Acquaintance, and he pitch’d upon a French Master of a Ship, who was used to trade to Virginia and the Leeward-Islands, a Man who was of a cruel avaritious Disposition, and would do any thing for Money; his Name was Monsieur la Roque. Furley expected him hourly in that Port. Mrs. du Pont, and her Husband, and Charlotta had often gone together on board Ships to be treated by Merchants and Masters her Husband’s Acquaintance, and sometimes without her Husband with some other Friends, and particularly Furley. Captain la Roque being arriv’d at Bristol with his Ship, which was bound to Virginia, Furley acquainted him with their design on Charlotta, and offer’d him such a Bribe as easily prevail’d with the covetous Frenchman to undertake to effect it. So soon as he was ready to sail, he gave them notice; and now the fatal Day was come when the innocent lovely Virgin, who was in the thirteenth Year of her Age, was to be deprived of her dear Father and Friends, and exposed to all the Dangers of the Seas, and more cruel relentless Men. Monsieur du Pont going to take a Walk with a neighbouring Gentleman, Captain Furley came with the French Captain to invite Mrs. du Pont and Charlotta on board; she in obedience to her Mother-in-law’s Desires went with her in the Captain’s Boat, and being come on board they were highly treated, and something being put into some Wine that was given Charlotta, she was so bereft of her Senses, that they put her on the Captain’s Bed, and left her senseless, whilst they took leave of him and went on shore in a chance-Boat which they call’d passing by the Ship, which weigh’d Anchor and set sail immediately. And now Mrs. du Pont, as they had contriv’d, so soon as they were on shore, began to wring her Hands and cry like one distracted, pretending Charlotta was drown’d: She alarm’d all the People as she went along, saying, that she fell over the side of the Boat into the Sea, and no help being near, was drown’d: None could contradict her, because no body could tell what Boat they came in from the Ship, the Boat being gone off before she made the out-cry. Being come home, she threw her self upon her bed; and her Husband being inform’d of this sad News by the Laments of the Servants at his entring into his House, and going up to her, asking a hundred Questions of the manner of it; she so rarely acted her part, that he believed she was really griev’d, and Charlotta certainly drowned; which so struck him to the Heart, that he was seiz’d with a deep Melancholy, and spent most part of his Days in his Closet shut up from Company, and the Mornings and Evenings walking alone in some retir’d place, or by the Sea-shore; so that Dorinda flatter’d her self that she should soon be a Widow, and return to her dear London.

            And here ’tis necessary that we leave them, to inquire after the innocent Charlotta, who waking about Midnight, was quite amaz’d to find her self on a Bed no bigger than a Couch, shut up in a Closet, and hearing the Seamens Voices, soon discover’d the fatal Secret, and knew that she was in the Ship: she knock’d loudly at the Cabin-door, upon which a young Gentleman open’d it, a Youth of excellent Shape and Features, in a fine Habit; he had a Candle in his Hand, and seem’d to view her with Admiration. ‘Lovely Maid, (said he) what would you please to have?’ ‘I beg to know, Sir, (said she) where my Mother and Captain Furley are, and why I am left here alone?’ He remain’d silent a Moment, and then bowing, answer’d, ‘Madam, I am sorry that I must be so unfortunate as to acquaint you with ill News the first time that I have the Honour to speak to you: They are gone ashore, and have sold you to the Captain. I am a Passenger in this Ship, and shall, I hope, be the Instrument of your Deliverance out of his cruel Hands. I was onshore when you were left here, but having seen you come on board, I made haste back, and finding the Ship just under sail, upon my entrance into it ask’d him where you was; on which he told me with joy, that he had you safe in his Cabin, having receiv’d a good Sum to carry you with us to Virginia. I love you, Charlotta, with the greatest Sincerity, and will lose my Life in your defence, both to secure your Virtue and your Liberty. This is not the first time I have seen you.’ At these words he sat down by her, press’d her Hand, and kiss’d her. But what Words can express her Confusion and Grief! She fetch’d a great Sigh and fainted, at which the young Gentleman ran and fetch’d some Cordial-Water from his Chest, and gave her; at which reviving, she fell into a Transport of Sorrow, calling on Heaven to help and deliver her. He waited till her Passion was a little mitigated, and then began to reason with and comfort her, telling her, she must submit to the Almighty’s Will, and that she should look upon his being in that Ship as an earnest of God’s Favour to and Care of her: That he was in Circumstances that render’d him capable of serving her; that his Name was Belanger, and that his Father and her’s had been intimate Friends, being a Merchant who lived at St. Malos, but was dead about seven Months before, having left him and one Daughter in Guardians Hands, he not being yet of Age: That these Guardians us’d him and his Sister ill, having put her into a Monastery against her Will, being ingaged to a young Gentleman whom they would not let her marry, pretending that he was not a suitable Match in Fortune, and that she was too young, being but fourteen, to dispose of her self; which they did with no other design, as he suppos’d, but to keep her Fortune in their Hands as long as they could, in hopes that both he and she might die single, and leave all in their Power, being his Uncles by his Father’s side, and Heirs to the Fortune which was very considerable, in case they dy’d without Issue. That old Monsieur Belanger having Effects to a great Value in Virginia in the hands of a Gentleman who was Brother to Madam Belanger his deceas’d Mother, he was going to this Uncle to get them, and to ask his Assistance to deal with his Guardians, whom he had left, because he had some reason to fear that they design’d to poison him; having been inform’d by a trusty Servant who had liv’d with his Father long, and was now left in his House at St. Malos, that he had over-heard them contriving his Death; that he had taken with him a good Sum of Money, and some Merchandize to trade with in Virginia. And thus Monsieur Belanger having acquainted Charlotta with his Circumstances, concluded with many promises to take care of her in the Voyage, get her out of the Captain’s hands, and marry her when he came to Virginia. She heard him attentively, and answer’d with great modesty, That if he did protect her from being injur’d by others, and acted in delivering her as he pretended, both she and her Father, if they liv’d to meet again, would endeavour to be grateful to him: That she had now resign’d her self to God, and was resolv’d to submit to what he pleas’d to permit her to suffer, and to prefer Death to Dishonour. He embrac’d her Knees, and vow’d to preserve her Virtue, and never suffer her to be wrong’d or taken from him whilst he had a Drop of Blood left in his Veins, but to merit her Favour by all that Man could do, which he as nobly perform’d as freely promis’d. And now poor Charlotta had none but him to comfort her; and tho she strove all she was able, yet Grief so weaken’d her, that in few Days she was confin’d to her Bed. ’Tis needless to relate all that the tender Lover did to render himself dear to the Mistress of his Heart; he tended and watch’d with her many Nights, sat on her Bed-side, and told the tedious Hours, alarm’d with every change of her Distemper, which was an intermitting Fever: he fee’d the Surgeon largely to save her, and at last had the Satisfaction to see her recovering; Youth and Medicines both uniting, restor’d the charming Maid to Health, and Belanger to his repose of Mind; who now seeing the Ship not many Leagues from the desired Port, flatter’d himself that she should be his. But, alas, Fate had otherwise determin’d; their Faith and Virtue was to meet with greater Trials yet, and the time was far off before they should be happy.

CHAP. V.

