In our way, a drunken Dutchman, who was a passenger too,
fell overboard; when he was sinking, I reached through the water
to his shock pate, and drew him up, so that we got him in again.
His ducking sobered him a little, and he went to sleep, taking first
out of his pocket a book, which he desir'd I would dry for him.
It proved to be my old favorite author, Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress,
in Dutch, finely printed on good paper, with copper cuts, a dress better
than I had ever seen it wear in its own language. I have since found
that it has been translated into most of the languages of Europe,
and suppose it has been more generally read than any other book,
except perhaps the Bible. Honest John was the first that I know
of who mix'd narration and dialogue; a method of writing very engaging
to the reader, who in the most interesting parts finds himself,
as it were, brought into the company and present at the discourse.
De Foe in his Cruso, his Moll Flanders, Religious Courtship,
Family Instructor, and other pieces, has imitated it with success;
and Richardson has done the same, in his Pamela, etc.
When we drew near the island, we found it was at a place where there
could be no landing, there being a great surff on the stony beach.
So we dropt anchor, and swung round towards the shore. Some people
came down to the water edge and hallow'd to us, as we did to them;
but the wind was so high, and the surff so loud, that we could
not hear so as to understand each other.
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