Friday learned to speak quickly. He was very pleased when he understood me or could make me understand him. It was good to talk to him. Now my life was easy. I took Friday out with me to shoot a goat. When I fired my gun, Friday trembled and tore open his jacket to see if he was wounded. He knelt on the ground and said many things I did not understand. I think he was begging me not to kill him.
I took him by the hand and laughed at him, then pointed to the goat I had shot. He was amazed. I believe that, if I had let him. he would have worshipped me and my gun. For days afterwards he would not touch the gun, but he often spoke to it, begging it not to kill him.
That night I roasted some meat and gave it to Friday. He enjoyed it so much that he told me he would never again eat man’s flesh. I was very glad to hear that.
The next day I taught Friday how to make bread. After a little time, he was able to do these things as well as I could do them myself. This was the best year of my life on the island. Now I had someone to talk to, and he was a pleasant fellow. He was honest and simple. I began really to love him, and I believed he loved me more than he had ever loved anything before.
One day I talked to Friday about his nation. I asked him what his nation did with the prisoners they took in battle.
‘Do they carry them away and eat them, as these did?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ said Friday. ‘My nation eat men too.’
‘Do they ever carry prisoners to this island?’
‘Have you been here with them, Friday?’
‘Yes. I have been here.’ He pointed to the western side of the island.
So Friday had been one of the cannibals who used to come to the other side of the island. He told me that one time they had eaten twenty men, two women and a child.
Friday told me many things about the people of his nation and the nations nearby. Then he told me that at a great distance from his nation there lived white men like me, and that they had killed many people. I understood that these were Spaniards, whose cruelty was well-known.
I asked him if he thought I could go from this island to the place where the other white men lived. He said I could, but I would need a large boat. I began to hope that I could escape from the island, with Friday’s help.
I taught Friday all I could about religion. One time I asked him who made him. He did not understand me at all. He thought I had asked who his father was. Then I asked him who made the sea, the earth, the hills, and the woods. He told me Benamuckee made them. Benamuckee was very old, much older than the sea or the land, Friday said.
‘If this old person has made all things,’ said I, ‘why do all things not worship him?’
Friday looked very serious and said, ‘All things say O to him’.
I asked what happened to the people who died in his country.
He said they went to Benamuckee. Then I asked whether those they ate went to Benamuckee too, and he said yes.
I then began to teach him about the true God. I told him that the great Creator of all things lived up there (pointing towards heaven). I said He was omnipotent. He could give everything to us and take everything away from us. Friday listened very attentively. He liked the idea that Jesus Christ was sent to save us and that God could hear our prayers. He said that if God could hear us in heaven, He must be a greater god than Benamuckee. Benamuckee only heard when people went to the mountains to speak to him, Friday said. He told me that only the old men were allowed to go to speak to Benamuckee. ‘Well,’ I thought, ‘there are cunning priests even among the savages.’
I told Friday that the old men were not telling the truth when they said they had spoken to Benamuckee. I said perhaps they had spoken to the devil. I then had to explain to Friday who the devil was.
Some days later, I spoke to Friday about God again.
Friday said, ‘I God is so strong, why does He not destroy the devil?’
I was surprised at this question. I was a very old man, but I was a very young teacher of religion. I asked him to repeat what he had said. This gave me the time to think of an answer.
‘God will punish the devil in the end’ said I.
That did not satisfy Friday. ‘But why does God not kill him now? Why did God not kill him long ago?’
I said, ‘Why does God not kill you and I when we are wicked? He gives us time to repent and be forgiven.’
Friday thought about this. Then he said, ‘Well, well. I understand. You, I, and the devil are all wicked, but God lets us all live so that we can repent and be forgiven.’
Here I was in difficulty again, and I thought how true it was that reason alone cannot lead us to salvation. I told Friday that I needed something and sent him to get it. This gave me time alone to pray to God that he would help me to teach Friday.
As a teacher, I had more sincerity than knowledge. In trying to teach him, I taught myself many things that I did not know before and many I did not really understand. I wanted to understand more than ever before. I do not know whether I helped Friday, but I am sure that Friday helped me. I was more contented than before, and I enjoyed my home very much. I thanked God for allowing me to save the life and perhaps the soul of this poor savage. When I thought about these things I felt a secret joy, and I thanked God for bringing me to the island.