A Pirate-Ship came up with them in forty five Degrees of Latitude, bearing English Colours, which seem’d to be no Merchant-Ship, but a Frigate with thirty Guns, well mann’d, and they soon discover’d who they were by their firing at them and putting up a bloody Flag, bidding them surrender with their dreadful Cannon. The French Captain la Roque did on this occasion all that a brave Man could, nor did Monsieur Belanger fail to show his Courage, but fought both for his Mistress and Liberty till he was wounded in many places, and retiring into the Cabin to have his Wounds dress’d, found the affrighted Charlotta lying in a Swoon on the Floor: at this sight he forgot himself, and catching her up in his Arms fell back with her, and having lost much blood, fainted; mean time the Villain la Roque was kill’d on the Deck, and the Enemies entring the Ship, soon master’d the few that were left to oppose them, and coming into the Cabin, saw the fair Charlotta and her Lover holding her clasp’d in his Arms as if resolv’d in Death not to part with her. The Pirates, for such they were who had taken the Ship, being English, French and Irish Men belonging to the Crew at Madagascar, were moved at this sight; particularly a desperate young Man that commanded the Pirate-Ship, he was charm’d with the Face of the reviving Charlotta, who lifting up her bright Eyes ravish’d his Soul; he rais’d her up in his Arms, forcing Belanger’s Hands to let her go, he being still senseless: She look’d upon him with much amazement, but was silent with fear. The Pirate-Captain comforted her with tender Words, then she fell at his Feet, and intreated him to pity her Companion, that Gentleman. He presently order’d some Wine to be given him, had him laid on a bed, and his Wounds dress’d; then left her with him, whilst he gave orders how to dispose of the Goods and Men that were left alive in the Ship, commanding the richest Merchandize, some Provisions, and the Guns, and Pouder in it, to be carry’d aboard his own Ship, and the Men and Merchant-Ship to be dismiss’d with what he thought sufficient to support them till they reached Barbadoes or Virginia, excepting no Person but the fair Virgin and her Lover. Whilst he saw these things done, and search’d the Ship, Charlotta had time to bewail her sad state and her Lover’s, who was now so overwhelm’d with Grief and Pain that he could scarce utter his Thoughts in these moving Expressions: ‘My dear Charlotta, ’tis our hard Fate to be now left here alone in the Hands of Men whose obdurate Hearts are insensible to pity, from whom we can expect nothing but ill usage, did not your angelick Face too well convince me that they will spare your Life. Oh! could  I find a way to secure your Virtue, tho with the loss of my Life, I should die with pleasure: but, alas, you must be sacrific’d, and I be left the most unhappy Wretch on Earth, if Providence does not prevent it by some Miracle or by Death. Say, my Angel, what can we do?’ Charlotta shedding a flood of Tears, reply’d, ‘My dear Preserver, my only hope on Earth, all a weak Virgin can do to preserve her Honour, I will do, and only Death shall part us; but let me caution you to say you are my Brother, for the Pirate Captain seems to look on me with some concern; I fear Affection: and if so, should he discover ours to one another, it might ruin us, and cause the Villain to destroy you to possess me, who being left in his Hands when you are gone, shall be forc’d to what my Soul abhors more than Death.’ Belanger pressing her Hand, reply’d, ‘Alas, there needed only that dreadful Thought to end me;’ and so fainted: her Shrieks brought the Pirate-Captain, who was an Irish Gentleman (whose Story we shall relate hereafter) down to the Cabin-door, who seeing her wringing her Hands over the pale young Man who lay senseless, began to suspect he was her Lover, and was fir’d with Jealousy: however he ran to her, and lifting her up in his Arms, ask’d her, who this Person was for whom she was so greatly concern’d? She answer’d, He was her Brother, that they were going from France to Virginia to a rich Uncle, having been cheated by their Guardians of their Fortune in France. And then she fell on her Knees, and besought him with Tears to land them on that Coast, or put them into the next Ship he met with bound to that place or near it. Appeas’d with hearing he was her Brother, tho doubtful of the Truth, he embrac’d her, and promis’d to do what she desir’d; commanding his Surgeon and Crew to do all that was necessary to save the young Man’s Life and recover him. Cordials being given him, and his Wounds carefully dress’d, he got Strength daily. Mean time the Captain had them carefully watch’d to discover whether he was her Brother or not, resolving to get rid of him if his Rival: but Charlotta being on her guard, so well behav’d her self, that he could get no Satisfaction for some time. He daily importun’d her with his Passion for her in Belanger’s Presence, on whom she was continually attending; and told her, If she would consent to marry him when they came a-shore at the Island of Providence, which was at that time the Pirates Place of Rendezvous, he would make her the richest Lady in Christendom, and give her Brother a Fortune, having such immense Treasures bury’d there in the Earth of Jewels and Gold, as would purchase them a Retreat, and all things else they could desire in this World. To all these offers she gave little answer, but modestly excus’d her self from making any Promises, saying she was too young to marry yet, and would consider farther of it when they came a-shore, yet thank’d him for his generous Treatment of them. These Delays still more enflam’d him; he grew every day more earnest and importunate, and often proceeded to kiss her in Belanger’s Presence, whose inward Grief can hardly be describ’d, which his Face often betray’d by turning pale, whilst his enrag’d Soul sparkled in his fiery Eyes when he saw his Mistress rudely folded in another’s Arms. One day Charlotta, willing to change the Discourse of Love, begg’d the Pirate-Captain to inform her who he was, and how he came to follow this unhappy Course of Life; perhaps, said she, being convinced you are well descended, as your Gentleman-like Treatment of us inclines me to believe, I shall esteem you more. Glad to oblige her, he began the Story of his Life in this manner.

CHAP. VI.

I WAS born in Ireland, divine Charlotta, of a noble and loyal Family, who fighting for King James II. were undone: my Father fell with Honour in the Field, our Estate was afterwards confiscated, and my poor Mother, a Lord’s Daughter, left with three helpless Children, of whom I was the eldest, expos’d to want. I was then eighteen, and had a Soul that could not bear Misfortunes, or endure to see my Mother’s condition; so I took my young Sister, who was but ten Years old, and fair as an Angel, and leaving my Mother, and my Brother, but an Infant, at a Relation’s House, who charitably took them in, escaped from my ruin’d Country and Friends to France, hoping to get some honourable Post there, under that hospitable generous King who had receiv’d my Prince. When we arriv’d at St. Germains, having spent what little our kind Friends had given us at our first setting out from home, we were receiv’d but coldly. My Sister, indeed, was by a French Lady taken to be a Companion for her eldest Daughter, something so like a Servant, that my Soul burn’d with Indignation. I waited long to get Preferment, living on Charity, that is, eating at others Tables. At last I fell in company with some desperate young Gentlemen, who, like me, were tired with this uncertain course of life, some of whom had been bred to the Sea: we agreed to go separately to Brest, and seize in the night some small Vessel ready victual’d, and equip’d for a Voyage, some of us having first gone aboard as Passengers. This Design we executed with so good success, that finding a small Merchant-Ship bound for Martinico, we sent five of our Companions, being in all fourteen, as Passengers, on board with our Trunks of Clothes; and pretending to take leave of them, all follow’d, staying till Night drinking Healths with the French Captain, who suspected nothing, and had but eight Hands aboard of twenty six that belong’d to the Ship, which was design’d to weigh Anchor, and set sail the next day: we seiz’d upon him first, and then on his Men, singing so loud that they were not heard to dispute by the Ships who were lying near us in the Harbour: we bound and put them all under Hatches, and set sail immediately, resolving to make for the Island of Jamaica, where we hoped to sell the Merchandize we had in the Ship, which was laden with rich Goods; and having made our Fortunes there, to go for Holland, and settle our selves as Merchants, or look out for some other way to make our selves easy, and gain some Settlement in the World. When we were got to Sea, we fetch’d the Captain up, and told him partly our design: he beg’d to be set ashore with his Men, at some Port of France; pleading he had a Wife and seven Children, and was undone if we carry’d him thence in that manner. So we consented to his desire, and at break of day gave him one of the Boats, and six of the Men to carry him to Land, which I suppose he got safely to, having heard nothing more of him.

            And now we put out all the Sail we could, and had a prosperous Voyage, till we came near Jamaica: there we met a Pirate-Sloop well-mann’d and arm’d, carrying French Colours: we were now most of us sick, and in great want of fresh Water and Provisions. They gave us a Signal to lie by, and we supposing them to be Friends, obey’d, joyful to meet a Ship to assist us: but they soon made us sensible of our mistake, sending their Boat’s Crew on board, who seiz’d us and our Ship, and carry’d us all fetter’d to the Island of Providence; where, in short, we grew intimate with these and other Pirates, and consented to pursue the same course of life. They did not trust us in one Ship together, but dividing us, took us out with them. Ten of us have already lost our Lives bravely; three are marry’d, and command Ships like me; we have vast Treasures, and live like Princes on the spoils of others. ’Tis true, ’tis no safe Employment, for we are continually in danger of death: hanging or drowning are what we are to expect; but we are so daring and harden’d by custom, that we regard it as nothing. For my own part, I am often stung with remorse, and on reflection wish to quit this course of life: I am asham’d to think of the brutish Actions I have done, and the innocent Blood I have spilt, makes me uneasy, and apprehensive of Death.

