And if the
Centurion was lost, or should be incapable of returning, there appeared
in either case no possibility of their ever getting off the island, for
they were at least six hundred leagues from Macao, which was their
nearest port; and they were masters of no other vessel than the small
Spanish bark, of about fifteen tons, which they seized at their first
arrival, and which would not even hold a fourth part of their number. And
the chance of their being taken off the island by the casual arrival of
any other ship was altogether desperate, as perhaps no European ship had
ever anchored here before, and it were madness to expect that like
incidents should send another here in a hundred ages to come; so that
their desponding thoughts could only suggest to them the melancholy
prospect of spending the remainder of their days on this island, and
bidding adieu forever to their country, their friends, their families,
and all their domestic endearments.
A MELANCHOLY PROSPECT.
Nor was this the worst they had to fear: for they had reason to expect
that the Governor of Guam, when he should be informed of their situation,
might send a force sufficient to overpower them and to remove them to
that island; and then the most favourable treatment they could hope for
would be to be detained prisoners for life; since, from the known policy
and cruelty of the Spaniards in their distant settlements, it was rather
to be expected that the Governor, if he once had them in his power, would
make their want of commissions (all of them being on board the Centurion)
a pretext for treating them as pirates, and for depriving them of their
lives with infamy.
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