            And now, sweet Charlotta, I have told you my unhappy Story, ’tis in your power to reclaim and make me happy: promise then to be mine, and I will marry you, and take all the Treasure I am Master of, and with your Brother sail for Virginia; from thence we’ll go for Ireland as Passengers. You shall acquaint your Uncle that we have been taken by Pirates, and left on that place; for my Ship shall in the night make off, and the Boat having landed us, shall return to it; so that we and our Wealth shall be left without fear of discovery. Then he address’d himself to Belanger, saying ‘Sir, I have treated you, for your Sister’s sake, kindly and generously; I expect you should lay your Commands upon her to consent to my request: I would not be obliged to use the Methods I can take to procure what I now sue for; but if I am constrain’d to use force, it will be your own Faults.’ At these Words he went out of the Cabin much disorder’d, and left them in great Perplexity; a death-like Paleness overspread their Faces, and they sat silent for some Moments: Then Belanger fetching a deep sigh, casting his Eyes up to Heaven, said, ‘Now, my God, manifest thy Goodness to us, and deliver us.’ Charlotta would have spoke, the Tears streaming down her pale Cheeks, but he stopp’d her from declaring her sad Thoughts, saying softly, ‘Hush my Angel, we are watched, betray not the fatal Secret that will bring Death to me, and ruin you.’ They compos’d their Looks as much as possible; and three Days pass’d, in which the Pirate-Captain grew so importunate with Charlotta, that she was forced to declare her self in some manner, and told him she was engag’d to a Gentleman in France. At last he grew enrag’d, and told her, he was too well acquainted with the reason of her coldness towards him; and since fair means would not do, he would try other methods. At these words he call’d for some of the Crew, who seizing on Belanger, put him in Irons, and carry’d him down into the Hold. Charlotta transported with grief at this dismal sight, threw her self at the Pirate’s feet, and told him, ‘’Tis in vain, cruel Man, that you endeavour to force me to consent to your desires, I have a Soul that scorns to yield to Threats; nay, Death shall not fright me into a compliance with your unjust Request: I have already given my Heart and Faith to another, and am now resolv’d never to eat or drink again, till you release my Husband, for such he is by plighted Vows and Promises, which I will never break: no, I will be equally deaf to Prayers and Threats; and if you use force, Death shall free me. This is my last resolve, do as you please.’ At these words she rose and left him, and sat down with a look so resolute and calm, that his Soul shook: he sat down by her, and reason’d with her: ‘Charlotta, said he, why do you force me to be cruel? I love you passionately, and cannot live without you: Heaven will absolve you from the Vows you have made, since you shall break them by necessity, not choice; that Sin I shall be answerable for: my Passion makes me as deaf to Reason, as you are to Pity: I beg you would consider e’er it is too late, and I am drove to use the last extremity to gain you. Your Lover’s life is in my power: be kind, and he may live, and be happy with some other Maid; if you refuse my Offers, he shall surely die; I give you to this night to resolve.’ At these words he left her, setting a Watch at the Cabin-door, and taking every thing from her that could harm her. Then he went to the Quarter-deck, and calling for Belanger, who was brought up to him loaded with Irons, he us’d Threats, Intreaties, and all he could think of, to make him consent to part with Charlotta, and assist him to gain her; all which he rejected with scorn and disdain. At last he was so enrag’d, that he caus’d Belanger to be stripp’d, and lash’d in a cruel manner, who bravely stifled his Groans, and would not once complain, lest Charlotta should hear him, and be driven to despair. But the Pirate’s Rage did not end here; he had him carry’d down and shewn to her, the Blood running down his tender Back and Arms, and gag’d, that he might not speak to her: but she, doubtless, inspir’d with Courage from above, supported this dreadful sight with great Constancy and Calmness: ‘’Tis the Will of Heaven, said she, my dear Belanger, that we should suffer thus: Be constant, as I will be, God will deliver us by Death or Miracle.’ The Pirate order’d him back to the Hold, some Brandy being given him to drink, which he refus’d. And now he resolv’d to gratify his Flame, by enjoying Charlotta at Midnight by force: in order to which he left her under a Guard, and return’d not to her till the dead of night, when, being laid on the Bed in her Cabin weeping and praying, almost spent with extream Grief and Abstinence, he stole gently to her, having put on Belanger’s Coat, in hopes to deceive her the more easily; then laying his Cheek to hers, he whisper’d, ‘Charming Charlotta, see your glad Lover loosen’d from his Chains, flies to your Arms.’ She, as one awaken’d from a horrid Dream, trembling, and in suspence, lift up her Eyes amazed, and thought him to be Belanger; when he, impatient to accomplish his base design, proceeding to further Freedoms beyond Modesty, discover’d to her the deceit, which she, inspir’d by her good Angel, seem’d not to know; but taking a sharp Bodkin out of her Hair, stab’d him in the Belly so dangerously, that he fell senseless on the Bed. At this instant a Sailor cry’d out, ‘A Sail, a Sail; where’s our Captain?’ This alarm’d all the Crew, and the Gunner running to the great Cabin-door, which the Captain had lock’d when he went in, knock’d and call’d; but only Charlotta answer’d, he was coming. Mean time the Ship they had seen coming up, gave them such a Broad-side, as made the whole Crew run to their Arms: a bloody fight ensu’d, and Charlotta consulting what to do, believing the Pirate-Captain dead, and being well assur’d the Ship that fought with that she was in, must be some Man of War or Frigate come in pursuit of the Pirates, because she first attack’d them, resolv’d to disguise her self, and go out of the Cabin to see the event, hoping the danger they were in would make them free Belanger. She catch’d up a Cloak that lay in the Cabin, and a Hat, and so disguis’d open’d the Door; but seeing a horrid fight between the Ship’s Crew and the Spaniards, who had now boarded her, (for it was a Spanish Man of War, who was sent out to scour the Pirates in those parts, and having met the French Ship out of which Charlotta had been taken, and by them got Intelligence of this Pirate-Ship, was come in pursuit of them) she did not dare to venture farther than the Door. Mean time the Pirate-Captain recovering from his swoon, got up, so wounded and faint with loss of Blood, that he could scarce craul to the Door, from which he push’d Charlotta, whom he did not at that instant know: he call’d for help, but seeing the Enemy driving his Men back upon him, Sword in hand, he endeavour’d to take down a Cutlass that was near him, and fell down. And now the Spaniards having master’d the Pirates, who were almost all kill’d or grievously wounded, gave over the slaughter; and having secured those that were alive, the Spanish Captain, who was not only a brave, but a most accomplish’d young Gentleman, with some of his Officers, enter’d the great Cabin, in which Charlotta and the half-dead Pirate were: she immediately cast off her disguise, and threw her self at his Feet, begging him in the French Tongue, to pity and protect her, and a young Gentleman whom the Pirate had put in Irons, in the Hold, whose life she valued above her own. He gaz’d upon her with admiration; her Beauty and Youth were such Advocates, as a gallant Spaniard could not refuse any thing to: he took her up in his Arms, promis’d her all she desired, and commanded the young Gentleman should be immediately look’d for, and, if living, set at liberty. Belanger had heard the Guns and Noise, and none but a brave Man can be sensible of what he felt whilst he lay bound in Chains, whilst his Mistress’s Distress and Liberty were disputed, he was even ready to tear his Limbs off to get free from his Fetters; but Heaven preserv’d his Life by keeping him thus confin’d, who else had been expos’d to all the dangers of the Fight. The Spaniards soon found and freed him, bringing him up to the Cabin, where Charlotta receiv’d him with transport; and Gonzalo the Spanish Captain, and his Friends, gave him joy of his Freedom. The Pirate-Captain, at her Intreaty, was taken care of by the Surgeon, his Wound dress’d, and he put to bed, being almost senseless, and in great danger of death. And now a sufficient number of Men, with a Lieutenant, being left on board the Pirate-Ship, Belanger and Charlotta having all that belong’d to them restor’d by the brave Spaniard, went on board his Ship, where they were highly treated, and might in safety bless God, and enjoy some repose.

            The Spanish Ship was bound for the Island of St. Domingo, from whence our Lovers hoped to get passage to Virginia, little foreseeing what changes of Fortune they were to meet with in the Island they were going to. There was on board the Spanish Ship a young Gentleman named Don Antonio de Medenta, the Son of the Governor of St. Domingo, who went, attended by two Servants, as a Volunteer, to shew his Courage, and for Pleasure. He was very handsom, and of a daring and impatient Temper, ambitious and resolute, much respected by all that knew him, his Father’s Darling, and, in short, a Man who could bear no Contradiction. He was so charm’d with Charlotta, that he was uneasy out of her sight; and tho he at first check’d his Passion, as knowing she was promis’d to Belanger, yet it daily increasing, he began to hate him as his Rival, and meditate how to take her from him. It is the nature of the Spaniards, we all know, to be close and very subtle in their designs, very amorous, and very revengeful: this Cavalier wisely conceal’d his Passion from her, and contriv’d to get his Ends so well, that he effected it without appearing criminal. In their passage to St. Domingo, they met a small French Merchant-Ship bound to Virginia, whose Captain was acquainted with Gonzalo: They saluted, and the French Captain came on board; where seeing Monsieur Belanger, he appear’d very joyful. ‘Sir, said he, I have a Lady on board, who has left France to follow you, the charming Madamoiselle Genevive Santerell, your Guardian’s Daughter, who sensible of the Injurys her Father has done you, and constant in her affection to you, is a Passenger in my Ship: I will go fetch her.’ Belanger stood like one thunder-struck at this News, and Charlotta look’d upon him with Disdain and Shame; whilst Joy glow’d in Don Antonio de Medenta’s Face. And now ’tis fit that we should know the unfortunate Maid’s Story, who thus follow’d him that fled from her.

CHAP. VII.

YOU have been already inform’d that this young Lady was Monsieur Belanger’s Guardian’s Daughter, and by consequence his first Cousin; they had been bred up together and design’d for one another: she was fair, wise and virtuous, but yet could not charm Belanger’s Heart tho he did hers; she lov’d him before she was sensible what Love was, and her Passion encreas’d with her Years: her Father did not fail to approve her Choice, because it secur’d the Estate to the Family, and Belanger treated her always with much Respect and Tenderness as his Kinswoman and a Lady of great Merit, but declin’d all Promises of Marriage; she was but little younger than himself, and had refus’d many advantageous Offers, declaring she was pre-ingag’d. She was much concern’d at her Father’s wicked Designs against him, and tho she too well perceiv’d he did not love her as a Lover ought, which indeed her Father hated him for, yet she so doted on him that she resolv’d to serve and follow him to death, flattering her self that since she could not discover he lov’d any other Person, Time and her Constancy would gain her his Affection. When he left France to go for Virginia, she resolv’d to follow him so soon as she could get an Opportunity, in order to which she got what Money she could together, and went disguised like a Man on board this French Ship, where she made her self known to the Captain, having left a Letter for her Father to acquaint him where she was gone. She soon came a-board the Spanish Ship, and seeing Belanger, who could not possibly receive her uncivilly, she ran to him with a Transport that too well manifested her Affection for him. Are we again met, said she, and has Heaven heard my Vows? Nothing but Death shall separate me from you any more. Madam, said he extremely disorder’d, I am sorry that you have risk’d your Life and Honour so greatly for a Person who is unable to make you the grateful Returns you merit; my Friendship shall ever speak my Gratitude: but here is a Lady to whom my Faith is engaged. Too constant Genevive, how is my Soul divided between Love and Gratitude! At these words Charlotta, who was inflam’d with Jealousy and Distrust, seeing how beautiful her Rival was, and reflecting that they had been long acquainted and bred up together, that it was his Interest to marry the French Lady, address’d her self to her in this manner, ‘Madam, your Plea and Title to his Heart is of much older Date than mine; ’tis just he should be yours: and that I may convince you that my Soul is generous and noble, I will save him the confusion of making Apologies to me, and resign my Right in him. Yes, base, ungenerous Belanger who have deceiv’d me, return to your Duty, I will no more listen to your Oaths and Vows, leave me to the Providence of God; I ask no other Favour of you and this Lady, but to assist me to get a Passage home to England.’ Belanger was so confounded, he knew not what to do; he strove all he could to convince Charlotta of his Sincerity, and at the same time not quite to drive a Lady to despair for whom he had a tender regard. Madam Santerell, too sensible that he did not love her, and distracted to see her Rival so ador’d, and her self so slighted and expos’d, did all she was able to augment her Rival’s uneasiness; and now Belanger was so watch’d and teiz’d by both, that he was at his wit’s end. He desir’d to go into the French Ship with the two Ladies to go for Virginia, but Don Medenta secretly oppos’d it, resolving to take Charlotta from him; in order to which he got the Spanish Captain to get Belanger to go on board the French Ship to be merry, which he suspecting nothing did, leaving the two Ladies sitting together in the great Cabin. In some time after the Spanish Captain stepping out of the room goes into his Boat, and returning to his own Ship, whispers Madam Santerell, whom Don Medenta and he had acquainted with their design, and who had willingly agreed to rid her self of her Rival, to go on board the French Ship immediately, which she did. In the mean time Belanger missing Gonzalo, ask’d for him, and was told he was gone to his own Ship, at which he was surpriz’d; but when he saw the Boat come back with one Woman only, his Colour chang’d, and knowing Madam Santerell when she came nearer, he began to suspect some Treachery; he gave her his Hand to come into the Ship, saying, Where is Charlotta that you are come alone? I have brought your Trunks and Things, said she, because she is coming on board when the Boat returns. Whilst they were talking the Boat made off, the Trunks being handed up. He storm’d like a Madman, calling for the French Captain’s Boat: mean time the Spanish Ship made off with all her Sails, being a Ship of War and a good Sailer, which the little Merchant-Ship, which was heavy loaden, could not pretend to overtake. Having thus lost the divine Charlotta, whom he lov’d as much as Man could love, he lost all patience, reproaching Madam Santerell in the most cruel terms, nay even cursing her as the Cause of his Ruin and Death; whilst she endeavour’d to appease him with all the tender soft Expressions imaginable, pretending that she was innocent and knew nothing of the Spaniard’s design. ‘Ah! cruel Belanger, (said she) do not repay my Affection with such unkind treatment: have I not follow’d you, and left my native Country, and all that was dear to me, exposing my self to all the Dangers of the Seas and various Sicknesses incident to change of Climates: In fine, what have I not done to merit your Esteem? And are these the Returns you make me? Must a Stranger rob me of your Heart? Consider what this usage may reduce me to do: If Fate to punish you, has taken her from you, must I bear the blame? ’Tis just Heaven, that in pity to my Sufferings decrees your Separation; and if you cannot love me, yet ’tis the least you can do to use me civilly and send me back to my home, that I may retire to some Convent, and spend my unhappy Life in Prayers for you, for I will pray for and love you to death.’ At these words she fainted and fell down at his Feet. Belanger touch’d with this moving sight, almost forgot his own Griefs, and laying her on his bed in his Cabin, reviv’d her with Wine and Cordials; and seeing her open her Eyes, he took her kindly by the Hand, saying, ‘Charming Genevive, forgive me the rash Expressions I have us’d: urg’d by my Despair I knew not what I did or said; I own the Obligation I have to you, and have all the grateful Sense of it that you can wish; you are dear to me as the Ties of Blood and Friendship can make you, and tho Fate has permitted me to give my Heart to another, yet you shall ever be the next to her in my Esteem.’ These tender Speeches, with many others of the same kind, in some sort comforted the afflicted Lady, who concluded in her self that she should in time, having got rid of her Rival, get his Affection; in order to which she behav’d her self so towards him, and treated him with such Respect and Tenderness, that he was oblig’d to conceal his Grief for Charlotta’s loss, and appear tolerably satisfy’d: yet he was almost distracted in reality, and determin’d to go in search of her so soon as he could get a-shore at Virginia, and find a Ship to carry him to the Island of St. Domingo, to which he knew the Spanish Ship was bound, designing to leave Madam Santerell with his Uncle. Thus resolv’d he seem’d pacify’d, and in a few Days they got into the desir’d Port, and were receiv’d by his Uncle with much Joy. He promis’d upon hearing his Nephew’s Story, to assist him in all he was able, to oblige his Guardians in France to do him and his Sister Justice.

            And now Monsieur Belanger’s whole Business was, to get a Bark to carry him to the Island where he suppos’d his Mistress to be; but the inward Grief of his Mind, and the Constraint he had put upon himself, had so impair’d his Health, that he fell sick of a Fever, which brought him so low that he was ten Months before he was able to go out of his Chamber, his Illness being much increas’d by the Vexation of his Mind: all which time Madam de Santerell waited on and tended him with such extraordinary Care and Tenderness, that she much injured her own Constitution, and fell into a Consumption, at which Monsieur Belanger was much concern’d. In this time he contracted a great Friendship with a young Gentleman, his Uncle’s only Son, a young Man of extraordinary Parts and Goodness, handsome and ingenious; his Name was Lewis de Montandre, which was the Name of Monsieur de Belanger’s Mother’s Family: He was about twenty two Years old, and had travel’d most parts of Europe. To him Monsieur Belanger made known all his secret Thoughts, and Design of going to St. Domingo in search of Charlotta, and he offer’d to accompany him thither and to assist him in all he was able. And here we must leave Monsieur Belanger to recover his Health, and relate what befel Charlotta, who was left in Seignior de Medenta’s Hands and Power.

CHAP. VIII.

WHEN she found the Ship under sail, and discover’d that she was betray’d and robb’d of Belanger, she retir’d to her Cabin, cast her self on her bed, and abandon’d her self to Grief. ‘My God, said she lifting up her delicate Hands and watry Eyes, for what am I reserv’d? What farther Misfortunes must I suffer? No sooner did thy Providence provide me a Friend to comfort me in my Distress, and deliver’d me out of the merciless Hands of Pirates, but it has again expos’d me helpless and alone to Strangers, Men who are more violent and revengeful in their Natures than any I have yet met withal. Perhaps poor Belanger is already drown’d in the merciless Sea by the cruel Medenta, to whom, unless thy Goodness again delivers me, I must be a Sacrifice.’ Whilst she was thus expostulating with Heaven, the amorous Spaniard came to her Cabin-door, and gently opening it, sat down on the bed by her, and seeing her drown’d in Tears, was for some Moments silent: at last taking her Hand he kiss’d it passionately, and said, ‘Too charming lovely Maid, why do you thus abandon your self to Passion? Give me leave to convince you that you have no just cause of Grief, and that I have done nothing base or dishonourable; your Lover had ungratefully left a Lady to whom he had been engag’d from his Infancy, one who highly deserv’d his Esteem, and so lov’d him that you see she has ventur’d her Life and Fame to follow him: To you he was a Stranger, and being false to her he had known so long, you have all the reason in the World to doubt his Constancy to you. Your Rival had resolv’d to rid her self of you, and you were hourly in danger of Death whilst she was with you. Believe me, Charlotta, the fear of losing you whom my Soul adores, made me take such measures to secure your Life, and restore to the Lady her faithless Lover. I am disingag’d, and have a Fortune worthy your Acceptance. This Day, this Hour, if you’ll consent, I’ll marry you to secure you from all fears of being ruin’d or abandon’d by me; and till you permit me to be happy, I’ll guard and wait on you with such respect and assiduity, that you shall be at last constrain’d to own that I do merit to be lov’d, and with that lovely Mouth confirm me happy.’ She answer’d him with much reserve, wisely considering in her self, that if she treated him with too much rigor, he might be provok’d to use other means to gratify his Passion; that she was wholly in his Power, and unable to deliver her self out of his hands. In fine, some days past, in which she was so alter’d with Grief, that her Lover was under great concern, he treated her with all the Gallantry and tender Regard that a Man could use to gain a Lady’s Heart; he let nothing be wanting, but presented her with Wines, Sweetmeats, and every thing the Ship afforded, offering her Gold and Rings, and at length perceiv’d that she grew more chearful and obliging, at which he was even transported. The Weather had till now been very favourable; but as they were sailing near the Summer-Islands, a dreadful Storm or Hurricane arose, and drove them with such Fury for a Day and a Night, that the Ship at last struck against one of the smallest of them, and stuck so fast on the Shore that they could not get her off, which oblig’d them to get the Boats out, and lighten the Ship of the Guns and heaviest things, in doing which they discover’d that the Ship had sprung a Leak; this made them under a necessity of staying on this Island for some Days to repair the Damage. The Captain, Charlotta, Don Medenta, and all the Ship’s Crew went on shore; they found it was one of those Islands that was uninhabited, so that they resolv’d to go thence as soon as they could to Bermudas; but Providence had decreed their stay there for some time. The Night they landed about Midnight, the Sky darken’d extremely, and such a Storm of Lightning and Thunder follow’d, that the Ship took fire, and was consum’d with all that was left in it; the affrighted Charlotta, who had no other covering to defend her but the Tents they had made of the Tarpaulins and Sails, now thought her Misfortunes and Life were at an end; her Lover and all the rest recommended themselves to God, not expecting to survive that dreadful Night. Some of the Ship’s Crew venturing to look out after the Ship, were lost, being blown into the Sea, and the Morning shew’d the dismal Prospect of their flaming Ship, which lay burning on the Shore almost intirely consum’d. All the hope they now had left, was that some Boats or Barks would come to their Relief from the adjacent Islands. The Storm being over towards Evening, after having taken some Refreshment of what Provisions and Drink they had left which they had brought on Shore, they ventur’d to walk about the Island, on which was plenty of Fowl and Trees. Don Medenta leading Charlotta, they wander’d to a Place where they saw some Trees growing very close together, in the midst of which they perceiv’d a sort of Hut or Cottage made of a few Boards and Branches of Trees, and coming up to it saw a Door standing open made of a Hurdle of Canes; and concluding this Place was inhabited by somebody, curiosity induced them to look into it. There, stretch’d on an old Matrass, lay a Man who appear’d to be of a middle Age, pale as Death, and so meagre and motionless, that they doubted whether he was living or dead, his Habit was all torn and ragged, yet there appear’d something so lovely and majestick in his even dying look, that it nearly touch’d their Souls. Don Medenta going into this poor Hut, took him by the Hand, and finding he was not dead, spoke to him, asking if he could rise and eat, who he was, and other Questions, to all which he made no answer, but look’d earnestly upon him. Mean time Charlotta ran and fetch’d a Bottle of Rum, returning with such incredible speed that only that ardent Charity that inflam’d her generous Soul could have inabled her to do; Don Medenta pour’d some of this Rum into his Mouth, but it was some time before the poor Creature could swallow it; at last he seem’d a little reviv’d, and said in French, God preserve you who have reliev’d me; he could say no more, but fainted: Don Medenta repeating his charitable Office, gave him more Rum, whilst Charlotta fetch’d some Bread and Meat; he swallow’d a Mouthful or two, but could eat no more. By this time the Captain and other Officers came up, and were equally surpriz’d at so sad an Object; two of the Seamen were order’d to stay with him that Night, and the next Morning Charlotta and the rest return’d to visit him, impatient to know who he was, and how he came in that condition. He was come a little to himself, and receiv’d them in so courtly a manner, tho he was unable to rise up upon his Feet his Weakness was so great, that they concluded he was some Man of Quality; and after some Civilities had pass’d, Don Medenta beg’d to know who he was. I will, said he, if I am able, oblige you with the recital of a Story so full of Wonders, that it will merit a place in your Memories all the Days of your Lives; you seem to be Gentlemen, and that young Lady’s Curiosity shall be gratify’d. Don Medenta bowing, seated Charlotta and himself on the Ground by him, the Captain and the rest stood before the Cottage-door; and the Stranger having taken a Piece of Bisket and a Glass of Wine, being very faint, began the Narrative of his Life in the following manner.

CHAP. IX.

‘I Was born in France at St. Malos, my Father was a rich Merchant in that Place, his Name was du Pont, I was the youngest of  two Sons which he had, and being grown up to Man’s estate, my Father was mighty sollicitous to see me dispos’d of advantageously, hoping I should marry such a Fortune as might provide for me without lessening his own, so that my elder Brother might be advanced to a Title which he design’d to purchase for him, or some great Employ. This he was continually rounding in my Ears. But, alas, my Soul was averse to his Commands, for I had already engaged my Affections to a young Lady whom I had unfortunately seen when I was but fifteen, at a Monastery to which I had been sent by my Father, to see a Kinswoman who was a profess’d Nun there; visiting her, I saw this fair young Pensioner, who was then about fifteen Years old; she was beautiful as an Angel, and I found her Conversation as charming as her Face; her Name was Angelina: and the Monastery being at a Village not above ten Miles distant from St. Malos, I used secretly to visit her at least once or twice a Week, so that I got her promise to marry me so soon as I was settled in the World. She told me she was the only Daughter of an old Widow Lady who lived fifty Miles distant, was extreme rich, and had placed her there, because the Abbess was her Mother’s Sister; that her Fortune was left her at her Mother’s disposal. This was her Circumstance, which oblig’d me, being a younger Brother, to defer marrying her till I had got some way so provided for, that I might venture to take her without asking our Parents consent: and this delay was our undoing, for when I was twenty, an old Widow-Lady came to my Father’s on some Money-Affairs, and was lodg’d at our House, where she took such a fancy to me, that she boldly sollicited my Father to lay his Commands upon me to marry her, which offer he readily accepted; and having laid all the Advantages of this rich Match before me, concluded with injoining me with the strictest injunctions to marry her forthwith. I pleaded in vain that I was pre-ingag’d to another. He told me in a rage, I must take my Choice, either to consent or go out of his Doors immediately, protesting he would never give me a Groat, and disown me if I was disobedient to his Commands. But when I proceeded in the humblest manner to make known who the Person was to whom I was preingag’d, Good Heavens! how was I surpriz’d to find it was this Lady’s Daughter? And now the fatal secret being known, Angelina was in few days remov’d out of my sight and knowledge, being taken away from the Monastery, and sent I knew not whether. Some Months past in which I busied my self in making inquiry after her, but all in vain; at last, quite weary’d out with my Father’s Threats and the Widow’s Importunities, I consented to be wretched and marry’d her, whom in my Soul I loath’d and hated; nor had I done it, but in hopes to get to the knowledge of the place where my dear Angelina was conceal’d from me, resolving never to consummate my Marriage with her Mother; which way of proceeding so enrag’d her, that we liv’d at continual variance: yet shame withheld her from declaring this Secret to the World; together with spight, because she would continue to plague me by living with me. At last, by the means of one of the Servants, whom I brib’d, (having now all her Fortune at command, which I took care to manage so well, that I laid by a great Sum of Money to provide for me and Angelina, with whom I resolv’d to fly from France so soon as I could find her) I got knowledge that she was lock’d up in a Convent near Calais; on which I converted all my Money secretly into Gold and Bills of Exchange, resolving to set out for England with her so soon as we could get off, having there an Uncle at Bristol, my Father’s Brother.’ At these Words Charlotta look’d earnestly upon him, surpriz’d to find he was her Cousin-German. But he continu’d his Discourse thus: ‘But now I was in a great Dilemma how to get to the Speech of her to inform her of my Design, as likewise how to get away from my Wife, who was continually hanging upon me and following of me, fearing she should discover whither I was going, being certain she would remove Angelina from the Convent. I therefore pick’d a Quarrel one Evening with my Wife about a Trifle on purpose, and the next Morning took horse by break of day, attended with only one Servant in whom I could confide, and set out for St. Malos, where being arriv’d, I hir’d a Vessel to carry me to Calais, fearing to be follow’d if I had gone by land; the Wind was contrary for some days, so that my revengeful Wife had time to send for Angelina from the Convent. At my arrival there, I had the Mortification to find her gone, but none could, or indeed would, inform me whither she was carry’d: this so exasperated me against my Wife, that I resolv’d not to return home any more: So I went directly to my Father’s, and staid there a Month, pretending Business with some Masters of Ships that were expected to come into that Port. Mean time my Wife got intelligence where I was, and came to me: I receiv’d her civilly before my Father; but at Night, when we were in bed, we fell into a warm dispute, which ended in a Resolution on my side to leave her for ever, with which I acquainted her; but then she fell to Intreatys, and in the softest Terms laid before me my Ingratitude to her, and how wicked my design was upon her Daughter; pleading, that as she was my Wife, she had all the reason in the World to keep me from the Conversation of a Person whom I lov’d better than her self; that she had made me master of a plentiful Fortune, and conceal’d from the World the high Affront I had put upon her, in refusing to perform the Duties of a Husband to her. To all which I answer’d, That as for the Ceremony of our Marriage, I look’d upon it as nothing, since I was compel’d to it; that I had deny’d my self all converse with her as a Wife, because I would not commit a Sin, by breaking my solemn Vows and Engagements with her Daughter, whom I had made choice of before I saw her; and since there was no other way left to free me, I resolv’d to declare all to the World, and annul our Marriage, and restore what Money and Estate I had remaining in my hands to her. At these Words she flew into a violent Passion.  Well then (said she) since you will thus expose me, I’ll do my self this Justice, to remove Angelina from your sight for ever; be assur’d you shall never see her more in this World. She that moment leap’d out of Bed, call’d for her Servant, and put on her Clothes; and tho I us’d many Intreaties to deter her, nay proceeded to Threats, yet she persisted in her Resolution, and going down to my Father, acquainted him with all that had pass’d between us, desiring him to prevent me from following her, which he, being highly incens’d against me, too well perform’d: for he came up to my Chamber, where I was dressing in order to follow her, but he kept me there in discourse whilst she took Coach and was gone I knew not whither, nor could I for some days hear any news of her. Mean time my Father and Brother continually persecuted me on her account, bidding me go home and live like a Christian; nay they employ’d several Priests and the Bishop of the place to talk to me, so that I was now look’d on with much dislike; and being weary of this schooling, I set out for home, where I found my Wife sick, which indeed so touch’d me, that I repented of having us’d her so unkindly, and resolv’d to treat her more respectfully for the time to come. A whole Year past, all which time she languish’d of a lingring Fever and inward Decay, Grief having doubtless seiz’d her Spirits. I us’d her with as much Tenderness as if I had been her Son; we never bedded together, but kept two Apartments. In fine, she dy’d, and on her Death-bed, some Hours before she expir’d, took me by the Hand as I sat on her bed-side, and said these Words to me, which are still fresh in my Memory, Du Pont, I am now going to leave you, and I hope to be at rest; I have lov’d you as tenderly and passionately as ever Wife did a Husband; and tho I committed a great Folly in marrying a Person who was so much younger than my self, and pre-ingag’d, yet no vitious Inclinations induc’d me to it, as my Behaviour to you since must convince you. I flatter’d my self, that Gratitude and my Behaviour towards you, would have gain’d your Love, but was deceiv’d. I have never been to blame in all my Conduct towards you, but to my Child I have been cruel and unkind; for fearing a criminal Conversation between you if you came together, I us’d all my endeavours to keep you asunder, and finding that even the Convents could not secure her, provok’d by your ill usage, at last I resolv’d to send her out of France, which I effected by means of a Captain of a Ship which was bound to Canada, who took her with him with a Sum of Money, promising to see her there dispos’d of in Marriage to some Merchant or Officer in those Parts, which we doubted not but she would readily consent to, finding her self among Strangers, and bereft of all hopes of seeing you any more. I have never heard of her since. This Action I heartily repent of, and to expiate my Fault, I shall leave you all my Fortune, with a strict Injunction, as you hope for everlasting Happiness hereafter, to go in search of her, and employ it in endeavouring to find her; and if she be marry’d, give her part to make her happy: and may that God, whose merciful Forgiveness and Pardon I now implore, direct and prosper you, and bring you safe together, if she be yet single. I can do no more, but ask you to accept of this my last Action as an atonement for all the Trouble I have occasion’d you, and not hate my Memory. I was so struck with hearing Angelina was sent so far off, and so disarm’d of my Resentments by the sight of my Wife’s Condition, who was now struggling with Death, that the Tears pour’d down my Face, and my Soul was so oppress’d, that I swooned; which so disturb’d her, that her Confessor, who was present at this Discourse, order’d me to be carry’d out of the Room.’ Here he seem’d faint, and Don Medenta gave him some Wine; after which he continu’d his Relation in this manner. ‘Recovering from my swoon, I soon discover’d by the Out-cries and Lamentations of the Servants that my Wife was dead. I behav’d my self with all the Decency and Prudence I was able on this occasion, and bury’d her suitable to her Birth and Fortune; after which I thought of nothing but my Voyage to Canada, having inform’d my self of the Ship and Captain’s Name, who carry’d away Angelina; which was not return’d, or expected back to France in three Years, being gone a trading Voyage for some Merchants at Diep. I left my Father to take care of the Estate, who sent my Brother to reside there; made my Will, and having provided my self with Money, Bills of Exchange, and all other Necessaries, I went a board a Merchant Ship call’d the Venturous, bound for those Parts to trade, not doubting but that we should meet with the Captain there who had convey’d Angelina thither, and then there was no question but I should make him confess where he had left her. We had a prosperous Voyage for some Weeks, but coming near Newfoundland, we unfortunately met a Pirate-Ship who boarded and took us after a fierce dispute which lasted three Hours, in which our Ship was so shatter’d, that she sunk as they were rifling of her; in which Accident several of the Pirates perish’d, and all the Passengers and Sailors belonging to our Ship, except my unfortunate self and Surgeon, who were taken up by Ropes into the Pirate-Ship, where we were put in Irons into the Hold, I suppose because they were in an ill Humour at the loss of their Companions and the Ship. Some days past before we had the Favour of being brought up upon the Deck, and our Irons taken off. We were both very sick; as for my part, I was so afflicted at being prevented from going my intended Voyage, that I was careless of what became of me. There was amongst the Pirates some that look’d like Gentlemen, but they all talk’d and behav’d themselves like desperate Villains, Oaths and Curses were as common as in a Gaming-House, they drank like Germans, and discours’d like Atheists and Libertines; they ask’d us many Questions, who and what we were, to all which we answer’d cautiously. I told them, if they would set me on any Shore thereabouts, from whence I might travel by Land, or get Shipping to Canada, I would promise if I liv’d to return to France, to remit a thousand Pistoles to any part of the World, or Person they should name; they took little notice of my offers, but let us have the liberty of walking in the day-time on the Decks, and at Night they put us under Hatches. At last we arriv’d at the Island of Providence, where they were receiv’d by their Companions with much Joy. We remain’d in this wretched Place ten whole Months, in which time they us’d us like Slaves, with many others whom they could not prevail with to take up their desperate manner of living. At last, wearied with this way of Life, we desir’d to go out in one of their Ships, desiring them to treat us as we should deserve by our Bravery and good Behaviour: They consented; and now all my hopes were that I should meet a welcome Death to free me from the Miseries of Life, or find some way to escape from them. There were beside my self and Friend, six Gentlemen, three of whom were Spaniards, and the other three English, who, like us, went with them thro necessity; the Ship was a Frigate of 30 Guns, and carry’d 140 Hands: they design’d to cruise near the Havana, in hopes to catch some of the Spanish Ships coming out thence: As we lay cruising at some distance, a dreadful Storm arose, which at last tore our Ship in pieces near this Island where we now are; every Man was oblig’d to shift for himself; I catch’d hold of a Plank, floating on which, it pleased Providence to cause the Winds and Waves to cast me on this Place much bruis’d; here I have been three Weeks. I made this Hut with some old Planks and what I found on the shore, to secure me from the Cold and Storms; this old Matrass and Coat I also found; all my Food has been the Eggs of Sea-Fowls and Birds, which I have daily gather’d up on the Sands and in Holes in the Rocks and hollow Trees; but the anguish of my Mind, with the Bruises I receiv’d in my Stomach in the Shipwreck, had at last reduced me to such Weakness, that I could no longer rise on my Feet to seek for Food; and when divine Providence brought you here to my Relief, I had been three whole Days without tasting any sustenance, and had by this been freed from my Miseries.’ Then he fetch’d a deep sigh, concluding his Story with these Words: ‘Yet I am in duty bound to thank God and you, and hope, since he has prolong’d my stay on Earth a little longer, that he will make Life supportable, by furnishing me with means to find her out, without whom I must be ever wretched.’

And now Charlotta acquainted him who she was, and in few Words of the manner of her coming to that Place; at which he was fill’d with Admiration: But he was so amaz’d when he heard that Monsieur Belanger and Madam de Santerel had left France in such a manner, that he could scarce credit it, they being his intimate Friends; yet she in the relation spar’d to mention Don Medenta’s Treachery, or Belanger’s Love to her, saying only he was gone to Virginia in a French Ship. And now the Conversation turning to be general, every Person spoke their Sentiments of Du Pont’s Adventures; some days pass’d with much anxiety, Provisions were husbanded, and their fears of wanting daily increas’d; yet du Pont mended, and Company render’d their solitary way of living in this desolate Place more supportable; they were hourly in expectation of seeing some Ship pass by to the adjacent Islands, having plac’d a white Cloth on the Top of a Stick on the most eminent part of the Island, to give notice of their Distress: thus they spent three whole Weeks, in which time most of the Victuals they had sav’d were spent, and the dreadful Apprehensions of Famine appear’d in every Face, and every one walk’d about looking what they could find to eat, in hopes to satisfy Nature without diminishing the small Stock of Provisions they had left. Don Medenta, who was one of the most vigilant in searching out something to give Charlotta fit for her to eat, went one Morning to the farthest part of the Island, which was about seven Miles over, and there ascending a high Rock, stood looking on the Sea, and saw a Boat fasten’d in a little Cliff of the Rock, out of which Cliff a Blackmoor Man came, and launching out the Boat, put off to Sea, making towards another Island. Don Medenta concluded this Person liv’d somewhere in this Rock, and resolv’d to search about it in hopes to discover some Persons there, by whom he might be assisted and his Friends, to get from this dismal Island, or at least to wait the Man’s return, or find out his abode, in order to return thither that Evening. He found it very dangerous to descend on that side of the Rock next the Sea, and was long e’er he could find the Place out of which he saw the Man come forth; but at last he perceiv’d a sort of a Door, which seem’d to shut in a Place that was the Entrance of a Cavern in the Rock: but it was fast lock’d, and he could not discern through the Keyhole any thing but a glimmering Light, yet he heard a human Voice like a Woman’s, talking to a Child, but he understood but little of it, because it was a Language he could not speak much of, being English; he waited some Hours, but finding the Man did not return, he went away, and hasten’d to Charlotta with the glad Tidings that he had found a Boat, and Persons on the Island. Both she and the whole Company were agreeably surpriz’d with this News; and the Captain, Monsieur du Pont, Don Medenta and Charlotta, all resolv’d to make their Evening’s Walk to this Place.

CHAP. X.

ACcording to the Resolution taken in the Morning, Charlotta and the rest walk’d to the Rock in the Evening, and getting up to the top of it, saw from thence the black Man standing at the entrance of his Cave, with a white Woman who seem’d to be very young and very handsom; she had a Molotta Child in her Arms about a year old, her Gown and Petticoat was made of a fine Silk. Don Medenta call’d to them in French, at which the Man look’d up; and Charlotta spoke in English to the Woman, desiring her to come up and speak to her; on which the Blackamoor push’d the Woman in, and returning no answer, shut the door upon himself and her. Don Medenta and the rest concluded, that they fear’d being discover’d; so they all descended the Rock and went to the Door, resolving to force it open if they could not gain entrance otherwise, and remove their Fears by speaking gently to them, and acquainting them with their Distress. They knock’d and call’d at the Door for some time; but hearing a noise within, and no answer, they broke open the Door with much difficulty, and entring, went thro a narrow Passage in the Rock, so strait that but one Person could go a-breast; at the end of which they came into some strange Rooms fashion’d by Nature, tho cleans’d of Moss and loose Stones by labour: Into these Light enter’d by the Holes that were in some places open thro the top of the Rocks; but some part of the Caves, or Caverns (for they were scarce fit to be call’d Rooms) were very dark. In the biggest Room was a Lamp burning, and here they saw two Chests lock’d, and on a Shelf some Platters and Bowls made of Calibash-shells, with two or three wooden Spits; and some Sticks were burning in a corner of the Room, in a place made with Stones pil’d round, and opening in the front like a Furnace, on which stood a Pot, wherein something was boiling. There likewise hung up some Fishing-tackle and a Gun with a Powder-horn, as also a Bow with a Quiver of Arrows. In a place which was shut with a Door, like a Cupboard, stood Bread and Flower, and on the Table (for there was a very odd one, and Stools, which seem’d to be of the Negro’s own making) stood a Basket with some clean Linen for a Child, and some Canvas cut out for Slaves Jackets and Drawers. In another Room they saw a Quilt and Coverlids lying on some Rushes on the Floor; but they could find no living Creature, at which they were much amaz’d. They call’d, and spoke in the softest terms, desiring them to come forth, if hid there, promising to do them no harm; but in vain. At last they heard a Child cry, and following the sound of the Voice, went thro a narrow Turning on the right Hand, which brought them to a Place where a Door was shut, before which lay a terrible Bear: Don Medenta, who was the foremost, carrying the Lamp in one hand, and his Sword in the other, being presently more apprehensive of Charlotta’s danger than his own, she being next behind him, ran at the Bear, designing to kill it, if possible, before it could rise; but was stop’d by the sound of a human Voice which came from that Beast, saying, ‘For Heaven’s sake, spare my life, and I’ll do all you’ll have me.’ At these words the Negro came out of the Bear’s Skin, and threw himself at Medenta’s Feet, who took him up; and Charlotta bid him fear nothing, they being Persons in distress, that wanted his assistance, and would pay him nobly for serving them. Then he open’d the Door he had lain before in the Beast’s Skin, and brought forth the young Woman and Child, whom Charlotta embrac’d, whilst the poor Creature wept for joy to see a Christian white Woman. And now they were all chearful, and the Negro being told, that they wanted nothing but his assistance, to carry one of them to any of the adjacent Islands that was inhabited to get them some Provisions, and hire a Vessel to carry them to the Island of St. Domingo, he readily promis’d to do it: ‘My Boat, says he, will carry no great weight, being a small Canoe which I made my self; but it will carry me and one more, with some small quantity of Provisions.’ And now they were all impatient to know how this beautiful Woman and black Man came to this place; which they found she seem’d not willing to declare whilst the Negro was present: and therefore Charlotta beg’d that she might accompany her whilst he brought the Boat round to the other side of the Island, to take in one of the Sailors; not thinking it safe to trust Don Medenta, or one of the Gentlemen with him, in so slight a Vessel. This the Negro did not seem to be pleas’d withal, but yet dar’d not refuse it. He us’d to drag his Boat up out of the Water into a Cleft, where it was impossible to be seen. And now the transported Woman, with her tauny Child, accompany’d Charlotta to her Tent, and in the way recounted her sad Story in these Words.

MY Name is Isabinda: I am the Daughter of a Planter in Virginia, who has a great Plantation there, is extremely rich; and having no more Daughters than my self, bred me up in the best manner, sending me to England for Education, from whence I return’d at thirteen years old. I was courted by several, and by one in particular whom I liked, and my Father did not disapprove of; but it was my unhappy Fate to be miserably disappointed of all my hopes. Amongst a great many Negro-Slaves whom my Father had to work in our Plantation, he you saw was one, who appearing to be bred above the rest, and more capable of being serviceable in the House, was taken into it. He was about twenty Years old, handsom and witty, could read and write, having (as he pretends) been a Prince in his own Country, and taught several Languages and Arts by a Romish Priest, who was cast ashore at Angola, from whence he came. He behav’d himself so well, that he gain’d my Father’s Favour, and us’d often to wait on me when I walk’d out in an Evening, or rid out, running by my Horse’s side; in short, he was ever ready to do me Service. We had a Pleasure-boat, having a City-house at James-Town; and when I was there, I us’d often, with my Companions, to go on the Water in the Evenings for pleasure, and then he us’d to steer the Boat. He made himself the little Boat you saw here, on pretence to go out a fishing for me, which much pleas’d my Father, the fashion and usefulness of it being extraordinary; for it sails swift, and bears a rough Sea beyond any thing we had ever seen. He us’d to catch Fish very dexterously, as he did every thing he went about: He could paint, understood Navigation, the Mathematicks; and in short, was so beloved by my Father, that he would have freed him, had he not fear’d losing of him. And now Domingo, for that is his Name, became enamour’d with me, and lift up his aspiring Eyes to my unhappy Face: His Passion increas’d with time, and at last he resolv’d to possess me, or die in the attempt. Had he but once given me the least Intimation of his Passion, I should have acquainted my Father with his Insolence, and his Death would have prevented my Ruin: but this he knew, and therefore so well kept the Secret to himself, that no body suspected it. He had taken care to provide some Bread and Money, by selling some Tobacco, and little Mathematical Instruments and Pictures he had made, my Father having given him a little piece of Ground to plant, to buy him Linen, allowing him to go finer drest than other Slaves. He also permitted him, when we went to the Town, to sell Trifles that he made. In fine, he waited only an opportunity to get me into his little Boat, which he thus effected: One Evening, the Sea being very calm, he sat in the Boat a fishing, having hid the Bread and Money in it; I walking down with my Maid, to see what he had caught for my Supper, he persuaded me to step into the Boat, and sit down. ‘Now, Madam (said he) you shall see Sport.’ He was pulling in a little Net; I sat down, and the Maid stood on the Shore. He, in dragging the Net, loosed the Boat from the Shore, which beginning to drive out to Sea, surpriz’d me; but he bad me sit still, and fear nothing. I sat very patient for some time, till at last seeing him hoist the Sail, and go farther from Land, I began to be frighten’d; he pretended to be so too, and persuaded me he could not help it, that the Wind and Stream drove the Boat against his Will. He pull’d a little Compass out of his Pocket, by which he steer’d. We were two Nights and Days thus sailing, in which time we pass’d by some Islands, on which he pretended he could not land, because, as I since discover’d, he knew they were inhabited, and had before mark’d out this desolate Place to carry me to. At last he brought me hither half dead with the fright, and faint, having eat only a little of the Bread, and drank out of a Bottle of Wine which he had in the Boat, in which he had put his Tools for making Mathematical Instruments, and Colours for Painting. When we were landed, he seem’d mighty sollicitous where to find a Place for me to lie down, and Food for me; and brought me into the Cavern in the Rock: There being seated on his Jacket, on the Ground, we eat what Fish he had in the Boat, broil’d on a Fire he made with Sticks, having a Tinder-box in his Pocket. After we had eat he told me his Design. ‘My dear Lady, said he, I love you to madness, and was resolv’d to possess you or die: Tho my Out-side is black, and distasteful, I fear, to your Eyes, yet my Soul is as noble and lovely as your own. I was born a Prince, and free; and tho Chance made me a Slave, and the barbarous Christians bought and sold me, yet my Mind they never could subdue. I adore you, and have long design’d what I have now effected. No human Creature dwells here besides ourselves, and from this place you never must expect to return.’ Here he proceeded to kiss me, my Distraction was such, that I swooned; he took the advantage of those unhappy Minutes, when I was unable to resist, and, in fine, has kept me here two whole Years, maintaining me by carrying what he makes to the adjacent Islands; where he sells his ingenious Work to the Inhabitants, and brings back Provisions and Clothes for us: from thence he brought all you see in our miserable Habitation; and to employ me, he brings Work from these People. I make Clothes for the Slaves, and by this means, and his Fishing and Shooting, we have Food enough. I had a Pearl Necklace, and some Rings in my Ears and on my Fingers, of value, when he brought me here; which he sold, and traded with the Money. I have had but this Child by him, which he doats on. He is a Christian, and would gladly marry me. He is so jealous, that whenever he discovers any body landed on the Island, he always locks me up, if he goes out; and lives in continual fear, lest my Father should make any discovery where we are, and send some to take me from him; in case of which I believe he would certainly kill me. He told me of your being here some days since, and warn’d me not to venture forth; which indeed I long’d to do, in hopes to meet with somebody to converse withal, being weary of living such a solitary miserable Life. When he found you were resolv’d to enter our Being, which he thought secure, he put me into the Room you saw me in, and placed himself before it in the Bear’s Skin; a Stratagem he had invented long before, supposing no body would venture to search farther, when they saw so terrible a Creature in so dismal a Place. He had stuff’d the Legs, Feet and Head of the Beast; so that placing himself in the Belly of it, it appear’d alive, especially in so dark a Place. The two la